food

The Cannibal

Posted on by nyweenies

Very often these posts will center around something perhaps more interesting than a hot dog. I’ll find a theme or some sort of joke to center the post around. At The Cannibal in the Gotham West Market in Hell’s Kitchen, there is no need for a theme or a joke. Let’s do an experiment. I am going to suggest an action. After performing the suggested action, describe your emotions, privately. It’s therapeutic. Here’s your action: scroll up a bit on the page, look at that picture again, then scroll back to me. What?! How insane is that?! My mouth is watering, my stomach grumbling, and my pupils are dilated into the shape of hearts. Like that emoji guys try to use to be romantic. That picture is just downright pretty. This post needs only words of praise, centered only around the hot dogs. Jokes? Where we’re going, we don’t need jokes.

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This place has a fleet of hot dogs all with epic names. I felt like they were all part of an Italian mob. The guy in the middle? Oh, that’s Jimmy the Tulip. He’s the tough guy of the bunch. Super meaty because he’s dressed in pork rinds. But, he’s the negotiator of the crew because he’s also covered in Kale and a special sauce. He’s a total flip-flopper, and would be a great politician. The guy on the right? That’s Captain Sharp. He’s got style. Always polished and matching in the highest fashion, he’s got 3 different kinds of mustard on top with coleslaw. What a pretty boy. Then there’s that lanky guy on the left – the Cannibal Dog, we call him. This dude is nuts. When he dresses up like this, they call it “Tiger Style”, with spicy chili, Chinese mustard, and scallions (aka elegant onions). He can snap at any minute, and he does for however many bites it takes you to eat him. Lovable and loyal, he’s also wild and unpredictable. He’s my personal favorite. OK, so I did a little bit of a theme thing. Whatever, it was fun. Read it with a Tony Montana accent, you’ll thank me.

Each of the two dogs I ate (I didn’t eat Jimmy the Tulip – KK was all over him – I couldn’t split them up) was phenomenal. Let’s get into the details. Captain Sharp was a white sausage. Popular in Rochester, “white hots”, are uncured and unsmoked and usually contain some veal. Nice and meaty, they also offer a kind of rich flavor that is quite enjoyable and makes you feel fancy. Then, and this is a huge positive for The Cannibal, it was topped with Yellow Mustard. That’s right, the good stuff, classic French’s yellow mustard – the best in the world. They then added whole grain spicy brown. As a big mustard fan, I was pretty damn happy. Great sausage, great toppings, great bun. The only negative piece was there may have been too much mustard. I couldn’t taste anything else. (Not really a bad thing for me, but for you ketchup n00bz out there consider it a warning.)

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The Cannibal Dog! I can’t put into words how good this was. The chili was really spicy, but didn’t kill you. The Chinese mustard was also potent, but went along so perfectly with the chili and the elegant onions (aka scallions) it laid on top of so gingerly. The toppings were great, yes, but I think what really set this wiener apart from other, similarly trendy wieners, was the frank itself. (To be frank.) I’ve written before about the snap. This one had the perfect snap. The best snap I’ve ever been lucky to be a part of. Please understand how important this is: it had the snap. Then, just to put pile more epic passengers on the already epic train, our waiter kind of looked like Tom Morrello. I also had a raspberry ale that was delicious. It was open to the street, so we got some outside air. They even had the Jets game on a projector inside. Gotham Market is cool. The Cannibal is cooler. Trendy hot dogs, Yellow Mustard, chili, and the snap heard ’round the world. Come to the Cannibal as soon as you can.

4.5 weenies.

For the record, the Cannibal Dog is currently the best hot dog in New York City.

*mic drop*

Cheers

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Gray’s Papaya

Posted on by nyweenies

Hot Dogs at Night – A NY Weenies original. (Sung to the tune of Downtown by Petula Clark)

When you’re alone and life is making you lonely
You can always eat… hot dogs
It’s 3 AM, you are tipsy and hungry
Seems to help, I know… hot dogs

Just listen to the music of the traffic in the city
Linger on the sidewalk where the sausages look pretty
Gray’s doesn’t close?
Nothing else is open there
You can forget all your troubles, forget all your cares

So eat hot dogs
Things will be great with some hot dogs
Go with a friend for sure, hot dogs
A whole lot of wieners for yoooouuuuu!

