I always watch what I eat. I don’t like junk food. Empty calories are an anathema to me. I can say no to every dessert on the planet. (Except Chuckles.) Chocolate leaves me cold. Coffee? Never tasted it. Booze? Don’t touch the stuff.
But I can’t resist a good hot dog. I’m a sucker for a great Chicago dog every time.
As far back as I can remember, I was “dog” crazy. But it wasn’t always about David Berg or Vienna at the beginning of my gastronomic career.
Growing up in Wilmette, Illinois as part of the first real TV generation, I was constantly bombarded with images of Little Oscar and the Weinermobile.
In those by-gone fifties days, commercials for Oscar Mayer products ruled the airwaves. They seemed to dominate every ad break I can ever recall.
And so according to their game plan, I craved Oscar Mayer hot dogs. And my mother- always on her way out the kitchen door to a bridge tournament, “maj” game or ladies charity board meeting- was only too glad to let me boil them up.
They were quick and easy and really hit the spot.
Until I discovered Lerner’s.
I couldn’t have been more than eight when my father really upped the ante when he took me there. Located at Kedzie near Bryn Mawr in Chicago (currently the site of Northside Prep I think) it was the full-on Chicago dog experience.
In one leap, I graduated from mustard only to mustard, relish, pickle, tomato- and for me the most timid of all eaters- chopped onions. (I thought of them as “white, square onions.” A kind that was indigenous only to Lerner’s and not found any other place growing in Nature.)
And it was “later” to Oscar Mayer ever since (I do still dig the Weinermobile, however.)
From Lerner’s it was a normal progression to Big Herm’s and Hershey’s on Dempster. (Although honesty compels me to say that I mostly always ordered the cheeseburger at Hershey’s instead of the hot dog. I was wild about his secret sauce.)
And then came Fluky’s on Western Avenue in Chicago.
I was bonkers for their hot dogs. And their hot dog gum. But then they made a tragic move to the other side of Western and I swear the hot dogs never tasted the same to me again. (They must have had to thrown out the old boiling water or something.)
But in 1975, Bill motorcycled me to Superdawg at Milwaukee at Devon. Freaked out over it. What was not to love? Nestled in its cozy box, blanketed by yummy fries and neon green relish…a masterpiece on a bun.
But again, I don’t always indulge in a dog there. Their Superburger with grilled and raw onions is my favorite Chicago hamburger. I order it practically every time I go.
And I also have to admit that the Superdawg is a little on the large size for me. It is “Super” after all.
When it comes to hot dog noshing, these days I like Portillo’s and I used to like Weiner Circle on Clark.
Yeah, I said it. “Used to like.”
I had an unfortunate experience there just a few weeks back at lunch. (No, I don’t go there for their famed late night theater of abuse and customer-razzing. I don’t eat anything late at night. For reasons of diet and/or heartburn.)
I was at Weiner Circle for a business meeting and I was buying. I ordered two hot dogs, one order of fries and two small diet drinks.
And the lady behind the cash resister said, “Eighteen seventy-five, please.”
(Although I don’t think she said “please.”)
Huh? As bad as I am at math – and see Story Problem when you’re done with this post if you haven’t read it already- two hot dogs, one order of fries and two drinks could not be almost twenty dollars.
I glanced at the menu. A hot dog was $3.20. Let’s see, times two plus $2.15 for fries plus $1.60 a drink came to came to $11.75. Not $18.75. It was daylight robbery and I knew it.
But like I said, I was on business, the woman was large, gruff and in a hurry, and I didn’t think I’d come out the “weiner” in that argument. And so I reluctantly handed her a twenty.
And didn’t even ask for the change.
Later that night I went on Yelp to check them out.
Yup, there were other people complaining that the same thing had happened to them. It still made me feel totally suckered and it will be the last money they will ever get from yours truly. I will NEVER go there again.
There’s always Clark Dogs and Flub-a-dub Chub. (Although I hate the name and don’t like eating in their basement.)
Besides, I do always have one ace in the hole.
My brother, Kenny, grills the BEST hot dogs in the universe. When the mood strikes him and he fires up, all bets are off. The char is perfect, the size ditto. His condiments don’t miss a trick either. Right down to the neon relish and chopped onions.
