In search of a deep fried Mars bar

[A true story]

The quest was on. Before I knew it I had gathered around me a disparate group of Brits and Yanks all seeking the Holy Grail of a deep fried Mars bar. But this was genteel Edinburgh - not Glasgow the home of the deep fried Mars and even deep fried Pizzas.

So leaving the pub and our songs behind we set off. It was about 11.30 on a hot June evening. We passed 3 chip shops none of which could fulfil our quest. My companions were beginning to get mean and restless and doubted the veracity of my story. I even doubted whether Edinburgh could reach these culinary heights (or was it depth?) of Glasgow. But the 4th chip shop did. It even offered a variety of deep fried produce. Indeed, it seemed willing to deep fry almost anything - including Snickers!

So I ordered one and the six of us watched as the Mars bar was unwrapped and dipped into the batter and then carefully lowered into the hot fat. A few minutes later it was done. The golden coloured batter was lovely and crisp to the taste and the Mars bar was all gooey and molten. We all in turn took a bite. Some reckoned it was little hot chocolate sauce and quite pleasant. I found it a bit sickly frankly.

I wouldn't have missed our quest for the world. But I wouldn't do it again!