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I really enjoyed writing that song. I also really enjoyed reviewing this hot dog. This was my first “NY Weenies @ Night” review, because it was really late, after a night at the bar. I also ate 3 hot dogs. Good lord. Gray’s Papaya is another “papaya” joint, and is the upper west side rival of the upper east side, recently highly reviewed 4.5 weenie Papaya King. All of these places are similar. There is a lot of yellow, they also serve smoothies and fries, but really everybody goes there for the cheap, quick, and artfully simple weenies. They are also open 24 hours a day. Gray’s was founded in 1974 by a former partner of Papaya King, once had three bustling locations, now has one, and only has half of it’s sign lit. Obviously I am not bothered by this at all, because all that matters is the dog.

Very openly and humbly I approached the counter and asked the two gentleman for their best hot dog. After some hesitation and overcoming a language boundary, below is what they came up with.

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What the hell is that?! The frank looks good, the bun looks good, but whatever they put on top of it is a tremendous mistake. Blasphemy! It’s some sort of onion, ketchup, sweet and sour sauce, urine combination that should never be on a hot dog. Bye Felicia. Very poor start. I guess that’s what you get from the late night staff. I could, however, tell that there was a quality weenie underneath that toxic sludge that they call a topping. (Of course I ate it anyway.) So, I approached the counter after receiving some advice from my personal hot dog adviser Mike and decided to take matters into my own hands. Per the rules, published in the Who Am I? page of this site, I got a classic with mustard. But, just like Papaya King, there is no yellow mustard. Come on, man. I understand this is a New York thing, and try to keep an open mind. I am very pleased with this one, but the bun could have been a little more toasty, and the dog a little bit thicker. It has the snap, and it is a good temperature, color, etc., but it seems a little small. When I place my index finger and thumb on either side of the bun, the frank disappears quicker than a frightened turtle. It must be better than this. Gray’s is legendary, there must be a better hot dog. So, I order a third weenie.

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That’s the ticket. A little bit of chili goes a long way. This was the best of the three, and totally out of protocol, but you only live once as they say (YOLO), and I’m so glad I got this one. Chili, relish, and mustard. Like Bosh, Wade, and LeBron, the three combine to win championships. You can’t lose. Gray’s delivers a high quality hot dog for an incredibly affordable price, but it doesn’t quite match its upper east side rival.

4 weenies

In conclusion, if you want to lose your inhibitions and go to Gray’s to devour 3 hot dogs, bring some Tums and enjoy. I highly recommend it.

Cheers

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The U.S. Open

Posted on by nyweenies

If you’ve never been to the US Open, start planning right now to go next year. It is worth taking off work for, it is worth getting in a really serious fight with your significant other for, and it is worth lying on your resume for. It is totally 1%, yet not pretentious. It is quiet and relaxing, yet entertaining and engaging. I honestly don’t know how they make this event work so well, but it’s real. Food and drink is at every turn in all sorts of different varieties, there is high potential for celebrity sightings, and most importantly, there are weenies. In fact, a whole portion of the food area is dedicated to hot dogs. “Franks and Fries” was one of the most alluring hot dog options I have ever been around, simply because of the environment. However, I must lose any bias based on the event, temper my actions with wisdom, and review the frankfurter only… and stop thinking about Roger Federer’s calves.

