k.moore blog

Admittedly, my visit to Chicago in the middle of March was not the most strategic weather—wise.  Wind whips in off Lake Michigan, making downtown an inescapable, eye stinging, clothes ruffleing, wind tunnel. 

Regardless, I had a blast in Chi-town, having celebrated the most Irish of holidays, St. Patricks Day, the day when a pipe-fitters union dumps a fluorescent dye into the river to make it glow green.  I took away several interesing pieces of information about Chicago, and perhaps sad on my part, the most interesting to me was the Chicago Hot dog.

Previously unaware of marvelous “dog” innovations the city boasts, I was taken aback by both the quantity and quality of hot dog stands, which in reality, would be considered “dives” to most patrons.  When UAlbany students drunkenly stumble to their 2 a.m. noshing destinations, pizza reigns number one, and unless there is a designated driver crazy enough to cart a crew of sloppy drunks to Denny’s or a 24-hour-McDonalds, pizza is pretty much the only option.

Not in the Windy City, my friends. Many hot dog shops in Chicago are open 24—hours—a—day, seven—days—a—week.  Seriously.  I drove by a hot dog stand at 9 a.m. on a Sunday, coffee in hand, aghast that people could eat hot dogs at that hour.  Anyway here’s the deal:  A traditional Chicago hot dog has amongst other things, a whole kosher dill pickle spear and juicy tomato slices on top, and no ketchup allowed.  Yup, you heard it, so if you’re a slave to that pasty, salty, tomato sludge, don’t even bother; requesting ketchup in a Chi-Town hot dog stand is an offense likely to get you laughed away.

Another key component of a great tasting Chicago Hot Dog is the order in which ingredients are layered, true, it may sound minor, but it is specifically designed to titilate taste buds, and if assembled properly, each and every bite should have a consistent flavor.

It is important to know the Chicagoan lingo to purchase a dog.  Equally important is knowing what you want when you get to the head of the line.  A hot dog stand is a busy atmosphere, loaded with all kinds of characters.  The counter person expects you to know what you want and doesn’t want to answer your whiny questions or handle request like,  “ummm…could I have extra tomatoes and onions, but no pickle.”  If you don’t want something on your dog, man-up and pull it off with your fingers.  Think of the Soup-Nazi episode of Seinfeld when placing your order.

Back to terminology, order a “Chicago Dog with the works,” if you want it all.  “Chicago Dog” refers to an all beef one, in a streamed sesame seed bun.  Preparation is key too; never boiled or grilled, but simmered in steam to 170 degrees. ”The Works” refers to everything;  mustard, celery seed, tomato slices, a pickle spear, onions, and green relish.  If you want to be a sissy, “naked” will get you a plain dog.  To re-iterate, most stands don’t even carry ketchup, so don’t ask. 

Once called “Depression Sandwiches,” Hot dog tradition in chicago began in 1929, by Abe Drexler, who created Fluky’s, which maintains two Chicago locations. The irony in all this is how excited I am.  I spent three years as a vegetarian.  With the exception of maybe once a year, when I’m camping and we cook hot dogs over an open fire, I liken hot dogs to cat food—disgusting.  In the face of the great Chicago dog, I mowed down with great enthusiam, after a day of drinking green beer, or course.  As Ron Burgundy would say, ”When in Rome.” Cheers!