Ben Casey E/R. Sidebar: On one of his last bbq outings, Nick and I eagerly convened on his apartment hungrily awaiting another triumph of charred deliciousness when we were greeted at the door by Mary Lu with the news that Kenny was at the Northwestern Hospital emergency room awaiting treatment for a stray knife slice to the hand after a disagreement with an onion. (Or was it a tomato, Kenny?)
That was bad news. Our faces fell. But the good news was Kenny knew some doc in the emergency room, got seen right away, and was back and cooking (with stitches) in practically no time!
I hate to sound so heartless, but if you ever had one of his fabulous barbecues, you’d want him back and grilling ASAP, too.
There are still unchartered waters in my quest for the perfect dog.
I have heard strange and wondrous tales about Gene and Jude’s (no relish?) and I’m almost tempted to get in line at ten thirty a.m. for Hot Doug’s. No scratch that. I wouldn’t wait in line for anything- except maybe a crack at another Hershey’s long-gone secret-sauced burger.
But, now, as the fall is finally upon us, I’m feeling a slight char in the air.
“Hello, Kenny? I know that it’s your birthday this Sunday and it’s supposed to be your special day and all. But I was thinking that it’s getting to be that time again…
“And how are you fixed for relish?”
Funny! It was an onion and if I didn’t have the knife in my hand I would have caught it. Thanks for the compliment!!
Your baseball team breathed a collective sigh of relief that your fielding and double play-turning skills were not impaired. They were so happy.
Growing up in West Rogers Park, we had a choice of numerous hot dog joints to choose from on and around Devon Avenue. Ruby’s, Frank’s, one whose name I can’t remember just east of California, and (the best of them all) the Red Hot Ranch. Now, why was RHR the best? Because we felt the hot dogs everywhere were the same. The differentiation was the french fries. RHR served the fries in a brown paper bag, and it only took eight seconds for the grease to start making its mark on the bag. Couldn’t beat the RHR hot, greasy fries.
My cousin, Stu Hertzberg, was ALL about the Ranch. I heard about it constantly. Sadly, I never made it there. Sidebar, Bob: one day at Ojibwa’s post camp this summer, they served hot dogs for lunch and prime rib for dinner. No contest for me. Had the dog. Skipped the prime rib. (And thanks for providing me with a place with a scale up there, btw. Used it every morning!)
I hope so!! It’s getting tougher to turn the 6-4-3 and tougher to mezaluna your onion.
Speak for yourself. I can mezzaluna my onion just fine!
Always funny- I relished this article- I feel the same ! Leslie
Nice pun, Leslie! See you Monday!
you betcha! Actually looking very forward to seeing the very clever and talented woman behind these insights. L
Ditto.
GONNA SEND FOR ALLAN BROTHERS HOT DOGS WITH CASINGS FOR MY SISTER’S BIRTHDAY IN PALO ALTO.HOPE THEY’RE GOOD. KINDA LIKE THE BRIGHT RED ONES ATTACHED TO EACH OTHER IN THE OLDEN DAYS DELI CASES.I’LL LET YOU KNOW.
Thanks, doll. What a good present. Keep me posted. I’ve sent Portillos around the globe.
Definitely right about the Weiner Circle saying the total is more than it should be. Happened to my family last week and they didn’t bother arguing.
So they got your loved ones, too. Disgraceful. I bet they count on people just going with the program. They won’t get me back there! Thanks, David. I still feel stupid.
Sorry…..But the BEST dogs in Chicago were at 83rd and Jeffery……”Carl’s”. Just down the street from Chicago Vocational High School.
Hot Dog (Vienna, of course), Fries (Dumped in a bag), an 8 oz Coke, PLUS THE SALES TAX=37 CENTS!!!!
Like you, Ellen, never drink coffee. Beer is nauseous. A vodka and tonic only at Bar Mitzvahs and weddings. And, the ONLY dessert I like is ice cream.
I knew I could count on you to ring in for your side of town. Your loyalty does you credit.
