Croissants ala Cobb

Famed ball player and easily enraged bigot Ty Cobb said memorably of our National Pastime:

Baseball is a red-blooded sport for red-blooded men. It's no pink tea, and mollycoddles had better stay out. It's a struggle for supremacy, a survival of the fittest.

That quote has absolutely nothing to do with making croissants, but the idea of a man of such notoriously foul temperament as Cobb using a word like "mollycoddles" with a straight face is hilarious to me, and you'll need to have a sense of humor to make this recipe, because, like Cobb, it's a ferocious pain in the ass.

Maple Bacon Glazed Donuts

So this is awkward, but I'm not into the whole "throw some bacon on everything" scene*. Not exactly anyway.

Look, I'm a good person. I do a lot of volunteering (for blogs), I typically stab drifters only when provoked and I love bacon. My own dad, a fine citizen of the highest order, makes bacon everyday, so bacon as a food group has been deeply embedded in my brain/mouth/stomach for several decades.

But bacon just doesn't belong on everything. Get a hold of yourself, sit the fuck down and read the preceding sentence again if need be.

Corn(y) Dog(s)

So again, here I am -- a few weeks behind on my own blog, because I'm giving up all the new shit (which you can check out every Thursday at sidedish.dmagazine.com) to another blog. Whatever, get used to it...

The State Fair of Texas is coming up in 6 weeks. As such I've had Fletcher's Corny Dogs (whose web presence is astounding) on the mind of late. Other things too (ex: the other day I thought about Superman II, and then funny names for race horses for awhile), but mostly I've entertained thoughts of those batter dipped, deep fried, nitrate sweepings on a stick that appear exclusively in Dallas for 24 days a year, then, like the mythical fire bird*, burst into flames, only to be reborn from its own ashes sometime in the future (or so I assume).

I know what you're thinking: Every state has a fair, and they all sell corn dogs. This blog is stupid.

In a way, what you're thinking isn't wrong. Although in the way that has to do with reality, you're completely wrong/you're stupid, stupid.