Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Back in a twink

It's been awhile since I last posted on this blog, but gripping news yesterday caused me to pry open my dusty laptop. Hostess, the maker of Wonder Bread, Twinkies, and other confections has filed for bankruptcy protection under Chapter 11.

This is disturbing news to anyone who spent their lunchbox years in the 1970s--a joyous time, when parents put pleasure before nutrition. I can still recall the excitement of unlatching a metal lunchbox and finding a treasure trove of Hostess goodies there for the unwrapping.

There were Twinkies, of course. You couldn't help but marvel in their golden, creamy sponginess. Two came in every pack, and they were so perfect and fresh it was easy to see how the "Twinkies never expire" rumor got started. (Regretably, according to that buzz blower Snopes, Twinkies do in fact have a shelflife.)

But this splendid treat paled in comparison to my favorite, Zingers. These were basically small Twinkies (three to a pack) with the most intriguing hardened yellow icing on top. The icing was indented with thin lines, as if someone had dragged a small rake through it.
My mom also packed Hostess Cup Cakes--chocolate cakes with chocolate icing and a squiggle of white icing on top. These were sometimes confused with Ding Dongs, which had chocolate icing but no squiggle. Ding Dongs are now wrapped in plastic, but back in the '70s, they were wrapped in aluminum foil. They looked like little hockey pucks. After you were eating, it was fun to wad up the foil into balls and pitch them into the trash.

Sno Balls...well, we all have our limits, even in the '70s. I never did try this coconut flaked mound of pink creaminess.

My kids know all too much about limits. They are growing up in the nutritionally obsessed '00s and '10s. This is, after all, the time when "Deceptively Delicious" became a bestseller because it taught parents how to sneak pureed spinach into brownies.

I wasn't even sure they had tried Twinkies before. When they got home from school yesterday, I asked them. My 12-year-old daughter tried them once, but didn't like them. My 16-year-old also tried them, but didn't remember if she liked them. Nonetheless, she mourned their absence in her lunch bag.

"You were the mean mom in elementary school," said my 16-year-old. "I got the boring snacks."

So, apparently there are parents still out there who send fun snacks to school--enough of them that Hostess has expressed confidence that the reorganization will work. The rest of us "mean moms" can watch this video and remember a time when parents weren't so uptight about food.