It’s almost 4/20, baby—time to fire up, zone out, and absolutely obliterate your dignity with food so over-the-top it feels illegal.
To properly celebrate the High Holy Day of the stoner calendar, I headed out into the Tulsa wilds to track down the most unhinged, munchie-busting, “bro, is this even food?” eats in town.
This became a full-on munchie pilgrimage—a sacred quest for flavor chaos. I discovered food built for kings, cryptids, and people who “accidentally” ate 60mg. So, whether you're rolling one, smoking one, or some sober hedonist with a freaky palate, your high holiday menu is right here. Enjoy the journey through Tulsa’s most stoner-coded bites.
In no particular fuckin’ order:
Magnonada at La Michoacana Plus
11360 E 31st St, Unit A, Tulsa
La Michoacana Plus is like if Lisa Frank took a dab, exploded out of your Trapper Keeper™, and reincarnated as a psychedelic ice cream fever dream. Calling it an “ice cream shop” is straight-up disrespectful. It’s a glitzy, tropical acid trip moonlighting as a fruity, frozen oasis built for the blissed-out and sugar-zooted sweet tooth.
I walked into this carnival ride personified and found wild masterpieces of cold chaos: giant milkshakes that defy gravity, rainbow paletas like edible mood rings, and colorful troughs of icy aguas frescas that could KO even the worst cotton mouth.
The magnonada is like someone poured a lava lamp into a cup and said, “Go ahead, queen, vibe with this.” Your choice of fruity slush—mango, lime, pineapple, strawberry—is swirled with sticky chamoy (a sweet-spicy witchcraft made from pickled fruit and chili; just trust me) tossed with syrupy chunks of fruit, then rimmed with tajin and stabbed with a chamoy-slathered straw. It’s a full-on flavor trip: sweet, sour, spicy, icy, gooey, juicy—hittin’ my dopamine buttons like a supersonic pinball machine.
Baskin-Robbins could never.
The Okie Challenge at Isla’s
404 E Archer St, Tulsa
The second-best kind of ‘fried’ is ‘chicken fried’; if you’re reading this, you know the best kind. If you’re into both, congratulations: you’re ready to take on Isla’s “Okie Challenge.”
Isla’s Restaurant in downtown Tulsa throws down the gauntlet like your Mamaw and Guy Fieri had a baby and dared you to disrespect it. You’ve got 46 minutes to demolish an Okie feast so massive, it should come with a waiver and a slow-motion montage. As far as I know, there’s no rule against performance-enhancing substances, so feel free to pregame and go for the (Acapulco) gold.
Challengers face off against a double-dose of chicken fried steak drowned in sausage gravy, a pile of cheese grits smothered in BBQ pulled pork, fluffy buttermilk biscuits with strawberry jam and honey butter, plus cornbread muffins, squash casserole, fried okra, black-eyed-pea-and-corn succotash, and just when you think it’s over—lol—enjoy a whole damn slice of pecan pie to tuck you into the grave you just dug with your fork.
If you finish it all, biscuit drunk, glistening in gravy sweat, you won’t just win; you'll become a legend. And hey, if you lose, you're only 67 bucks lighter, with leftovers for days.
Nachos at Misfit Kitchen
111 N Main St, Tulsa
Trashcan nachos are what happens when God gets the munchies. The creators at Misfit Kitchen in downtown Tulsa take this big-ass aluminum can—like the kind doomsday preppers use—and they build a snack tower: chips, meat, cheese, sauce, repeat. It’s like they're stacking edible Jenga blocks of pure, greasy euphoria.
From where I sat, I could see the can glistening on the server’s tray as they approached, and prepared myself for the money shot: when they tipped that bad boy over and unleashed a sloppy, melty avalanche of flavor straight onto my plate like molten gold . This dish doesn’t 'serve' people—it claims them.
I left covered in cheese, full of joy, and questioning my life choices.
Nachos at Nicky’s Smokehouse
1742 E 6th St, Tulsa
For all its flair, Misfit’s flavors are pretty mellow, so if you’re a freak like me who likes their nachos with a little more heat—both flavor-wise and existentially—slide down the road to Nicky’s Smokehouse next to Marshall Brewery.
The smoked-out nachos are stacked with a choice of BBQ’d meat magic, smoky queso, pickled onions, and candied jalapeños. Sweet, salty, smoky, and spicy, it hits every corner of the pothead pleasure centers.
