Return of a Classic: Banana Twinkies - Straight Up or on the Rocks

We've all been there. Made that ill-advised decision to go grocery shopping in the late afternoon, when lunch is wearing thin and dinner is depressingly distant. No snack handy to appease a growling stomach, you're desperate. You walk past freshly misted leafy greens and neatly stacked apples and pears; the produce could not look any better, yet nothing calls out to your taste buds.

Nothing, that is, until you round the corner, past the eggplant and cucumbers, and reach that glorious snack aisle. Here lies that forbidden feasting ground - where bachelors stock up on weekend goodies, where soccer moms find sleepover treats, and where you discretely search for fulfillment.

Nestled between the Oatmeal Cream Pies and Pecan Twirls is a familiar choice - the butt of jokes, the embodiment of all that is unhealthy: Twinkies. But these are Twinkies with a twist, you discover - Banana Twinkies! Weren't they always filled with that generic white cream? You picture a large factory, little men stirring large vats of white cream, and a line-up of trucks from Little Debbie to Hostess, all awaiting their pickups. But Banana Twinkies?

You remember hearing a news blurb about them a week ago. Banana was the original Twinkie cream filling; that all changed during a war-time banana shortage. Consequently, the filling flavor switched. Who knew that this little snack treat contained so much historical significance? You are led by feelings of nostalgia and genuine curiosity, surprised by the sort of emotional response that a trip to the grocery store can elicit. What manipulative power the brain has!

Before you know it, a box finds its way into your cart.

At the check-out line, you follow a slim girl unloading produce, yogurt, and beige boxes labeled "organic." You are ashamed and don't want her to see the Twinkies. I suppose I could put them back, you consider. But then you turn to find an elderly woman wheeling her cart behind you. Wouldn't want to hold her up, you rationalize.

The Twinkies finally make their way into your kitchen cupboard. What now?

No one else is home, so now is the opportune time to try one - to taste it critically.

You unwrap the cake - an elongated, personal-sized sponge cake. Its color is golden-rod; its scarred bottom bares evidence of the cake's journey along an overworked conveyor belt. White cream seeps through bottom cracks, but the top remains intact.

Your feelings are mixed. The cake's a little dry, the cream filling not as unabashedly banana as you had hoped. After finishing the cake, you question what possessed you to invest in an entire box. Ever the inventor, you then wonder what alternative uses might exist for the Twinkie. Your eyes drift over to the blender. How would Twinkies work in a banana smoothie? You muster the courage to test this idea, quietly slipping two cakes into your friend's Saturday afternoon smoothie. The Twinkie dissolves into the beverage.

"Why is the shake darker?" your friend asks.

You shrug and blame it on overly ripened bananas. He'll never know.

As it turns out, the shake is delicious. The addition of the Twinkies sweetens the beverage ever so slightly without turning the flavor artificial. The texture is thicker, more decadent, more like a milkshake. The next day you make another, and then another - that impulsive purchase will be put to good use.

Next time - if there is one - Twinkie tiramisu.