DIET WATER: Twinkies - not the best theme for cookbook

What do a cookbook, my high-school nickname and the dumbest idea in the world all have in common?

If you answered "The Twinkies Cookbook: An Inventive and Unexpected Recipe Collection" then you either have magical psychic powers that defy the wildest inclinations of mortal man ... well, either that or you just knew me in high school.

As a marketing ploy for its 75th Anniversary, Hostess asked Twinkie-lovers across the country to send in their favorite recipes involving Twinkies as the main ingredient. According to the promotional material, hundreds upon hundreds of recipes began pouring in. Some were bazaar, some were shockingly delicious, but make no mistake: all of them were sent in hand-written by John Goodman.

Now, let's be honest. There are a large number of food items that - on the basis of various culinary limitations including both taste and texture - should never be spotlighted as the main ingredient in a human diet. Among them are liverwurst, asparagus, and any substance contained in a package bearing the name "Oscar Mayer."

If there were, however, an official list of "Items Not to be Made Into the Foundation for a Cookbook" the Twinkie would be second from the top: that's one above "Tofu" and one below "Dog Droppings."

This is not to say I have anything personal against the Twinkie. I'm not even trying to say I don't like them.

Okay, I don't like them. So what? So I would rather opt for the Zinger, the Cup-Cake, or even the Ho-Ho over the Twinkie. Can you blame me? They all took the next step forward in the evolutionary cycle of junk-food: it's called putting the frosting on top as well as in the middle. The Twinkie didn't embrace change, and, accordingly, it lost my allegiance.

But that's not to say I don't respect the Twinkie. I may not like it, but, dammit, I respect it. The Twinkie is the godfather of the after-school snack. None of the cream-filled-cake delights that we have all come to know, love and consume without regard when we need to feel a sense of control in this crazy, mixed-up world, would have ever come into existence if it weren't for the Twinkie.

No more Zebra Cakes. No more Sno-Balls. No more Swiss-Rolls - and who knows where we'd be without Swiss Rolls? They're pretty much the only reason half of us showed up for ninth grade.

But does any of this really merit a Twinkie cookbook? Probably not.

I'm not intending to get on a health trip here. It's your body; it's your choice. If you want to throw a Twinkie inside of it, knock yourself out. But don't get me wrong. It's one thing to indulge, but it's quite another to buy a book designed to help you figure out more creative ways to sneak extra Twinkies into your system.

"You know, if you cut the Twinkie lengthwise and use it as a bun for a hot dog, it isn't technically dessert. So feel free to free to have a Twinkie when you're all done."

Among other recipes included - and this much of the column is true - are Twinkie burritos, Twinkie lasagna and Twinkie sushi. In other words, if you're planning on buying this book, you'd better be a hard-core Twinkie-lover ... or at least just ready to have something sink to the bottom of your stomach and rattle your large intestine like a kid throwing a bowling ball down an alley with the gutter-gates down.

And I suppose that there's little left for the rest of us to do but continue patiently awaiting the 75th Anniversary of the Swiss Roll.


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