I Am The God Of Sandwiches
NOTE: Before you begin reading this post, you might want to consider duct taping a couple of pillows or couch cushions to your head. Or, at the very least, you should lay a tarp over anything that you don't want ruined by flying bits of blood and brain. Why all the precautions? Well, I'm not going to lie you, kids... you're about to have your mind blown clean out of your skull by a laser-pure blast of patented C-dog awesome. Consider yourself warned; nothing will ever be the same.
Last night, I took over dinner-making duties, as Girlfriend had had a rough day and was desperately in need of a grilled cheese fix. In addition to the sandwiches (as well as some tomato soup), it was determined that the evening desperately called for a few fried-up Nathan's hot dogs. As I prepared this feast, I sensed something in the air; a whiff of approching genius, mixed liberally with the scent of cooking meat. I wasn't aware of it then, but destiny was coming for me, ready to take my hand and lead me out onto the floor for an elaborate tango of magnificent intelligence.
I plated up the grilled cheese sandwiches and the bunless hot dogs, I grabbed the condiments, and I headed to the bedroom where we were to watch Jeopardy while getting our respective eats on.
You never know when a "Eureka" moment is going to strike. It sneaks up on you, a sexy ninja wearing clothes made of money, and when it grabs ahold of you... well, you better hope that you're up to the challenge of battle. Because defeating the Idea Ninja is the only true path to immortality . Or... something... anyway, yes, like Edison with his light bulbs, or Salk with his polio vaccine, or Boyardee with his line of canned pastas, last night, I too was suddenly blasted in the face with both barrels of the concept-that-will-change-the-world shotgun.
I surveyed our dinner. A grilled cheese sandwich... mustard... a fried hot dog... there's something here, there's something going on... grilledcheesesandwich....mustard...friedhotdog... yes... together... all of them together!
And then... then...
The Grilled Cheese Hot Dog Was Born!!!
Let me walk you through it...
1. Your basic fried hot dog. The solid center of greasy, fatty goodness and hope.
2. A liberal squirt of mustard; the glue which holds us together.
3. The grilled cheese sandwich, topped with mustard and wrapped around the hot dog in an imitation of a traditional bun.
4. Heart-Healthy Harry, the American Heart Association's mascot, screaming in pain as he watches his life crumble before his eyes.
Oh, my friends... my beautiful friends... it was glorious. A taste explosion on par with the testing of an atom bomb. Cheesy, salty, tangy, meaty... everything melded together in an orgy of deliciousness that was at once both raunchy and ethereal. It brought tears to my eyes and a palpitation to my circulatory system.
And now I pass this idea on to you. Take it, use it well, but treat it with respect. If you mishandle the Grilled Cheese Hot Dog, it will not hesitate to maim and kill all that you hold dear. It cannot be tamed, this sandwich... it can only be consumed. No, no... don't thank me. I'm but a prophet, preaching the good word. Your satisfaction upon eating and enjoy the Grilled Cheese Hot Dog will be reward enough for the likes of me. Well, that and having my name written down in the annals of history as The God of Sandwiches. That will be nice too.
Last night, I took over dinner-making duties, as Girlfriend had had a rough day and was desperately in need of a grilled cheese fix. In addition to the sandwiches (as well as some tomato soup), it was determined that the evening desperately called for a few fried-up Nathan's hot dogs. As I prepared this feast, I sensed something in the air; a whiff of approching genius, mixed liberally with the scent of cooking meat. I wasn't aware of it then, but destiny was coming for me, ready to take my hand and lead me out onto the floor for an elaborate tango of magnificent intelligence.
I plated up the grilled cheese sandwiches and the bunless hot dogs, I grabbed the condiments, and I headed to the bedroom where we were to watch Jeopardy while getting our respective eats on.
You never know when a "Eureka" moment is going to strike. It sneaks up on you, a sexy ninja wearing clothes made of money, and when it grabs ahold of you... well, you better hope that you're up to the challenge of battle. Because defeating the Idea Ninja is the only true path to immortality . Or... something... anyway, yes, like Edison with his light bulbs, or Salk with his polio vaccine, or Boyardee with his line of canned pastas, last night, I too was suddenly blasted in the face with both barrels of the concept-that-will-change-the-world shotgun.
I surveyed our dinner. A grilled cheese sandwich... mustard... a fried hot dog... there's something here, there's something going on... grilledcheesesandwich....mustard...friedhotdog... yes... together... all of them together!
