Mock Crown Roast

Rejoice, O readers! Your favorite pair of cooks is with me today in the Ostrich Kitchenette. Welcome Vera Maraschino, our Food and Fashion Editor, plus outdoor contributor Arnie Tackleman, who isn't technically on staff, but shows up all the same. Come join us in the kitchen for the whole conversation!

Publisher Tom George: Vera! Arnie! It's been ages! What have you two kids been up to?

Vera Maraschino: Cut the shit, Tom. Why are we here?

Tom: Do we need a reason? It's prime time for a trip to Flavorsville!

Vera: Nope, you're up to something. You've got that up-to-something smirk on your smug little mouth.

Arnie Tackleman: Yeah, and it's one of his specific smirks, but I can't put my finger on it.

Tom: Am I so transparent?

Vera: Like plastic wrap. What's your angle?

Tom: Okay, look, the thing is, we've had few stern letters from the government, same as all the newspapers. We're under pressure to convey a narrative that appeals to a certain nostalgic viewpoint.

Vera: You're caving to the fascists.

Tom: We're not caving. We're just acknowledging that some members of the public, as well as certain elected and unelected officials, are keen to recall a time when things were, you know, simpler.

Vera: And I'm in the kitchen where I belong.

Tom: It's not like that, Vera. Arnie's here, too. And me. We're all here for some good ol' American cooking, to recreate a mid-century classic.

Vera: Which is?

Tom: Betty Crocker's Mock Crown Roast Hot Dog Casserole.

Vera: And that's a real recipe from a real cookbook?

Tom: From a real cookbook I have right here. But we're making our own improved version.

Vera: An improved hotdog casserole?

Tom: Yeah.

Vera: So, um, we were on vacation when you called us—I told you that on the phone, right? Down in LA, on a beach blanket.

Arnie: Muscle Beach.

Vera: And we cut it short 'cause you said this was a real big deal, and you needed us up here ASAP. And the Real Big Deal is a hotdog casserole?

Tom: Correct.

Vera: Well, shit, better get my apron.

Arnie: Betty Crocker wasn't a real person, you know. The Washburn-Crosby Company made her up.

Vera: She's the Easter Bunny of cake mix.

Tom: I know. That's the power of a story. So, anyway, it's a simple recipe. Betty Crocker's mock crown roast is a mush of condiments and instant mashed potatoes, surrounded by a ring of hotdogs, but I've seen other recipes along the same lines. There's one from Weight Watchers that's basically hot coleslaw wrapped in frankfurters.

Vera: Good God.

Tom: Indeed. For ours, I thought we could make it a little taller, play up the crown shape, add some processed cheese for the gold on top. For jewels, I thought pimentos might fit the bill.

Vera: We're cooking this, right? The dogs aren't—raw?

Tom: Oh, totally. Just like a real crown roast.

Vera: And we're putting what in the instant potatoes?

Tom: Yellow mustard, mayonnaise, dried minced onions and sweet pickle relish.

Vera: Is there not one ingredient that vaguely remembers a farm?

Tom: Maybe the pickles, when they dream. So we'll make the potato salad ahead of time, mold it in two small cake pans, and put those in the fridge a few hours. Then we'll stack the cold potato pucks on a baking sheet, and they should hold their shape well enough. We'll slice the hotdogs lengthwise and press them against the potato tower, alternating heights to emphasize the crown. We can tie those in place with baking twine. Then sprinkle some grated cheese on top, a few pimentos, and bake it at 350F until the dogs are plump, maybe thirty minutes. And we'll finish it under the broiler, just for a second, to sizzle the cheese.

Vera: Okay, I'm afraid this will sound like a compliment, and that's not how I mean it, but your taste is usually—not this bad. You're up to something, and I'd swear it's...wait, a minute. Hold the phone. Is this a metaphor? Is this whole recipe a stupid metaphor?

Tom: I can't imagine what you mean.

Arnie: I told you I knew that face! It's his metaphor face. Dammit, Vera, you're right.

Tom: Okay look, I'm not saying it is a metaphor. It's just an old recipe. But if I had some thoughts about a wanna-be king who's herding us into a grotesque misremembering of Norman Rockwell's America, which was a facade in the first place, built on a tower of self-deceptions from all the way back to Plymouth Rock, culminating in an ultra-processed American Dream® made of ground up picket fences, artificial heroes, white plantation mansions and suburban "self-reliance"—I mean, if I was looking for a metaphor, it kinda hits the nail.

Vera: Huh.

Arnie: Told you.

Tom: So are you with me?

Arnie: Three fifty, was it? I'll start the oven.

Vera: Yeah, bud! Let's fuckin' make this garbage!

Publisher's note: Mrs. Tycoon and I both remember this recipe having been called Mock Crown Roast in our old copy of Betty Crocker's Cookbook, accompanied by a prominent picture. In our current copy, the tenth printing, from 1971, the recipe has been demoted, having no picture and the humble title "Hot Dog" Casserole, though the subtitle still says it "looks like a mock crown roast." I've elided the two titles because I think both concepts are intrinsic to the dish.