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It’s a foot long chili dog. The “Coney Island Footlong Frank”. Y’all know I love my chili dogs, and y’all know I like ’em big and fat, and y’all know I was excited for this bad boy. Y’all know. For the record, this is the biggest hot dog I think I’ve ever eaten. There’s something about stadium dogs. If you remember my Yankee Stadium review, it was massive too, but this one was bigger. I applied the mustard myself and it was yellow (y’all know). The first bite was great – very beefy, a whole mess, and incredibly aggressive. For any WWE fans out there, this hot dog reminded me of Ryback. It’s just an over-the-top experience. Or, maybe I’m speaking of the WWE in general. Regardless, there’s a whole lot of hot dog here and if you have any doubt that you can handle it, step away immediately. But, if you can, feed me more.

To get technical, the bun is toasted quite well, and the chili a little mild, but true hot dog chili, that compliments the whole package with grace. My only gripe was that the weenie might have been boiled. You’d think that after so many years of devouring wieners that I would have a refined pallet and be able to identify these things – like a weenie sommelier. I do think I’m pretty refined, but this one was a complete brain buster. Something was off with the way it was cooked, and it felt a little too mass produced for my liking. There wasn’t a whole lot of soul in the sausage. My great grandma was a big proponent of putting soul in sausages, so that’s a pretty significant demerit to this one. Overall, a very good hot dog, but nothing to sell your soul for. Y’all know.

3 weenies.

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P.S. The fact that Roger Federer lost is deeply saddening. He is truly the greatest tennis player of all time and it would have been awesome to see him win the Open this late in his career. Novak Djokovic is sponsored by Uni Qlo. Enough said. RF 4 lyfe.

Cheers

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Special Edition: Labor Day

Posted on by nyweenies

It’s Labor Day. This means that on Monday we don’t go to work. Let’s be honest, nobody else knows anything more about Labor Day except for your 10th Grade History teacher. Not even your 4th Grade History teacher knows why we have it (sorry, Mrs. Howard). Anyways, without work, what do we, as Americans, do? That’s right! We act as American as possible. What is being as American as possible, oh NY Weenie man? Here are some words to describe what every person should be doing on a Monday get-out-of-work-for-free-American-holiday: outside, sun, beer, family, sports, anthems, red, white, blue, hot dogs, chili, baseball, Washington DC, Nationals game.  So, I spent my Labor Day watching cricket over some tea. NAY! I went to the Nats game, in DC, with my folks, and ate one of the most famous hot dogs of all time from Ben’s Chili Bowl. God Bless America.

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Usually I first write about the place, the experience, etc. This time I want to get right on in to the part about the hot dog. Ben’s Chili Bowl was visited by Obama in 2009. Bill Cosby, although he may not be so popular anymore, has been known to frequent Ben’s, and has outwardly stated that it is his favorite place to eat. Ben’s has a rep, and is one of those places you’ll see on the travel channel one day. It has become so popular that it has a location inside Nationals Park. While obviously I’d rather visit the original, it’s pretty far away and I had a train to catch. Plus, it’s pretty awesome eating a hot dog at a baseball field. Plus, I didn’t want my family to risk running into Bill Cosby…

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I got the half-smoke. What is a half-smoke? It’s a big ass hot dog blended with a little pork sausage, essentially. There is definitely some different flavor to it, but it isn’t enough to take it out of the hot dog category for me. This bad boy is plump. Covered in chili, mustard, and onions, it is a mouthful and a hot mess. The first bite was super juicy, spicy, and delicious. There was chili everywhere. I looked like Ralphie’s little brother Randy from a Christmas Story. Now, I’ve always been a huge proponent of the chili dog. Raised to love the chili dog, this moment brought it all full circle for me, because I even got to enjoy it with the very person who raised me this way. Remember back when I reviewed the Yankee Stadium dog? I said I wanted to hand down the weenie throne and educate a young boy about the sausage. This was that moment, y’all. The plateau of hot dog education was occurring. Today, I earned my PhD in the weenie.

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Look at the focus on those ol’ boys.

I don’t want to go too far and give this dog a serious rating because I don’t want to lose sight of my mission. This hot dog is not served in New York, so please know that it will not be considered in the race for the golden weenie. I will, however, say that it deserves 4 weenies. Get it. It is worth going out of your way for if you are in DC.

