Nothing But Love :: golf blogger

Twinkies Revisited Out in the Country

On NPR, while driving down to DT's way too early Saturday morning, there was a segment on the 75th anniversary of the Hostess Twinkie, which was an attempt to correct some misperceptions and urban legends about the sugar-and-lard-filled yellow cakes. No need to repeat any of it. What I wanted to point you toward is an old site, which dispels many myths about Twinkies by strict and rigorous scientific testing.

While I was at DT's house burning trees and stuff, we went out to dinner at a rural steak and rib house. I could never find this place by myself. We drove for a long time way out somewhere on winding roads through Amish country. I'm sure that we passed Jimmy Hoffa's grave. We came upon an old house on the side of the road. I can't remember the name of the place. I don't know what road it is on. It is in Ohio somewhere between Indiana and Pennsylvania is all I can tell you.

And that is a good thing because this is a place from where strangers just might disappear. I wondered what would have happened if I ventured into the place alone. Even accompanied by DT and Lee, I got a lot of dagger-like stares from every table, about which Lee had warned me before entering. Two people at different parts of the route to our table in someone's old bedroom, asked DT a question in a dialect incomprensible to me. He told them I was an old friend, which seemed to satisfy them.

Though the sauce for the tender meaty ribs was rather ordinary, the dessert of coconut creme pie was superb and worth the trip. DT's wife, Lee, ordered Mounds pie, which was a coconut cream layer between two chocolate cream layers, all within a flaky pastry crust. The taste I had of that was pretty good. DT had the banana split pie, which disappeared shortly after being put down by our waitress. I didn't get a taste of that, but DT described it as "just" a banana cream pie with bananas, a chocolate layer, and pineapple on the whipped cream topping. And before you get all offended and upset, out in the country, they are still called waitresses, not servers.

So, if you chance upon this place on your travels, please hook up with a local before going into the door; otherwise, we probably won't see you again.

Posted by Bill at April 20, 2005 04:04 PM