Granderson does a pretty good job eating and describing these sausages, and I am intrigued by the corn dog with the sauce already inside the corn batter. I am skeptical, though, that a non-deep-fried corn dog could hold up to the high standards I have for corn dogs*.
What’s most disappointing about the video is that he doesn’t sample the Swirldog, which is advertised right in front of his face. It’s hard to make it out but it looks like the sign says, “A sausage with a twist that sends all others green with envy!”
That doesn’t even make sense, but it makes me want to eat it for sure. WHAT’S THE TWIST?
*- I wrote something about corn dogs in a Live Journal post in 2004 that I still think is kind of funny. For some reason I used to have a thing for purple Fruit Stripe gum. I don’t want to link to that site because rather profane, so I’ll just excerpt the important part here:
I had a corn dog today; I got it from a guy selling them on a street corner. Imagine that — the corn dog man. It seems like five years ago when I came into the city, it was strictly a hot dog/pretzel/knish thing. Now they’ve got everything on the street corner. It’s like, “Hey, I’m going down to the corner to pick up something from the Lobster guy, you want anything?” “Nah, I got food from the 16-Ounce Porterhouse Steak cart earlier.”
Anyway corn dogs are [expletive] awesome. I like how there’s an element of mystery to them. Like you can’t see the meat, so you really don’t know what’s in there ’til you bite it. And hot dogs are pretty sketchy as far as meat goes to begin with, so you’re really taking your chances biting into that corn dog. But it’s worth the risk. A good corn dog is about as rewarding a food as you’re going to find this side of purple Fruit Stripe gum.
I think it has something to do with the meat being on a stick. There’s something very primal about eating meat on a stick, something that harkens back to medievil days when knights would come galloping into the castle only to be rewarded with huge hunks of meat on sticks. I think this might explain my affinity for shish kebab as well. I hate veggie kebab. Sissies.
Write this down: When I die, I don’t want to be buried or cremated or put into one of those Native American spiritual mounds, which I guess counts as buried except that you’re technically above ground. I want to be battered in corn meal and deep fried. Ram a stick up my [expletive], too, if need be. That way, everyone who comes to my wake will be forced to make the same decision I made today before biting into my corn dog. “He looks delicious… shall I bite him?”
Yes, eat of me what you want, I’m a delicious corn-dog cadaver.
Tedquarters 