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So, what else happened at the game? The Nats lost a crucial game to the Mets, 8-5, but I saw a grand slam, got some discounted Heinekens, went to the bathroom three times, and even got my picture taken with William H. Taft, the 27th President of the United States. Why did I pick Taft? Well, he was also a Chief Justice, the inventor of the seventh inning stretch, rocked a sweet moustache, and more importantly, got stuck in a bathtub one time. My hat goes off to you Mr. Taft; I can only hope to one day be as gracefully gluttonous as you.

Hardcore weenie reviewing resumes next week. Stay tuned.

Cheers

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Épicerie Boulud

Posted on by nyweenies

NY Weenies is not only entertaining, it is educational. Read on and you may discover new words, new ideas, or even yourself. This was my most interesting and most unique review yet. The reason for this is I went alone. Usually I have a companion for the journey, but this time I found myself in a situation where I had no friends. (Not that I don’t have friends, they were just unavailable at the time. That’s what they said, like… Jimmy had a thing, and Sandy had to watch her dog… and Bob, well, he was just “busy.”) So, little old me just meandered up 9th avenue in search of a weenie by myself. This is when I realized that writing about hot dogs is not some sort of game, or joke. Hot dogs are a passion. I now know that I can do this for as long as it takes – because I love it. Today, I discovered myself. I discovered that I… am a hot dog blogger.

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Pictured above is the DBGB dog. Now that is a good lookin’ weenie. DBGB is also the name of one of chef Daniel Boulud’s restaurants. This Boulud dude is a legend. He has a bar and a Mediterranean restaurant and something else, all named after him, directly next to Epicerie, which is directly next to the beautiful Lincoln Center on 63rd and Columbus. Epicerie means grocery, by the way. If you’re ever bored, type it into google and listen to the lady’s voice pronounce it. It’s way more entertaining than I would have predicted. So, here I am at the french grocery store apparently, looking at an opera performance across the street about to consume an 8 dollar hot dog. Not a bad situation to be in. The restaurant itself doesn’t have any tables, and it seems to be catered towards takeout, but fancy takeout. There is a nice little bar area where you can grab oysters and have wine, but lets be real, ain’t nobody got time for that.

Unfortunately since I was alone I don’t have the classic NY Weenies first bite pic, but trust me, I bit. This is a really unique dog. The sauce covering it is kind of like a spicier, kethup-ier hollandaise. It’s really good. There’s also a nice refreshing slaw on the side that I just adore. The bun is well prepared. If I had to compare the bun to a person, it would be Britney Spears – hot and toasty, but kind of flaky with a tendency to fall apart. Again, a very unique bun. The frank itself is super juicy and fat, definitely all beef, and delicious. It doesn’t have that snap that I like so much, but the flavor is pretty ornate.If you put that one in google, a guy says the word, and it sounds like he’s got a stuffy nose. Also very entertaining.

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The moral of the story is the dog is very good, but it’s almost a little too weird. I feel like they tried too hard. Again, I’m thinking about Britney Spears for some reason. It could have been a little more real, sloppy, uncut, raw, etc. Don’t be that kid in class that’s always asking questions and reminding the teacher that she didn’t collect the homework. That’s kind of how I felt about this weenie. Nice kid, though. Also since I was alone, I wasn’t distracted at all, and I wasn’t drinking, so you can definitely take this review seriously. Sacré bleu! 

3.5 weenies.

Cheers

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Rosamunde Sausage Grill

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Where Brooklyn at?!?! That’s right, folks. The hills are alive with the sausages of Brooklyn. Quite honestly I went into this review with very few expectations. I had no idea what I was getting into, and all I really knew was that sausages and beer were a featured partnership in this establishment. Nothing else has to be said. I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do. So, without further delay I put on my most ironic outfit, tightest pants, and glasses that are absolutely unnecessary for my vision and hopped on the L train. What a scene.

