Sunday, January 27, 2013


One of the things I really miss now I’m back in England is a proper hotdog. Okay, I know probably half of you are disgusted by now and are just straining at the leash to tell me all about the bugs and the rats hairs and the diseases and all the other hotdog horror stories, But hey, a coke and a hotdog, what more can the hungover ask. And the tradition is a noble one and even comes with it's own landmarks Nathan’s on Coney Island, Pinks in Hollywood, but I’m no frankensnob, I’m just as happy with a Sabrett from a pushcart in Manhattan or the ones in the 7/11 revolving on those hot rollers.  I take my dog with mustard and ketchup. I like relish but it tends to get on your shirt. And that's my sunday dog tale and I’m sticking to it.

Click heref or Billie Holiday

The secret word is Bun 

Yossarian -- RIP


Michael Simmons said...

When I was weaned off mushed peas over half a century ago, the only other food I would eat was hot dogs. I'd clam up if anything else tried to make it into my maw. My mother asked the pediatrician what she should do. "Give him hot dogs," he said.

And it was good.

I too love everything from Sabrett's to Nathan's to Pink's. And yeah -- 7-11 dogs are surprisingly good, especially after a night of drink. However, Mickey, as a once-and-always New Yorker, you left off the best hot dogs on earth: Papaya King.

P.S. On a recent land trip, I was hipped to the best of Bosstown: Pearl dogs.

Mick said...

You're too right and the papaya drinks were excellent. Wasn't there one at 6th Avenue and 8th street?

Michael Simmons said...

Yeah, on the northeast corner. Another perfect stop for belly-fillin' when imbibing.