Fried Hostess Twinkie with Raspberry Sauce and Westmalle Tripel

Wait a minute. I thought I was supposed to be on a diet?

Well, my Aunt brought home a box of Twinkies, among other things, after coming home from the U.S. and I promised myself that I’d eat only one. I’d never tried Twinkies before, and have heard a lot of horrible yet salivating things about them, even before Zombieland came out. After getting introduced to Woody Harrelson’s character Tallahassee though, I just felt like I needed to find out for myself what this treat worth rampaging across a zombie wasteland for tasted like.

Of course, I had to up the ante by making a simple batter and frying the heck out of the Twinkie, top it with some raspberry sauce, and pair it with Westmalle Tripel. I tried Googling what beer to pair with a deep-fried Twinkie, and all the hits, including one from celebrated beer author Randy Mosher, suggested a barrel-aged Tripel. Unfortunately, we don’t have those here in the Philippines, so I decided to go Trappist.

I finally got the chance to try this out while tuned into the Chief Justice’s impeachment trial earlier. Since I’d rather keep this blog politics-free, I’ll just state that I felt like I needed a treat. The recipes online are all pretty much reiterations of the same basic one, the original of which being too much of a pain to trace. Thus, here’s the link to the first hit on Google.

The Twinkie came out crisp on the outside and gooey inside, with the creaminess highlighted by the Bonne Maman raspberry preserve that I heated and spooned over the whole thing. This was sinfully sweet, and didn’t taste like the bland, processed cheap cakes that we have here in the Philippines (Incidentally, I miss Whammos, which was a processed, cheap chocolate fudge cake, akin to the Twinkie, but is now gone forever. I think Big Bob’s also produced a Twinkie copycat flavor).

All that sweetness knocked the Westmalle Tripel out of the park. The usually fruity Tripel was reduced to a spicy, yeasty, dry afterthought. Not bad in the very least, but for an artisan (and I don’t use this word as lightly as Our Awful Grammar and other “foodie” [and I hate how that term devolved from being unassuming to pretentious] blogs) product, I’d rather let the Trappist ale take the spotlight. Randy Mosher was probably right in suggesting something barrel-aged, rather than a regular bottle-conditioned tripel, as it would stand up more to more cloying decadence. My first taste of Westmalle was underwhelming. Once I polished off the food and concentrated on tasting the beer, it didn’t improve by much. I still prefer Chimay and La Fin du Monde. Once again, however, I owe it to the good monks of Westmalle to try the quintessential tripel one more time, on its own, and under ideal conditions.

So much (literally) nested anger in this entry, despite the bliss that a Twinkie is supposed to bring. I think it’s because the circus is in town. Now I want to go all Tallahassee Zombieland and blow some mindless undead creatures’ brains out.

P.S.
On a friendlier note, thank you to everyone who gave me tips on where to get good raspberry jam. Bonne Maman’s was delicious. Even better on a simple slice of buttered toast than with a Twinkie.

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