Crucifixion Corn Dogs Are Real, and Just the Right Amount of Wrong
If seven-year-old Michael Procopio had a choice, this is what he’d serve after Easter Mass. Not blessed wafers that taste like sandals. Not bottomless, watered-down mimosas. No, if little Mikey P. called the shots, he’d know that Easter Sunday called for something better – something “delicious and filling” that “would still remind us of Christ’s suffering with each and every mouthful.” The answer would come easily – so easily, in fact, you’d think its inspiration was almost divine: Crucifixion Corn Dogs.
Citing the Catholic doctrines of Transubstantiation (the belief that the bread and wine become the actual body and blood of Christ) and fasting before the Eucharist as inspiration for the recipe, the Food for Thoughtless blogger mused that his Crucifixion Dogs would be “more substantial than a communion wafer, and more delicious, too,” but that “given the nature of hot dogs, you still won’t be certain from which part of the body they came.”
All it takes is a pair of wooden chopsticks, coffee stirrers to serve as crossbeams and a healthy amount of impiety to create your very own deep fried, mustard-drizzled model of Christ.
The most outstanding feature of the recipe, however, aside from Procopio’s mad mustard drawing skills, is his writing, which is made of equal parts deadpan reverence and unabashed snark. Par example, step four:
“4. Dip one crucifix into the batter, coating well. The batter should be firm and giving, but not run. If it is too dry, add a little milk. Too runny, add a little more flour. The batter is as forgiving as He is. Gently shake off any excess and lay directly into the pot of hot oil. Fry on one side for about 1 1/2 minutes. Using tongs, gently turn its other cheek and fry for the same amount of time. On the third minute, let it rise from the oil and rest on a shroud of paper towels to cool. Repeat until all crucifixes are battered and fried.”
And his serving suggestion:
“Serves 8. To serve multitudes, pray over this recipe’s ingredients for as long as needed if you are perfect and without sin. For everyone else, multiply the recipe by hand.”
For anyone who’d rather shy away from blasphemy or who’s looking for something a little more secular, though, Procopio offers this alternative: “If the idea of squirting a mustard Jesus onto your corn dog makes you uncomfortable, you can still stay in theme by creating a condiment version of The Penitent Thief. Or The Impenitent one, if that is more your style.”
Historically accurate (?) foodstuffs, FTW.
Check out the full recipe here.
H/T + PicThx Laughing Squid
