There was this place in the mall growing up called the Corn Dog Factory. Perhaps some of you from my neck of the woods remember it?!
Thinking back, my irrational love of corn dogs makes me question whether I am descended from carnies. Hmmm… Slightly disturbing thought, but moving on…
Battered, deep-fried meat on a stick, it is so many kinds of wrong, but I loved them.
An obligatory stop to my deep fried heaven had to be made on nearly every visit to the mall. I was even rather particular about the ketchup to mustard ratio. (3:1, BTW…same as a vinaigrette)
Standing in front of the counter, watching the hot dog get immersed in thick batter and then plunged into the hot oil…
The sweet smell of the cornbread batter turning a deep golden brown induced a Pavlovian kind of reaction.
My mouth started to salivate the second I smelled the batter hit the hot oil.
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