And then... then...
The Grilled Cheese Hot Dog Was Born!!!
Let me walk you through it...
1. Your basic fried hot dog. The solid center of greasy, fatty goodness and hope.
2. A liberal squirt of mustard; the glue which holds us together.
3. The grilled cheese sandwich, topped with mustard and wrapped around the hot dog in an imitation of a traditional bun.
4. Heart-Healthy Harry, the American Heart Association's mascot, screaming in pain as he watches his life crumble before his eyes.
Oh, my friends... my beautiful friends... it was glorious. A taste explosion on par with the testing of an atom bomb. Cheesy, salty, tangy, meaty... everything melded together in an orgy of deliciousness that was at once both raunchy and ethereal. It brought tears to my eyes and a palpitation to my circulatory system.
And now I pass this idea on to you. Take it, use it well, but treat it with respect. If you mishandle the Grilled Cheese Hot Dog, it will not hesitate to maim and kill all that you hold dear. It cannot be tamed, this sandwich... it can only be consumed. No, no... don't thank me. I'm but a prophet, preaching the good word. Your satisfaction upon eating and enjoy the Grilled Cheese Hot Dog will be reward enough for the likes of me. Well, that and having my name written down in the annals of history as The God of Sandwiches. That will be nice too.
posted by Clinton at 8:38 AM
14 Comments:
I think my drool just froze up my laptop. You, dear sir, are a prophet sent to rescue us mere mortals from the drudgery of sandwichdom. Just a thought though. Could this glorious concoction be improved any if it were wrapped in bacon? Or may that spin the earth off its axis because of its tasty awesomeness?
It's extremely hard to comment when my brain is in pieces all around me.
Harry... That seems like Icarus flying too close to the sun. Then again, there isn't a meal out there that *can't* be improved by bacon. But what then? After the bacon, I'd have no other recourse but to dip it in chocolate. Then frosting. Then garlic. Then the world blows up.
Brooklyn... I was afraid that might happen. But that's the risk you take when you're bringing the message to the people.
I take it you've heard of "The Luther?"
Because this sounds good enough to require it's own R&B singer-inspired name.
In other words -- Well played, sir.
I've heard of "The Luther," but I've never actually had one. One of these days, though... one of these days. I guess you could say that it's my white whale. Which, ironically, is what my Girlfriend will be forced to start calling me after I begin eating Luthers with regularity.
This is like something they would invent down here in the South. Only they'd prob also add cut-up, hard-boiled eggs. You are a credit to your home region, sir.
Would it be wrong to substitute a Tofu Pup? Because it sounds super delic but not enough to make me a non-vegetarian.
Colleen... I certainly do try. I'm pretty sure the Grilled Cheese Hot Dog will eventually earn me a spot in the Texas Hall of Fame. I hope they put me next to Rip Torn!!!
Dutchess... Of course. We're all about inclusion here at ZFS!. If you gotta go tofu to taste the wonder and magic of the GCHD, then so be it. To paraphrase Justin Guarini, I don't care how you get there... just get there. As it were.
HOLY FUCK my mind is blown. I know what hubby and I are having for dinner tonight. Now, to get my hands on some Nathan's Hot Dogs.... I had one at the last Blues game I went to and it was delish, but I don't know if they sell them in stores here in St. Lou. I might have to substitute a BallPark Frank - would that be sacrilege??
All varieties of hot dogs are acceptable in the GCHD. Weird, though, that they sell Nathan's at hocky games, but not in the stores. Just what's going on over there in St. Louis, hmmm....?
I have no idea! They didn't have Nathan's at our sporting venues here until very recently, like within the last year or two. The dog I had lived up to its reputation though, definitely. :)
What...No grass jelly?
I shall one up you, sir, in your quest.
You need to find a cheese called Red Dragon: Cheddar with mustard seed and ale. I found it in my local grocery, or you can get it from here.
Substitute THAT for your regular cheese and I promise you will find no equal.
(I first discovered the marvelous pairing when I melted Red Dragon over pigs in a blanket; I think the mustard/cheese/hot dog pairing must be in the collective unconscious.)
Greg... Ew, dude. Ew.
iieee... You're welcome!
Azucar... Good god, that sounds amazing. I'm so all over that cheese; thanks for the tip! I'd also recommend trying to track down a quality horseradish cheese. If you like horseradish, of course.
Post a Comment
<< Home