Corn Dogs — The Recipe That Reminded Me Joy Can Be Simple

One year since the blog began. Week 1 was March 28, 2016 — seven years ago. I was twenty-two. I was eating takeout in a Capitol Hill condo. I had never cooked a meal. I had never been to Korea. I had never heard the name Jisoo. I had not met James. I had not tasted doenjang jjigae. Karen's hands were steady. Kevin was still using. David was still at Boeing. I was Baby Girl #4719 with a new name and an old emptiness and no idea that the emptiness had a shape, and the shape was a kitchen, and the kitchen was waiting for me to find it.

Seven years later I am twenty-nine. I am married. I am the co-founder of a Korean meal kit company. I have been to Korea three times. I have a birth mother who calls me Dahee. I have a brother who is sober. I have parents who are aging. I have a therapist who changed my life. I have a kitchen with three onggi pots and a shelf of Korean cookbooks and a husband who makes beef noodle soup on my worst days. I am trying to have a baby. I am terrified. I am ready. I am both.

I did not celebrate the anniversary. I thought about it and decided against it. The blog is not a thing to celebrate — it is a thing to do. The cooking is the celebration. The life is the celebration. The fact that I am no longer the woman who ate scrambled eggs alone at 6:47 AM and felt the silence like a wound — that is the celebration. I do not need a party. I need another Tuesday.

Banchan Labs: Box Three ships April 10. Inventory at 1,200 boxes, all pre-sold. The waitlist for Box Four is already at 3,400. I am starting to think about whether this needs to become a regular subscription rather than a box-by-box model. James has started running the numbers. Grace said, "Subscription means commitment. Are you committed?" I said, "Grace. I built a fermentation station in my house." She laughed. She does not laugh often. When she laughs it feels like a prize.

This is also the week James and I started trying to conceive. I am not going to write the details of that, because some things are between two people and a closed door and the hope that biology will cooperate with intention. I will say this: we are hopeful. We are nervous. We are also, somehow, calm, in the way that you are calm when you have decided to jump and are mid-air and the water below looks cold but survivable.

Kevin called Sunday. We talked for an hour. He asked about Karen (stable, medicated, stubborn), about Banchan Labs (growing, terrifying, wonderful), about the baby plan (I told him; he was quiet for a long time and then said, "Steph, you're going to be an amazing mom." I cried. He said, "Don't cry." I said, "Too late." He said, "I want to be the fun uncle." I said, "You are already the fun uncle. You are the only uncle." He said, "Perfect. No competition.") He told me about Bridge City — he and Lisa are thinking about a second location. He sounds good. He sounds like himself, which is the best version of Kevin, which is the version the pills tried to take and didn't.

The recipe this week is the first meal I ever cooked — Karen's pot roast, seven years ago, alone in my condo, following her instructions over the phone. I have made it dozens of times since. It gets better every time, or maybe I get better every time, or maybe the getting-better is the same thing. Chuck roast. Vegetables. Broth. Time. Three hours in the oven. The smell fills the house. The house smells like 2016 and also like now. The pot roast is a bridge between the woman I was and the woman I am. I cross it every time I make it. I will keep crossing it.

I said I wasn’t going to celebrate the anniversary—and I meant it—but James looked at me on Tuesday night and said, “We’re not having a party. We’re having corn dogs,” and honestly, that felt exactly right. There is something about a corn dog—crispy, golden, unapologetically simple—that belongs to the version of joy that doesn’t need a reason or a speech. After a week of inventory counts, Kevin’s phone call, and the quiet enormity of what James and I have decided to try, I needed a meal that just asked me to eat it and be happy. This is that meal.

Corn Dogs

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

• 8 beef hot dogs
• 8 wooden skewers or popsicle sticks
• 1 cup yellow cornmeal
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/4 cup granulated sugar
• 1 tablespoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
• 1 large egg
• 1 cup buttermilk
• 2 tablespoons honey
• Vegetable oil, for frying (about 4 cups)
• Mustard and ketchup, for serving

Instructions

1. Prep the hot dogs. Pat the beef hot dogs completely dry with paper towels—this helps the batter adhere. Insert a wooden skewer lengthwise into each hot dog, leaving a few inches exposed as a handle. Set aside on a plate.
2. Make the batter. In a large bowl, whisk together the cornmeal, flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, and smoked paprika. In a separate small bowl, whisk together the egg, buttermilk, and honey. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir until just combined and smooth. The batter should be thick enough to coat the back of a spoon.
3. Heat the oil. Pour vegetable oil into a deep, heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven to a depth of about 3 to 4 inches. Heat over medium-high heat until the oil reaches 375°F on an instant-read thermometer. Line a baking sheet or plate with paper towels and set nearby.
4. Coat the hot dogs. Pour the batter into a tall glass or mason jar for easy dipping. One at a time, dip each skewered hot dog into the batter, turning to coat evenly, and let any excess drip off briefly before transferring to the oil.
5. Fry in batches. Carefully lower 2 to 3 battered hot dogs into the hot oil at a time—do not crowd the pot. Fry for 3 to 4 minutes, turning occasionally with tongs, until the batter is deep golden brown on all sides. Transfer to the paper-towel-lined plate to drain. Repeat with remaining corn dogs, allowing the oil to return to 375°F between batches.
6. Serve immediately. Serve hot with mustard, ketchup, or your favorite dipping sauces.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 320 | Protein: 11g | Fat: 16g | Carbs: 34g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 680mg