“Zeppole it’s happened to me, right in front of my face and I just cannot hiiiiide it. Zeppole! You came around. And the way I feel about you just can’t be wrong!” Yeah. That’s right. Little flashback to one of the greatest 90’s jams, Finally by CeCe Peniston. She pretty much sums up my love for these fried pastries. I might even, dare I say, like these more than doughnuts! Doughnuts are, well, doughy. You know they are bad for you. Zeppole are like little deep fried clouds, filled with flaky pockets of air. That doesn’t make sense. Who wants to eat air? There is an Italian tapas restaurant in Chicago that serves the best zeppole. Mike and I went there on a double date with our good friends. Since both couples had previously dined at this establishment, we knew how many zeppole came in one order. Eight little zeppole for four people. Doesn’t really sound like enough, right? Maybe had it not been a tapas restaurant. Maybe if we had all just finished off giant plates of noodles, then, eight, two per person, would suffice. But, no! We ordered two orders. To us, no big deal. To the server …

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