This will be the hallowed Time of Grilling, and I know what I want. I don’t want anything fancy, not this time. As much as it’s a delight to get ginger-salmon kebabs instead of the usual rote meat, I’m not in the mood. I don’t want steaks. I don’t want a polish sausage, and I don’t even want a brat. Not a beer brat or a wild-rice-and-goat brat or even a plain Johnsonville spitting and hissing as it’s laid in the bun.
I want a hot dog.
Yes, yes, it’s what you make for the kids, because that’s all they’ll eat. But there’s something to be said for a simple hot dog piled with onions and relish and mustard (not the stone-ground cracked-seed specialty mustard, but regular yellow Norman-Rockwell-approved mustard) and a ribbon of Heinz ketchup. On a bun that’s been kissed by the grill. Side dish? Salty greasy Old Dutch ripple-chips. Maybe a Push-up for dessert.
When you’re having guests, you can’t serve them this stuff. They’ll think you’ve lost your will to experiment, to surprise, to Push the Boundaries of traditional fare. But seriously, I want a hot dog. A Hebrew National, to be specific. With a Coke made from cane sugar. Or a Schlitz, now that I think of it. And then I want the same thing again.
If you can’t enjoy pig snouts and nitrates once a year, and enjoy them for what the are – delicious pig snouts and nitrates – then what’s the point? Have a great weekend – and we’ll see you soon. Remember, the lakes are ten degrees colder this ear. Try not to fall out of the boat.




Best hot dogs....
The best hot dogs I ever had were at Ft. McCoy in Wisconsin (middle of nowhere, nowhere defined as Sparta & Thoma(sp?) Wisconsin).
They snapped when you bit into them. I was told it was because they left the skins on them - whatever it is, I haven't been able to find anything similar out here in Oregon.
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Ooooh! Shiny!