Twix

The other night at Chip Shop in Park Slope with Kirk, James and Diana we’d stuffed ourselves silly with fried fish, fried potatoes, and fried beer (ok, the beer wasn’t fried). Then Kirk tried to kill us. “Who wants to share deep fried Twix bars? They’re awesome.” In all my years of adventurous eating, I’d never had a deep fried candy bar. So I said I was game. So was James and, eventually, Diana. Here’s what they brought out, photo by James:

First of all, kudos to Chip Shop on their thoughtful presentation (notice how they’re stacked and dusted with powdered sugar?) Second of all, look at Kirk’s beer: he had a Monty Python Holy Ale. I took a sip and it made me say Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni!

Anyway, after staring for a bit we finally lifted our forks and dove in. And OH MY LORD: you have no idea what you’re in for when it comes to a deep fried candy bar. It’s not just sick, sweet decadence: it’s much more than that. The chocolate and caramel MELT within the crispy batter so that it becomes almost unrecognizable in its goodness, like a whole new category of sweets you never knew existed. Words fail me now. All I can say, is if you’ve never had a deep fried candy bar you really should. I plan to have one every day until I die which, if I really have one every day, may happen sooner rather than later. You’re all invited to say “Ni” at my funeral.