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24 beers on tap. 20 different sausages. In the heart of Williamsburg, Rosamunde not only offers a variety of high quality weenies and libations, it also exudes a great vibe. It certainly embodies classic Brooklyn stereotypes, but they are the good stereotypes and they are subtle. For example, they have two TV’s, each playing a different movie the entire time we were inside. One TV had Sammy Davis Jr. and Tony Bennett twirling cute little umbrellas and hanging from windows. The other featured a bloody, murderous Chinese man smiling and playing a ukulele. Similar, I suppose. The beer selection was as crafty as it gets, and super high quality. These beers were all top of the line and rare. I ordered a La Fin du Monde by Unibroue. What an incredible beer. It is 9 percent alcohol and has this golden caramel hue that has previously only been seen in Twix commercials. Find this beer now and consume it. I don’t care what you’re doing, it will be worth it. Driving? In church? Having a baby? Stop and drink this beer. It will be worth it.

I digress, my apologies, this is a hot dog blog. The best sausage was said to be the cheddar brat. I ordered it with chili and onions, then added some spicy brown mustard at the condiment stand. No yellow was available. I don’t know what it is about New York, but people really don’t appreciate yellow mustard as much as they should. This was the best looking weenie I’ve reviewed yet. Literally, this was the juiciest sausage that has ever juiced. The bun was this massive powdery floury thing that I was very unfamiliar with at first but eventually came to love. Kind of like SSBD’s. (Short sleeved button downs).

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Oh my. Ohhhhh my. That’s a sausage. I enjoyed that.

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NY Weenians, let me tell you, this cheddar brat was incredible. Juicy, flavorful, beautifully cooked, great chili, sweet onions, floury bun, infused with cheddar cheese, etc. etc. The list goes on and I will honestly say that this was the best sausage I have reviewed yet. But that is the problem. It was a sausage. This was technically not a hot dog. I can’t, as a hot dog fan and as an American, lie to the people and even give this a rating. I’m sorry to all that I’ve disappointed, but I can’t, “I just can’t even.”

0 weenies.

However, I am not lying when I say I loved Rosamunde. I will absolutely be back and it will be incredible again. Go there if you have any sense of decency. Whatever you’re doing, stop, and go there. It will be worth it. Mowing grass? Riding a pony? Watching the WWE? Stop at Rosamunde. It will be worth it.

Cheers

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Papaya King

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I was not legitimate until now. Until this review, I was not a real hot dog blogger. But now, it’s like I found platform 9 and 3 quarters, hopped on the mustard express, and magically traveled to the University of Wieners and Franks. I am real. In a Field of Dreams, I am Shoeless Joe Jackson. In the Matrix, I am Neo. In Ghost, I am Whoopi Goldberg. E.T. phone home… I have accomplished my dream. Papaya King is an incredibly legitimate establishment. Popular film and television programs such as Seinfeld, Anthony Bourdain, How I Met Your Mother, and Crossing Delancey have mentioned this place. Although it never got a mention on Gossip Girl, I promise you it’s famous. Ladies and Gentleman, Papaya King.

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Just look above these words. I don’t even need to write, but I will. On the Upper East side on 86th and Third Ave neon signs glow, beckoning all passers by to come in for a snack. There’s not much to this place, and there doesn’t need to be. The staff is very friendly, and they are proud to be there. When I asked for their best dog, the man behind the counter genuinely cared to know what my taste buds preferred. Eventually we came to the conclusion that I should have the classic. Sauerkraut and mustard. I knew that this was the classic coming into the place, and I was scared. Generally, I’m not a ‘kraut guy. I find it to be overbearing, and kind of like my Frankie’s on the Go post, that guy at the party who is loud and crappy and takes all the attention. But why, Jack? Why did I ever doubt the Germans? They invented the dog, why would I question their topping choices!? The spiciness of the mustard and the sour taste of the kraut mixed together to form this new harmonious flavor that I’d never tasted before. It reminds me of the first time I had a Yuengling. There’s something else out there? Shocked, I didn’t even realize how good the actual sausage was until the second bite. The snap is there, the temperature is perfect, and the bun is toasted with care. This is a dog of champions. Oh, and they’re 3 bucks? I’ll have another.

