The Cannibal: Part Deux

Have you ever been in one of those moods? You know, one of those moods where you have some time to kill before a Broadway show after work and want to get on a Citi Bike and ride really fast to this hot dog place that you wrote about two years ago and crowned as the King of NYC? No? Weird, because, I mean, it was crazy… I was in one of those moods last night!

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Behold! The Jan Ulrich. Slightly over two years ago, I discovered the Cannibal. Known for their outlandish selection of meats at their main restaurant in Chelsea, no man leaves unhappy, unsatisfied, or feeling any better about their beer gut. When I visited their Hell’s Kitchen outpost in Gotham West Market back then, there were many different varieties of hot dogs – enough to take up a section of the menu. Now, they have only two hot dog options, one of which has their homemade wieners serving as the sausage base, and the other has the familiar Brooklyn Hot Dog Co. weenies. I usually don’t like to review the same place twice. As proof I’ve even been to the main restaurant and had their dogs before (shout-out to the Feastie Boys), but since these are completely different, utilizing a different sausage base that I already know and love, I feel compelled. I mean, you’d write a new movie review of The Shining if Eddie Murphy replaced Jack Nicholson right?

Is the Cannibal still king? Well, let’s start with the topic of bacon jam. Sweet Lord have mercy on my soul. This is a creation of a millennium. Sweet, yet fatty and rich, it is the perfect sausage icing. On top of this, we have some lightly flavored bbq chip bits to add a nice crunch. They’re like croutons on a salad or seat belts in cars – not completely necessary, but really nice to have. Next, glazed on the top of this magnificent sandwich (yes, a hot dog is a sandwich), is a delectable spicy mayo. It’s much spicier than you expect and that’s how it should be. If you’re going to sit down and eat a Jan Ulrich, you’re not a pansy, you’re a giant can of testosterone from Sweden ready to devour all the other pansies in the world. Eat up Jan, you deserve it. Is the Cannibal still king? Of course it is. The best weenie in the city hasn’t changed yet, my friends. Go to this establishment ASAP.

4.6 weenies

The Cannibal

Above is the first review I wrote. Below are some useless links to social media stuff.

Cheers

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The Ukraine is Weak: 4th of July 2017

“Do you know what the Ukraine is? It’s a sitting duck. A road apple, Newman. The Ukraine is weak. It’s feeble. I think it’s time to put a hurt on the Ukraine.” – Kramer in Seinfeld. Happy 4th of July everyone. On this special holiday, after almost 2 years of writing about hot dogs, I have decided to take this opportunity to put all of my gumption into verbally abusing a hot dog from another nation. We Americans have thrived off of being unfriendly, loud, fat, and annoying for years (especially in 1776), and I would like to continue this tradition today. A while back, I went to the Ukrainian Village in Manhattan with Mike and had a traditional Ukrainian hot dog. I have been waiting until this day to tell you how awful it was.

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Baczynsky? Sounds like a disease my cousin caught in Korea. It definitely doesn’t sound like someone who knows how to make a weenie. Now, there are 5 distinct issues with the hot dog pictured above. I shall enumerate.

1. The bun, in general. A bun should be one piece of bread, held together. Here, the bun is split clearly up the middle just like Ukraine’s choice of languages. Maybe Russia wants the other half. It also is hard, like a weird piece of ciabatta. Tell me about the last time you wanted a hard weird piece of ciabatta. I didn’t think so.

2. Carrot salad. Am I a rabbit? Am I little bunny foo foo hopping through the forest? No, but I certainly am scooping up the makers of this wiener and boppin’ ’em on the head.

3. Lack of diversity. There is only one topping, it is carrot salad, and there aren’t any other options. In America, we have all sorts of toppings, flavors, ethnic groups, and languages. Ukraine has one: carrot salad, Ukrainian, white people. All the same. Vanilla.

4. The shape of the sausage. No further detail required.

5. The hot dog was not made in America. The hot dog was invented in America, ladies and gentleman. No other country can claim this. Yes, sausages are inherently German, and the Danish have done a great job at making their own style of weenie, but there was a cart in Coney Island that started the whole thing. It’s true, I wrote on homage back in 2015: NHDD 2015 Homage . Don’t try and sneak one past me, Ukraine.

0.01776 weenies. “Murica.

