These were on sale at the store. How many "I bought something bad for me" stories start out that way? Most of them, I would wager. At any rate, I was lured into buying them by the combination of a low price and a cheerful wrapper on a soggy gray day.
One question which perennially reappears in conversation both online and off is, "What things do you only buy the name brand?" Some people assert that all name brands are the same as all store brand or generic versions. Other people will never buy anything but the name brand version, having become convinced (largely by marketing) that the generic version is never as good.
Most people fall into the middle, but have a short list of things they only buy name brand. For me, fruit pies are on that short list. (So are Tampax tampons and Always pads, not that you asked.) Any off-brand fruit pie is never as good as the genuine Hostess item. They are not as fresh, and they taste even more fake than the Hostess pies. Which, let's face it, is a pretty amazing accomplishment.
It takes a lot of chemicals to make a shelf-stable apple pie. Even though the pies don't last forever (if you check the wrapper, most of them expire within a month) they still have to last. Imagine the food engineering required to make the apple pie filling sit inside a wrapper of pie crust without saturating it. This is a process which is inevitable in the real world. If you make a pie from scratch (which is not difficult, I assure you) your crust will have gone soggy within a few short days.
How, then, does the Hostess Fruit Pie keep its structural integrity?
I don't know. Maybe it's better not to ask.
Fruit pies are the favored dessert of Bobby Hill from the late, lamented "King of the Hill." And Bobby Hill knows what he's talking about. These things are straight up delicious. Probably the most amazing feat of food science is the way that Hostess has crammed so many chemicals into a simple apple pie, without leaving behind a product that tastes chemical-y.
Don't get me wrong, you will not mistake this for a pie made from scratch. For one thing, it has a sugary outer coating which is unsettlingly like frosting. Who needs a frosting on a pie? That's just gilding the lily. For another thing, all of the apple chunks are perfect cubes, which is also a little unnerving. And finally, it does have a certain processed flavor which is difficult to pin down. It doesn't taste artificial, just… over-done.
I'm pretty sure Michael Pollan sheds a tear each time an American eats one of these things. Sure, you can make your own apple pie with apples, flour, butter, sugar, a pinch of salt, and a few tablespoons of spice. Sure, it seems like the downfall of our society is heralded by that fearsome ingredients list. Sure, 470 calories may seem like a lot for what the wrapper claims is a "snack."
But you know what? For a dollar, sometimes you just can't resist.
One question which perennially reappears in conversation both online and off is, "What things do you only buy the name brand?" Some people assert that all name brands are the same as all store brand or generic versions. Other people will never buy anything but the name brand version, having become convinced (largely by marketing) that the generic version is never as good.
Most people fall into the middle, but have a short list of things they only buy name brand. For me, fruit pies are on that short list. (So are Tampax tampons and Always pads, not that you asked.) Any off-brand fruit pie is never as good as the genuine Hostess item. They are not as fresh, and they taste even more fake than the Hostess pies. Which, let's face it, is a pretty amazing accomplishment.
It takes a lot of chemicals to make a shelf-stable apple pie. Even though the pies don't last forever (if you check the wrapper, most of them expire within a month) they still have to last. Imagine the food engineering required to make the apple pie filling sit inside a wrapper of pie crust without saturating it. This is a process which is inevitable in the real world. If you make a pie from scratch (which is not difficult, I assure you) your crust will have gone soggy within a few short days.
How, then, does the Hostess Fruit Pie keep its structural integrity?
I don't know. Maybe it's better not to ask.
Fruit pies are the favored dessert of Bobby Hill from the late, lamented "King of the Hill." And Bobby Hill knows what he's talking about. These things are straight up delicious. Probably the most amazing feat of food science is the way that Hostess has crammed so many chemicals into a simple apple pie, without leaving behind a product that tastes chemical-y.
Don't get me wrong, you will not mistake this for a pie made from scratch. For one thing, it has a sugary outer coating which is unsettlingly like frosting. Who needs a frosting on a pie? That's just gilding the lily. For another thing, all of the apple chunks are perfect cubes, which is also a little unnerving. And finally, it does have a certain processed flavor which is difficult to pin down. It doesn't taste artificial, just… over-done.
I'm pretty sure Michael Pollan sheds a tear each time an American eats one of these things. Sure, you can make your own apple pie with apples, flour, butter, sugar, a pinch of salt, and a few tablespoons of spice. Sure, it seems like the downfall of our society is heralded by that fearsome ingredients list. Sure, 470 calories may seem like a lot for what the wrapper claims is a "snack."
But you know what? For a dollar, sometimes you just can't resist.