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The second dog: plain with mustard. Look at those char marks on the dog. Look at how awesomely I placed the mustard on that bad boy. Look how epic-ly I devour it. I am in my element. Is this place perfect? Is this the best in New York? While it may be incredibly close, it never will be the king. For those that have read my “About Me” page, you know what I think about mustard. Keep it yellow. Papaya King does not have yellow mustard anywhere. I even asked, and it is nowhere to be found. While I kind of respect them for sticking to their guns, the fact of the matter is that they’ve made the wrong choice. I don’t care how much money Gulden’s is giving you, the better choice is to take money out of your pocket and literally pay French’s to be your sauce. At least have it in your restaurant.

Papaya King gets 4.5 weenies.

I absolutely love this place. I will be back, and it is definitely the best quality dog I’ve had in New York so far. However, I do believe that there is an establishment out there that knows how important yellow mustard is, and can rival this landmark in quality. I’ll leave you all with this quote from the great philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche: “And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” Mustard is my music, and the rhythm I dance to is yellow. It is this music that blasts throughout my soul. Stay yellow, my friends.

Cheers

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Schnipper’s

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Sometimes in life you just have to leave the office and go on a hot dog review. After a very quick google search with relatively low expectations I found Schnipper’s. Then, after saying “Schnipper’s” to myself mutliple times and giggling even more multiples of times in between, it was time to devour a dog. A Schnipper’s dog. Ha… Schnipper’s. Schnipper’s is a pretty good name for, like, a pet fish… or gerbil. Yeah, Schnippers the gerbil. That’s it. Even better, say it in a heavy british accent, “‘Ello, this is Schnippers the gerbil! Look at him in his little tophat!” And I digress… let me guide you through this unexpected hot dog wonder of midtown that is Schnipper’s.


Located on Lexington and 51st, Schnipper’s is most definitely a chain. Albeit a small chain with only four locations, it still has a very chainy feel. There’s a line that has rules, and you take a little buzzy thingy to your table that doesn’t even buzz, and its a whole system that is pretty undesirable. I’m like a gerbil on his wheel; a cog in the machine. (I must miss my deceased gerbils from high school, Freddie and Jackson. Why else would I have mentioned gerbils twice in a blog?) Regardless, I was impressed by their freshly brewed sweet tea and fresh squeezed lemonade selection which allowed me make a refreshing Arnold Palmer. Even more importantly, I was pleasantly surprised when I asked for their best dog. The immediate answer was the sloppy dog. Sloppy Joe on a hot dog. Manwich on a Ball Park. Think about how fat that is. Heartburn, constipation, and early onset diabetes on a bun. Sign me up.

The weiner looks gorgeous. I can already tell the actual sausage is of high quality because of the way the skin curls at the end. It also has a balance of length and girth that compliments the bun well. Nestled on the glorious hilltop of hot dog is a massive mound of sloppy joe meat, adorned with cheddar cheese like an angel’s heavenly halo. My first bite is wonderful. I literally had to puncture the skin of the hot dog, which is exactly how it should be. There was the ever desirable snap, then an influx of sloppy joe meat that flowed into the classic hot dog taste for a perfect balance. I felt like Goldilocks in her chair with her porridge. Juuusssttt right.

 schnippergifOK, I know I’ve only been to a few places, but Schnipper’s was the best so far. Yes, its a little chainy, and yes, I laugh everytime I say Schnipper’s, but they made a damn good dog and I am incredibly happy that I discovered this place via google. There were the classic char-grilled elements of a hot dog that brought me back to, quoth Dick, “the good ol’ days of weiner-eatin”, and also the cafeteria inspired goodness of the sloppy joe. What a dog. I highly recommend it to the big and the small, the short and the tall… this dog is a dog for all.

4 weenies.

