Deep Fried Love

This is going to sound terrible, but here goes anyway… I can’t hold it in. Even if they’re really, really bad for you, some traditions just have to be honored.

I know I know I know… this sounds like some sort of antiquated excuse for allowing all kinds of horrible practices to thrive over generations. Having written it myself, my mind immediately jumps to hazing at private schools, or forcing your child to follow in the family banking business even if they’re terrible at math.

Happily, what I’m really talking about here is only bad for you in the deliciously-fatty, sugar-filled way. Which—when honored sparingly—ain’t such a bad thing, as far as unwholesome traditions go.

Deep Fried Love.

When SisterMeghanne and I were kids, our parents used to take us to our favorite local Mexican restaurant, Mazatlan, for Sopapillas and hot cocoa.

 Sopapillas (“little pillows”) are basically flat, chip-like wedges of fried dough, drizzled with honey, sprinkled with cinnamon, ribboned with chocolate or strawberry (our family choice) and dolloped with whip cream. Oh, and the cherry, of course. Mmmmmmm. 

I haven’t had them in years, and even in childhood, this treat was usually reserved for Mother’s day, or a birthday, and most years after the interminably long Auburn Veteran’s Day parade, which was more often than not enjoyed in the pouring rain.

Well, the other day, I got some unexpected girl time with SisterMeghanne’s daughter, Banana. I picked her up from school, and we decided to head over to Mazatlan for a little afterschool snack.

I’m so glad the girl understands the meaning of family tradition.  And—like the broad-minded, occasionally sugar-pushing auntie I am— I allowed her to add her own spin: deep fried ice cream.

Banana loves Deep Fried Ice Cream

Banana took this shot: My Vanna presentation of a REAL tradition. Oh, and this is also my new haircut!

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