DONT FORGET SIEGALS ACROSS FROM CARL’S .. ALSO THE ONE ON 86 TH AND STONY THAT MOVED NORTH ..AND THE DIRTY LITTLE STAND ON DIVISION EAST OF LA SALLE IN THE OLD DAYS..
Weighing in with Bernie…Carl’s – great! However, The Pit on Stony Island was my very favorite. We are hot dog starved way out here in Palo Alto. Can’t wait for my brother to arrive with his special treat. What a brother…he’s also sending Lou Malnati’s pizza! Big birthday bash comin’ up. (Hi to Bob Boehm.) Ellen, thanks for your wonderful Blog. I enjoy every arrival in my in-box.
Happy happy, Nancy! Your Chicago friends all join me in wishing you a wonderful day. (And what a thoughtful brother you have, btw.). Thanks for your very kind words. Glad we can all be in this journey together. Fondly, Ellen
Hi Nancy,
How the heck are you??
Yes, The Hot Dog Pit was great. The guys use to stop there on a Saturday after a ball game because we could sit at the counter and relax after a rough time on the field.
Remember the little trays of condiments on the counter so you could customize your own sandwich?
OMG of course! Those pickles! Sitting at that counter and noshing those pickles…what a treat.
Ellen, I am using your blog site to contact an old friend. Holy Cow-all! It’s Nancy Cowall. Please contact me at rboehm@tbfgroup.com to catch up. Bob Boehm
Glad to be of use, Bob. I used your scale.
Before I moved to Wilmette and the Chicago area, and found out what a real dog tasted like, my Dad used to drive me to the nearest Dog n’ Suds drive-in near St. Louis. A foot long and a root beer was the order of the day. I am not so sure the dogs were that great, but it was great memories with my Dad.
And my son, Nick, loved Sabrett’s hot dogs in NYC when he was a little boy. Wouldn’t eat in any of the great New York restaurants. Would sit there with us and hold out for the hot dog cart. I love this. It’s ALL about the memories, Steve. Thanks for reminding me.
The Hot Dog Pit on Stoney was my fav until moving to the North Shore. Later they did move to the Northside at Foster and California and I picked back up with it through the 70’s. They also had a great cheeseburger on which the cheese was actually “Cheese Whiz” (secret recipe). I ordered the burger 2 out of 3 times along with fries and their famous shakes. The original owner (Ted… Gottstein?) was a cousin of my aunt so we called the place Uncle Teddy’s. Today I only grill Allen Bros steak burgers but would trade for one of Uncle Teddy’s anytime.
Ellen, you are like a vintage De Lorean…always bringing me back to the future. Thanks!
Nice analogy, Gary! (Although I would have used “classic” instead of “vintage.” A quibble however.) Glad you enjoyed this one. Thanks for your addition. Let’s have a hot dog irl done time. But you are paying. (I don’t buy unless I’m on business.)
With all this hot dog talk and living in the north burbs you left off 2 of the best hot dog places. How about Little Louis in northbrook which always bagged the fries in the brown paper bag and Poochies . Poochies had great dogs and you could get them either boiled or grilled but the hidden gem of Poochies was the skirt steak sandwich with grilled onions and cheddar cheese spread fresh on the gonnella french bread.
Living in AZ over the last 20 years it was challenging finding a good chicago dawg. Then Portillos came to the rescue and have opened 2 locations 1 in scottsdale and 1 in Tempe in the last year
ps I was lucky enough to get the pleasure of working a very big long grill with Kenny at Ojibwa serving 200+ people for Gold rush day a few of my camp years
Great comment, Mark! Next time Ill chillax in sunny Arizona and you can write the blog! Other people rang in about Poochies but I had to do my faves.
Now I have a taste for a hot dog….
Nice one, Mark! Sorry about that. But I have a taste for the Teepee! You have a standing invitation to come here, visit me and we will go to Poochie’s. (although they have moved and I don’t they’re so great any more.)
I was just at the Teepee last friday on Indian School. Its not far from my office.
By the way when you do come to phoenix you don’t want me writing your GREAT blog but I will take you to the Teepee . Give my regards to Kenny & if he gets to Phx have him give me a call
Will do. And order the chile relleno for me next time you go.