As a writer, if you’ve ever worked with ChatGPT or other AI technologies in any capacity, including just goofing around with its abilities (none of us would ever attempt to use it for anything artistic, right?) you know a couple of things to be true:

  1. Chat GPT really thinks it can write comedy.
  2. Chat GPT really thinks it can write well.

So, being the kind of editor who is always open and wiling to giving young humor writers their first big comedy writing break, I commissioned AI to write the very first article for The Leghorn. Why? Well, mostly to illustrate the reason for two of The Leghorn’s submission policies:

  1. We do not accept works created by AI.
  2. We do not accept humor based upon tired Southern stereotypes.

Except this time. Now you see why we don’t. My apologies in advance.

The prompt was for ChatGPT to perform as a southern chef on a cooking show making a southern dish. Oh, you just know this is going to be good.

Well hey there, sugarcakes, and welcome back to ChefGPT’s Down-Home Kitchen of Culinary Overindulgence, where butter is king, bacon is queen, and sanity left the building three recipes ago.

Today, we’re fixin’ to create the most outrageous, unnecessary, cardiologist-approved Southern monstrosity ever unleashed upon public airwaves. If the FCC had taste buds, they’d shut us down.

Ladies, gentlemen, and hungry sinners — we’re makin’:

ChefGPT’s Deep-Fried Triple-Stack Biscuit Butter Bourbon Apocalypse

Strap in. Maybe hydrate. Possibly call your next of kin.

Ingredients (Don’t you judge me)

  • 12 enormous buttermilk biscuits (the kind you could use as wheel chocks)
  • 1 family-size brick of salted butter (softened until it has regrets)
  • 1 cup brown sugar
  • 1 cup white sugar
  • 2 cups crushed pecans
  • 2 cups thick-cut bacon, preferably candied in your darkest secrets
  • 1 quart heavy cream
  • 1 bottle bourbon (you’ll “cook” with it, sure)
  • 2 cups self-rising flour
  • 4 eggs
  • 1 gallon peanut oil
  • One whispered apology to your arteries

Step 1: Baptize the Biscuits in Butter

Take those monstrous biscuits and split ’em open like you’re revealing ancient treasure.

Now slather — and darlin’, I mean slatherrrrr — that softened butter into every nook and cranny. If the biscuit doesn’t shine like a televangelist’s forehead under studio lights, add more.

Remember: we’re not spreading butter. We’re giving the biscuit purpose.

Step 2: Build the Sweet Southern Situation

Combine brown sugar, white sugar, pecans, and a generous “oopsie” of bourbon.

Lay down your candied bacon strips and tuck them inside the biscuit like they’re being put to sleep at a luxury southern spa.

Now stack those suckers — three high — until you’ve formed a warm, flaky carbohydrate skyscraper.

Step 3: Batter Like You Mean It

Whisk flour, eggs, heavy cream, and a slosh of bourbon until the mixture resembles something your great-aunt would whisper about behind closed doors.

Dunk your biscuit tower in it. If the batter doesn’t cling to it like your ex who can’t take a hint, it’s too thin.

Step 4: Fry It Like You’re Mad at It

Heat your peanut oil in a pot big enough to boil a small canoe.

Ease your batter-dunked tower into the oil like you’re lowering a baby into baptism water — if the baby were made of biscuits and poor decisions.

Let it fry. Let it crisp. Talk nice to it. Flip it over if it starts makin’ that “help me” sound.

It should emerge looking like a golden relic discovered in the ruins of a deep-fried civilization.

Step 5: Bourbon Salvation

While it’s hotter than the surface of Florida in July, drizzle it with a bourbon syrup made of equal parts sugar, bourbon, and absolute disregard for moderation.

If it flames up, wave a dish towel dramatically and shout, “THAT’S FOR FLAVOR!”

Step 6: Serve the Madness

Place your masterpiece on a platter large enough to interfere with nearby satellites. Garnish with bacon, pecans, and maybe a butter sculpture of a mythical creature that nobody asked for.

Stand back. Admire. Or fear it. Both are valid.

Final Notes for the Brave

Serve warm. Share with friends. Or enemies — you’ll achieve the same result either way.

Tune in next time when ChefGPT teaches y’all how to deep-fry an entire holiday meal inside a hollowed-out watermelon.

Bless your hearts, your stomachs, and your future medical bills!

eggicon | The Leghorn