Taylor Made Turkey Leg at Taylor Made Turkey Legs
3112 N Peoria Ave, Tulsa
The Taylor Made Turkey Leg is straight medieval stoner royalty. Think giant-ass, Renaissance Faire-style smoked turkey legs—but supercharged with soul, smoke, and stoner logic. These bad boys are so massive I needed two hands and a prayer to lift one.
But Taylor Made doesn't stop at “giant dinosaur drumstick.” Nah, they said, “let’s get unhinged.” This medieval meat candy can be smothered in creamy mac and cheese, Cajun shrimp alfredo, or gumbo too rich to pay taxes. If, like me, you couldn’t possibly choose just one, get half mac, half alfredo, because you really can have it all.
Taylor’s also got all the soul food hitters: collard greens, yams, cornbread, and homemade desserts that'll make your grandma cry.
Donuts at Super Secret Donuts
1001 S Main St, Tulsa
Super Secret Donuts is the not-so-secret donut plug inside Foolish Things that’s been hotboxing the whole damn city with sugar clouds and deep-fried dreams. They’re not just throwing cereal and candy on fried dough. They’re evolved. They’re bougie, they’re decadent, they’re borderline erotic. Like, I definitely need a nap and a cigarette after one (or three).
The Maple Financier has full-on autumn daddy energy: I tasted a whisper of almond, a swipe of mascarpone then—boom—fried sage for an earthy, herbaceous bite. It was like leisurely smoking a blunt in a luxury cabin.
The Orange Cream with candied orange and marmalade dripping like edible sunshine tasted like someone zested a Creamsicle straight into my mouth.
These aren’t just donuts, my guy. They’re experiences. They’re sugar-coated benedictions for the stoned, the sad, the sweet-toothed, and the spiritually dehydrated.
Korean Corndogs at OH-K Dog in the Mall
7021 S Memorial Dr Ste 258, Tulsa
Baked, bored, and wandering Tulsa like a snack-seeking missile, I went to the only logical location to discover my deep-fried destiny: the Woodland Hills Mall food court. As a former mall rat, I can verify two things: one, the vibe is immaculate, and two, OH K-Dog is the freaking promised land.
This place is slinging Korean corn dogs straight from the munchie multiverse. They’re crunchy, cheesy, crispy-coated magic wands that taste like I conjured them during a 3 A.M. smoke sesh where I whispered, “Hey, what if we deep-fried happiness?”
I started with the Potato Mozzarella dog, a combination french fry and cheese stick in a grease-slicked dream. Want a little sweet with your savory? Hit it with the sugar dusting and a spicy mayo drizzle.
Sound chaotic? It is. We’re talking squid ink dogs, Hot Cheeto crusts, flavors so wild they make your taste buds feel like they’re riding shotgun in a Mario Kart shortcut. Gooey cheese pulls. Crunchy exteriors. Demented toppings. Sweet, salty, spicy, fried—all of it colliding in one bite like a gravity bong full of flavor fog.
Cheesesteak at Phat Philly’s
1305 S Peoria Ave, Tulsa
No Tulsa munchie tour is complete without paying respect to the OG of ganja-fueled gutbombs: Phat Philly’s. This place is straight-up stoner scripture, written in melted cheese and grilled meat, passed down from the hazy legends of late-night Tulsa folklore. Phat Philly’s didn’t start as some fancy storefront; it was a secret handshake, a whispered location, a post-bar rally point.
And that cheesesteak? It’s not food. It’s foreplay.
Thin-sliced beef grilled to juicy, sizzling perfection tangled up in a messy love affair with grilled onions and bell peppers. Then comes the cheese—hot, drippy, melt-in-your-mouth cheese that oozes like edible lava from the gods. The bread? Soft, warm, slightly toasted.
When I took that first bite, my chakras aligned, my regrets dissolved, and my high got higher. I felt a lot of things, but not shame—cheese on my fingers, sure, sauce on my face, maybe a little meat in my lap, you bet. That’s just part of the journey, man.
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Whatever you happen to do on 4/20, know that the stoner gods look down upon you smilingly. Whether you’re out and about or blazing it up in the comfort of your abode, I salute you. If you happen to enjoy any of these delights I’ve listed above, let me know which one, and if it lived up to your hedonist expectations. You freak.
