So, we learned yesterday that hot dogs, along with other cured and processed meats, are bad for you. As in, CANCER bad for you. Like, cigarettes and alcohol. Which I think may be a smidgen of hyperbole, honestly. I don't know anyone who goes through several packs of hot dogs a day.
In light of the bad press - which, let's be honest, no one picks up a hot dog thinking it's really going to be good for them - I wanted to reminisce about some of my favorite hot dog moments. It may seem trite, and if it is, I don't care. It's my blog, and I'll be trite if I want.
My first hot dog - that I can remember - was in a Wienerschnitzel in California. I must have been, oh, I don't know, maybe five or six. For some reason, I remember it had an airplane inside... So it may not have been a Wienerschnitzel, although they've largely been closed so there's no way to know for sure. It wasn't a real airplane, just one of those super gimmicky cartoon-like fast food deals that strongly hint at "airplane" while really just being a place to consume processed meat. I honestly don't remember much about the dog, just that experience... One of those indelible childhood memories. My wife says that the reason I like really junky foods is because of these childhood associations. She's probably right. But I'd rather have a hot dog than sushi. I might live longer if I ate the sushi, but I wouldn't be happier.
Next, I offer the park grill. I'm convinced these things will last through the atomic war that is inevitable and coming soon. I have eaten countless numbers of things cooked on one of these, and I still love it. Sure, it almost always tastes of lighter fluid, and is either under cooked or severely burned... But slather some ketchup on that bad boy, and give me a bag of chips, and I'm golden. Throw in a 12 oz can of Shasta and I'm even better. I grew up in a house of seven kids. My dad worked as a plumber most of the time, and mom did what she could (she did several different things over the decades), and while we always generally had enough, there was never much to spare. So once in a while we'd get real beef hot dogs or polish dogs, and it was an occasion. As much of a hot dog junkie as I am, I can't bring myself to eat the chicken/turkey/beef hot dogs. They need to be all beef for this boy, and preferably polish dogs.
Here's the reason why:
This is a little hot dog stand in Chicago, located generally between Soldier Field (where the Bears play) and the Chicago Field House museum (which is the neo-classical style building you see in the pic above). When my wife and I lived in Michigan, we went to Chicago several times to see such things, and when I was there I was feeling a bit peckish and decided I'd give one a try. It makes me want to weep, now, because no hot dog will ever be the same. Ever. And while that may not sound like a big deal, it means that something has been diminished in my life. It's like there's a supernova that took place in the night's sky, and every other star pales in comparison. Yeah, I went there. It's true. I still (!) jones for that dog.
I'm not saying we should all eat more hot dogs. I'm not. But like most things in life, in moderation anything can and should be enjoyed. So go ahead and have a hot dog. Especially if you're in the neighborhood of Soldier Field.
In light of the bad press - which, let's be honest, no one picks up a hot dog thinking it's really going to be good for them - I wanted to reminisce about some of my favorite hot dog moments. It may seem trite, and if it is, I don't care. It's my blog, and I'll be trite if I want.
My first hot dog - that I can remember - was in a Wienerschnitzel in California. I must have been, oh, I don't know, maybe five or six. For some reason, I remember it had an airplane inside... So it may not have been a Wienerschnitzel, although they've largely been closed so there's no way to know for sure. It wasn't a real airplane, just one of those super gimmicky cartoon-like fast food deals that strongly hint at "airplane" while really just being a place to consume processed meat. I honestly don't remember much about the dog, just that experience... One of those indelible childhood memories. My wife says that the reason I like really junky foods is because of these childhood associations. She's probably right. But I'd rather have a hot dog than sushi. I might live longer if I ate the sushi, but I wouldn't be happier.
Next, I offer the park grill. I'm convinced these things will last through the atomic war that is inevitable and coming soon. I have eaten countless numbers of things cooked on one of these, and I still love it. Sure, it almost always tastes of lighter fluid, and is either under cooked or severely burned... But slather some ketchup on that bad boy, and give me a bag of chips, and I'm golden. Throw in a 12 oz can of Shasta and I'm even better. I grew up in a house of seven kids. My dad worked as a plumber most of the time, and mom did what she could (she did several different things over the decades), and while we always generally had enough, there was never much to spare. So once in a while we'd get real beef hot dogs or polish dogs, and it was an occasion. As much of a hot dog junkie as I am, I can't bring myself to eat the chicken/turkey/beef hot dogs. They need to be all beef for this boy, and preferably polish dogs.
Here's the reason why:
This is a little hot dog stand in Chicago, located generally between Soldier Field (where the Bears play) and the Chicago Field House museum (which is the neo-classical style building you see in the pic above). When my wife and I lived in Michigan, we went to Chicago several times to see such things, and when I was there I was feeling a bit peckish and decided I'd give one a try. It makes me want to weep, now, because no hot dog will ever be the same. Ever. And while that may not sound like a big deal, it means that something has been diminished in my life. It's like there's a supernova that took place in the night's sky, and every other star pales in comparison. Yeah, I went there. It's true. I still (!) jones for that dog.
I'm not saying we should all eat more hot dogs. I'm not. But like most things in life, in moderation anything can and should be enjoyed. So go ahead and have a hot dog. Especially if you're in the neighborhood of Soldier Field.
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