Tuesday, January 27, 2015

A transplant falls in love

Krimpets rule.

A transplant falls in love

Freihofer’s was the dominant commercial bakery where I grew up.

I’ll never forget “The Freddie Freihofer Show” on local TV, or its theme song (Freddie Freihofer, we think you’re swell…).

So I knew nothing of TastyKake until I moved to Philadelphia.

It was the ‘70s, I was in my 20s, and I gulped all the local liquids – Ortlieb’s, Schmidt’s, even Burlington County’s own Boost.

I gnoshed the indigenous solid fare, too: Pork rolls, pretzels, cheesesteaks wit’ and wit’ out.

I remain, dare I say, underwhelmed.

Except for Butterscotch Krimpets.

This creamy (kreamy?) little gem wins a permanent place of honor in my non-health food hall of fame.

Unlike so many things, food-wise and otherwise, the Krimpet always satisfies.

The Krimpet is, quite simply, perfect.

Memo to TastyKake’s new owners: Do what you need to do with those Kandy Kakes, Juniors, and those honey things.

But please.

Don’t touch my Krimpets.

Kevin Riordan Inquirer Columnist
About this blog
Blinq is a news commentary blog featuring contributions from Inquirer Metro columnists Kevin Riordan and Daniel Rubin.

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