Cheers

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Frankie’s Dogs On The Go

Posted on by nyweenies

The leftovers of patriotism from July 4th still lingered. It was Friday, the work week was winding down, and something was missing. My life felt incomplete, and I couldn’t process complete thoughts or remember Taylor Swift lyrics. There was a void inside me that mere mortals could never hope to explain. How does one fulfill this void? Impromptu hot dog review. There aren’t a lot of good dog spots near work, but luckily my coworkers and I found one in an iconic American building: Grand Central Terminal. If you haven’t been, its a pretty magnificent place. Spanning 48 acres, accommodating 21.6 million visitors per year, and hosting 525,600 minutes of flash dances, the picture below puts it all in perspective. ‘Murica.

  
   
In case you didn’t realize it, I made a Rent joke just then… like, the musical. Anyways, pictured above is the menu. Notice that they chose the McDonald’s marketing method — everything starts with Frankies. The place is humble, signs are small, and it is literally in the middle of the Grand Central food court. So, the atmosphere leaves something to be desired, but I honestly don’t care if the wiener is good. The variety offered here is exactly what every dog fan wants. There are hot dogs for all moods, but I have to play by the rules, so I simply asked for their best dog. The employee working that day wasn’t too sure what that was. She tried to ask me questions, to which I replied, “your best dog.” Confused and frustrated, she eventually landed on a Chicago Dog, because, well, it “sounded good”. I honestly think she chose it because it was first on the menu. Strike one, Frankies. Rule number 14 of a hot dog stand: employees must know and love their product. So, I order a Chicago and also a classic with mustard. This is a meal, not a snack.

After ordering, time suddenly became a factor as we realized we had to get back to the office for a 1:00 meeting. Luckily this is Frankie’s “On The Go”, so the dogs were packaged up and we headed back. Strike 2, Frankies. Hot dogs are called hot dogs because they are best at a certain temperature: hot. Any transportation time can severely jeopardize this crucial factor. The entire walk back I was sweating. This wasn’t because of the temperature outside, oh no, I was sweating with anticipation. Finally we get back to the office, we all unearth our dogs, dial in to the conference call, and dig in. 

   
 
I started with the Chicago dog. It looks amazing. Tomotoes, peppers, pickles, onions, mustard, and spices. I’ve had some amazing Chicago style weenies before and this looks up to the test. The first bite was great. Then, in between the time I had to say something on the conference call and the time I would take the next bite, I was hit with it. The spice on this dog invaded my mouth and took my taste buds hostage. I wasn’t allowed to taste anything else. It was overbearing and, quite simply, just too much. This experience was kind of like when you go to a party and there’s the really loud outgoing guy with a bright shirt and a dumb haircut. You really like him at first, but after about 2 minutes of conversation you realize that he sucks. The actual frank looked like a quality sausage, the bun was well prepared, but the toppings were overkill. At this point, I wasn’t feeling great about Frankies.

Next was the classic yellow mustard dog — always my favorite. This was a high quality hot dog. I thoroughly enjoyed it and it was prepared very well. I have two critiques: the bun should be toasted more, and the wiener should be charred more. Furthermore, the 3 guys I went with all had great looking, well-reviewed dogs. Dick had one with baked beans, the intern had something epic, and even gluten free Joey V had a bunless dog that looked halfway decent. You’ll never catch me eating a dog without a bun, but even this was probably better than my Chicago dog. (As long as it wasn’t served with an Angry Orchard or a Redbridge.)

My review: 2 weenies.

In summary, the place has potential and I will probably go back for a different dog. The problem is that on that day there was a lady working there who told me that their best dog was their worst dog. Little did they know that nyweenies.com was in the house and I don’t mess around. Strike 3, Frankies. You put a non-hot-dog-lover at the helm and I will expose that weakness. If you are Megatron, I am the cold. If you are Achilles, I am your heel. I found your kryptonite, Frankies. Now the world will know your secrets. (But your yellow mustard dog was pretty damn good.)

Cheers

  

P.S. National Hot Dog Day is Thursday… 

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