I’ve been accused of being a food snob. But, let me be frank, since I count red dye as a tasty food group, I hardly think I qualify. Don’t get me wrong, I love mussels steamed in ale with herb encrusted croutons or Beluga caviar on toast points or French chef Paul Bocuse’s $85 bowl of black truffle soup, but nothing is more satisfying than a fried bologna sandwich on Wonder bread with mayo and iceberg lettuce.
Except, of course, the hot dog.
Like millions of Americans, my first hot dog came from an Oscar Meyer package. My mom would stuff it, boiled or grilled, in an ‘enriched’ white bread bun (to this day I still don’t know what it was ‘enriched’ with) and serve it on a plate. The mustard and relish (no ketchup for hot dogs in our family) were on the table, but I didn’t want those flavors to take away from the ‘meat.’ When a German deli opened in my home town of Bayside, Queens, Long Island, New York, I was introduced to non-packaged, ‘fresh’ hot dogs. You know, the kind that are all strung together… The kind that are encased in a skin that pops when you bite into it… the ‘juices’ spilling into your mouth. Oh, the wonder of it all.
Soon after that, the spicy delight of Hebrew National was introduced to my hot dog repertoire… This all beef, very red dog became a favorite. No skin popped, but this new edgier flavor made up for that. That is until one Saturday afternoon at Coney Island. Now I had heard of Nathan’s hot dogs, but until the summer of my 13th birthday, I had never had one. I waited on line to get my order then joined my friends at a nearby table. I had no idea what food experience was waiting for me. I hesitated. I didn’t want to be disappointed. I started eating my french fries (Nathan’s has fantastic french fries)… first one fry… then another. Finally, I couldn’t postpone the inevitable. I picked up my hot dog and bravely bit in. Nirvana! Popped skin AND spices all in one delicious, stupendous, fantabulous bite!!! I had ascended into hot dog heaven.
Chicago red hots have their pluses and I like dining on a Sabrett’s “umbrella” dog on the streets of NY, but the only hot dogs to have equaled Nathan’s are from Grey’s Papaya on the west side of Manhattan and Pink’s in Los Angeles. My bi-coastal guilty pleasure.
So the next time you read one of my essays on the delights of quail eggs or fennel, remember I’m the gourmand who has gone to the dogs. In a good way.
Nathan’s:
Grey’s Papaya:
Pink’s:
Sabrett’s:
Chicago red hots:
“My Dinners With Richard & Other Musings”
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The hot dog is truly an under-appreciated genre of food!