In a new segment, Alex Casey tries recreate some iconic small screen meals. In this edition, she tackles 30 Rock‘s heart-attack-inducing Cheesy Blasters. //
If there is one thing that Liz Lemon loves more than slankets – it’s cheese. Which is why, in season four of the show, it’s no surprise that she delightedly plays air guitar to the tune of the Cheesey Blasters theme song after ordering them for everyone at a restaurant:
My interest was piqued by the turducken-style concept, so I decided to try and make them myself to enjoy with a few excellent 30 Rock episodes. The instructions are pretty much all there in the jingle, so I figured it would be easy enough.
Step One: Gather Atrocious Ingredients
Trust me, there’s is nothing sadder than going to Countdown to buy just these things and an industrial-sized Asahi. I quickly realised that New Zealand doesn’t have Jack cheese, and that I don’t know what Jack cheese actually is. I went for Noble cheddar because of the noble culinary task that awaited me. There were a group of buff gym boys looking at the frozen vegetables. I sidled up to grab my pathetic frozen single serve pizzas. “It’s for a thing,” I muttered to nobody.
Step Two: Defrost One Half of Pizza Boob
Look at those funny pizza boobs. The first thing I realised is that, if I’m wrapping a pizza around a hot dog, that shit’s got to be pliable. I parted the pizza boobs and got one of them puppies defrosting.
Step Three: Make Terrible Regrettable Hole in Frankfurter
I had this great idea to make a hole inside the Frank, and then somehow administer the slivers of cheese down the hole. Using a straw to siphon out a sausagey layer, I quickly released I was creating a thing of nightmares. Abort mission.
Step Four: Grate Cheese
All good. Noble.
Step Five: Cook Frankfurter
All good. Trying hard not to think about that upsetting meat hole and failing miserably.
Step Six: Put Cheese Inside Frankfurter
This is getting horrific and increasingly sexual somehow.
Step Seven: Somehow Get Pizza Wrapped Around Cheese Frankenstein
I put the hot dog in the pizza, just like Liz told me. I realised quickly that the depressing snack size pizza would not fully embrace the girth of the dog without me holding it. I was at a serious roadblock.
Step Eight: Be a Genius and Integrate a Handy Paperclip
I’ve seen people do this to the butt of a roast chicken, so I knew it was a thing. I grabbed a filthy paperclip from the office, flattened it out, and skewered through my uneasy creation.
Step Nine: Put the Thing in the Oven and Think About What You’ve Done
I’m sorry Gordon, I’ll be better next time, I promise.
Step Ten: Enjoy Your Mildly Burnt Culinary Catastrophe
I ate it. I really did it. I even accidentally ate some of the paperclip and cut my mouth. Perhaps it’s the lack of jack cheese, or maybe just the depressing nature of making one serving, but I wasn’t left feeling particularly good about the experience. I think I’ll leave the celebratory air guitar to Liz on this one.
But hey, thanks Meat Cat! (for the impending heart disease)