There are certain things that I have resigned myself that I will never be able to go out to a restaurant and order. Onion rings. Mozzarella sticks. Chicken fingers. Garlic bread.
I thought maybe I could bribe Aaron with a bottle of Makers 46 into coming up with some recipes, but I'm afraid to mention it for fear that we will end up with a top of the line deep fryer in our already-crowded kitchen next to the remote-controlled rice cooker or the voice-activated salad spinner.
Now, I don't have to. I found Grandma's.
Grandma's Grotto is a little New York-style Italian restaurant in Horsham, PA, located off of Easton Road. It's the kind of place I would normally drive right by, with a sigh and a wayward glance back in my rear-view mirror as I lament the myriad of fried foods and Italiany goodness that I will never enjoy again.
Or so I thought. Turns out, Grandma has gone gluten free.
They are doing their entire menu gf. And when I say entire, I mean entire. I walked in to find this:
If you are wondering if that is a giant display case entirely filled with shelves upon shelves of gluten free pastries, the answer is a resounding, sugar-fueled yes.
It's not just the pastries, though. Grandma's Grotto is committed to providing a full menu of items that have traditionally been off-limits. And we will start with the most delicious, melty, cheesy, deep fried food of all: mozzarella sticks.
That's right. I love mozzarella sticks. I'm not ashamed to admit it. I mean, who thinks about dredging creamy mozzarella cheese in eggwash and breadcrumbs and then deep frying the whole damn thing? Someone with my disregard for the health of their arteries. As a teenager, I lived on deep-fried fast food. Ciara and I spent hours after school at the local pizza place taking advantage of our not-yet-crapped-out metabolisms by enjoying oil soaked complex carbohydrates and greasy goodness. It's been nine years since I've had one though, and I was beginning to worry I wouldn't remember how delicious they were. Or worse: what if my taste buds had changed and would somehow not recognize the inherent greatness of fried cheese. But, when I took my first bite into the hot, crunchy crust and felt it cave in and melt with gooey, warm, stringy cheese, I knew that it was love. Again.