An Open Letter to Mo Egger.

Dear Mo,

I don’t know jack about sports.

That’s not true. I know some stuff about baseball. Ask me what a suicide squeeze is, or the Mendoza line, or why the designated hitter is a very, very bad thing.  I can even debate player uniform pants, and why life was so much simpler when they just wore the short pants and not the goofy long ones.   Interleague play: I can talk about that one, too.  On a good day, I can even tell you about RISP.  I just have to get the acronyms straight.

What do I know about?  You guessed it.

I know you occasionally read this blog, so you might recall that The Boyfriend and I make a point to go to different ballparks and compare their food to Great American.  Generally, GABP fails miserably.  The New York Times talked about ballpark food, and I found that even on a trip this spring to watch the White Sox in Chicago, the “worst rated ballpark food in the nation” was actually better than the stuff at GABP (sorry, that review is pending).   We’ve eaten in the club seats. We’ve eaten in the diamond seats.  It’s generally overpriced and underwhelming.

The other night, as The Boyfriend and I sat imbibing with two of our friends, as we had all come to the conclusion that the only thing worth eating at GABP is Penn Station, but we weren’t in the mood, one of them piped up: “Do you read Mo Egger?  He posted TWICE about these things called Funnel Fries.  Have you tried them?”  He explained that these delicious sweet treats often sold out, and weren’t sold in enough places in the ballpark, and that if anyone in town should try them, it would be me.  A challenge?  I think so.  It was the 8th inning, and I figured the Reds had a fighting chance– so I made my way to find these potentially delicious morsels.

I didn’t have to go far.  I was sitting in 117, and right outside of 120, a stand carried Funnel Fries– and they hadn’t run out!  I waited patiently for them to be freshly fried up for me, and triumphantly returned to my seat.  Success!  The four of us sat down to try ’em.  The verdict?

How did I miss out on these last season? I attended enough games, but since we generally sit in the 400s, we weren’t near a vendor.  They’re darn tasty.  If they’re hot, they’re crispy on the outside and warm inside.  Even once they’ve cooled a bit, they’re good.  They’re manageable in size, and could easily be split by two (or hoarded by one. I wouldn’t judge.).  They’re covered in powdered sugar, so avoid wearing black while eating them, lest you want to look like you’ve been in Lucille Ball’s flour fight (or perhaps you need to go to rehab).  They can’t possibly be good for you (fried dough, folks), but they are delicious.  We all agreed: best thing at the ballpark (that isn’t beer).  And you’re right– this is not a dish for the elite only (like the $9 Penn Station cheesesteak with fries).  At $3, they’re a very delicious steal.  A $5 ticket and $3 4.50 funnel fries, you still have $2 out of that ten-spot for a bottle of water on the way out of the park. Okay. So you have 50c left. Thanks, Mo, for that correction.

So Mo, I’m on board.  I know the sports guys have all latched on, but do you have anyone on your side to approach the Funnel Fry Phenomenon from the food angle?  The food blogger and the sports blogger can raise their voices in harmony to advance the cause of Funnel Fries for everyone.  What do I have to do?  Who do I have to pressure?  I’m on it.  I will be the voice of fans everywhere who want something delicious at Great American Ball Park.  I propose a discussion over funnel fries and beer.  The funnel fries are on me.

Sincerely,

Julie, aka wine me, dine me.

P.S.– Everything I learned about baseball, I learned from The Boyfriend.  Credit where credit is due and all.

P.P.S.– I made sure to check the spelling of “Egger” beforehand.  Just so you know.



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