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The hot dog snow cone
snoopy's probably gonna get pretty pissed
Clown squad leader Dannis Ree reporting in, sweaty as balls. Chicago’s been experiencing some on-and-off searingly hot weather, and so have other parts of the country, from what I’m reading. You know the kind. It looks pretty outside, then you step out for a second, and suddenly you realize your buttcheeks have instantly fused together. Get ready for some chafing.
When it gets this hot outside, food writers (including myself), obsess over posting content that talks about cooling you off, when we all really know that you can open up a fire hydrant and stand in front of it or something. This is really just a desperate plea to stay seasonally relevant for five more minutes. We should really just take it easy since the darkness cheerfully comes for us all someday, and the world does not need more whimsical twists on boozy milkshakes.
Anyway, this week’s free edition of the newsletter is a clever way to stay cool when it’s hot outside, and it’s by using a classic childhood toy: The Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine!!!
Davida and I picked up this Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine from Target.
I know many of you reading this have either had one, or had an experience with one at a friend’s house when you were growing up. We didn’t own one, but from I’ve gathered, these things were total pieces of shit and never actually worked. All you’re supposed to do is put an ice block in it, turn the crank (which is attached to Snoopy’s head), and it shits out shaved ice bits into a little cup for you.
I thought these things had gone extinct, but I guess big companies are still betting on this retro-is-cool thing. Why they had to revive a toy that nobody liked to begin with will remain a mystery until the end of time. Bring back lawn darts, you cowards!
I thought it would be interesting to see what happens when you try and grind frozen hot dogs through this thing, so I chopped up a bunch, put them in a bag, and shoved them in the freezer.
Yes, I’m writing about hot dogs again (for the eighth time on the newsletter), and no, they’ll never stop being funny to me.
A novel way to chill out when it’s hot outside is by freezing an entire hot dog and shoving it into your orifice of choice. This will cool you off from the inside out, and you’ll become a legend in the emergency room, just like I did that one time.
There was a surprising amount of crap in the Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine box when I busted it out.
I did not know this thing would have that much junk in it. Plastic cups, paper cups, squeeze bottles, a tiny shovel, just a bunch of miscellaneous shit. Snoopy, come on, man.
After I set the Sno-Cone machine up I let the gang examine it.
I caught Mr. Bee trying to move all of the gang’s belongings into it so they could squat, so I evicted them all immediately. They’re taking me to court next month. According to them, I’m an “unethical” landlord or some bullshit.
Basically, the Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine is one big waste of plastic, since the only thing that does any actual work is built into the top of the device.
You’re just looking at a razor inside a little cup, which shaves down a block of ice as you turn it with the Snoopy crank. It’s pretty much just like a pencil sharpener. For frozen hot dogs.
I excitedly jammed some hot dog chunks into the machine and started twisting the crank, like you’re supposed to do with ice.
But nothing productive seemed to be happening. No hot dog bits were coming out of its exit hole, and the handle just seemed like it was spinning in place. The room began to fill up with an odor I immediately recognized: bullshit.
For whatever reason the hot dogs just wouldn’t grind, though weird shreds of them ended up in the base of the handle, which I kept as souvenirs of my struggle.
I asked Davida for some help, and she sauntered into the kitchen, saying, “I was wondering when you were gonna ask!”
She held the machine down as I mustered up some extra muscle force from deep within my muscles. But alas, the crank just would not budge. Fuck this world!
I fingered the hot dogs to see how they were doing.
Stop laughing, guys, grow up. This is serious food writing. The hot dog chunks had pretty much fused into one solid cold cylinder, but it occurred to me that the grinder handle just couldn’t catch into them, which is why it was merely spinning in place and not giving me the iced hot dog bits I so sorely needed.
I angrily pulled out my Vitamix, which I just used a few days ago, and grudgingly ground up the hot dogs with its absurdly powerful motor.
Then just to spite Snoopy’s useless ass, I dug out the hot dog bits from the Vitamix with his little piece of shit shovel. I’m not bitter or anything.
To top off my frozen hot dog bits, I whipped out this really weird “Chicago Sauce” that I found at the grocery store.
The conceit is that it’s every condiment from a Chicago-style hot dog all chopped up and put in one bottle. We’re talkin’ mustard, pickles, tomatoes, onions, relish, sport peppers, and celery salt. In theory, that’s okay, but in practice, you get a bottled sauce that looks gross. It’s a chunky brownish yellow and it’s hard for me to say that I want anything that looks like that around my weiner.
Though my poor hot dog snow cone idea backfired on me because Snoopy sucks, at least I had a little snack thanks to my Vitamix.
A visually and conceptually unappealing snack, that is. I dug in anyway, because I’m a fool. When it comes down to it, ground up frozen hot dogs aren’t really that terrible, though I bet they’d be better if they were a more melt-in-your mouth texture. I wouldn’t know, thanks to some jagoff named Snoopy. And I’m still not sold on that weird hot dog sauce, unfortunately. Part of the joy of a Chicago dog is just how fresh everything tastes all at once; when you jar it into a single sauce, you can’t really taste anything other than sport peppers and mustard.
Did I come up with a refreshing take on a hot dog? Unfortunately, no. I guess we’ll all have to stick to freezing them whole and…you know the rest.
I’ll be on standby when you need to be picked up from the hospital.
Thanks for nothing, Snoopy. You are now my enemy. Don’t forget to share this post on the scourge known as social media, which only exists for you to share Food is Stupid, since it helps grow the newsletter:
And don’t forget to sign up for the paid version, because guess what? Later this week paid subscribers will get an extra edition, in which I will combine a Wisconsin classic with a Korean dessert to make something called “brat bingsu.”
Not only do paid subscribers get extra editions of the newsletter, you get full access to the archives at foodisstupid.substack.com. Considering that I’m zeroing in on three years of consistent gut-challenging content, you’ve got a lot to catch up on, all of it magnificent.
As always, I love you all, and I’ll greet some of you lucky few this coming Friday via the paid edition. Stay cool, clowns.