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Joey Chestnut will eat 68 hot dogs today and claim the title of National Hot Dog eating champion for the 10th time in 11 years. Now, go out there, have a wonderful day, and do American things. Crack a craft beer, brewed in the states, grill a weenie, lay back and enjoy yourself. It’s Independence day, so be independent. Freedom isn’t free. America the beautiful, four score and seven years ago, I had a dream, speak softly and carry a big stick, they may take our lives, but they’ll never take our Independence Day! Happy 4th, y’all.

Cheers

P.S. [Disclaimer: The Ukrainian dog was actually pretty decent. If I were being more serious, I’d probably give it a 3-point-something. But, I’m wearing red white and blue right now and feeling very patriotic, so I ask that you kind of just let me have it. Satire, right? Thanks.]

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Barclays Center

The worst team in the NBA and a mediocre, generally less preferred hockey team grace the center of this arena in Brooklyn. This raises many questions for me. Is there a correlation between the caliber of teams in the arena and the caliber of weenies sold at the arena? Well, the Mets were slightly better than the Yankees last year, and I’ll take a Citi Field dog over a Yankee Stadium dog any day. If the mustard that comes out of the spigot is brown and wicked, would you still lick it? Weird question, even weirder, cringe-worthy rhyme scheme. If a tree falls in the forest when nobody is around, does it make a sound? Obviously yes. Like, there’s not even a question, it’s science, of course it makes a sound. OK, I’m not good at asking mysterious questions — on to the part about wieners.

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Foot longs are always fun. They add an element of party to the hot dog that normal dogs don’t have. They are kind of like that friend you’ve always had that is an absolute blast at times, but much better in small doses. I am the kind of person that can take higher doses of foot longs compared to most people, so I was all about the fact that a foot long was an option. Barclays also offers a great condiment section, similar to Citi Field, so I was able to scoop on ample amounts of mustard infused relish as well as spicy brown mustard. Obviously, yellow is preferred, but the relish was outstanding so I was very pleased overall with the topping choices. Pickles are great. Chopped pickles on a hot dog are stellar. Chopped pickles infused with mustard on a foot long wiener?! Breathtaking.

And the rest of the experience? Not much different from other hot dogs I’ve had, with perhaps a slightly higher quality sausage. There wasn’t a snap, but it was firm and juicy with solid flavor. Apparently this place is a spin off of an actual restaurant in Wiliamsburg, the Vanderbilt, so they’re upping the ante in BK. I’ve had much worse. Toto, we’re not in Asia anymore…

3.25 weenies

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I should probably be embarrassed by that picture, but Nietzsche thinks I shouldn’t.

Cheers

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Pittsburgh: Essie’s Original Hot Dog Shop

Pittsburgh is known for many things. Pittsburgh is a sports town, an old steel town, a Wiz Khalifa stomping ground, and a black and yellow breeding ground. It’s a bridge town, an incline town, where Gene Kelly used to clown, and a fatty food mecca world renowned… Poetry and rhyming aside, some friendly local folks wanted to take me out for a dog, and of course I was down. I was lucky enough to go to “The Dirty O”, or more officially, The Original Hot Dog Shop, on a cold day after Thanksgiving when, like the Grinch, my stomach grew three sizes that day. I certainly couldn’t frown.

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Yep, this place is old school. The name does not lie. The first thing I noticed is that the actual restaurant is pretty run-down and old. Nothing has changed since the 80’s, but it’s a good thing. They sell weird old beers that nobody has seen in a few fortnights, and the guy selling you those beers hasn’t been able to see in a few decades. It’s like when you put on that really old, stained, torn up sweatshirt you love. You love that it’s nasty. It’s comfortable and it feels amazing. The dogs, though, are not old, stained, and torn up. They are flat out stellar.

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These weenies are such good sports. I made fun of them for hours, and they just played along. It’s amazing how thick their skin is. OHHH, Pun City! Honestly though, this is some thick skin. If you know NY Weenies, you know what skin brings: the snap. The Dirty O’s dogs possess a fat snap unlike any that New York has never seen. My favorite kind of snap resembles the moment when you pop a loosely filled water balloon. It’s a quick release followed by an avalanche of flavor. The kind of snap I experienced on this day in Pittsburgh was like puncturing a football with a butter knife. It took a lot of effort, but it was still a lot of fun, and the flavor exploded out of there like cuckoo from a cuckoo clock. The taste of the weenie was incredible, rich and smoky, and the buns lightly toasted nicely. The best part about the Original, though, is the selection of toppings they have. I didn’t see anything you couldn’t order. So, I ordered dog 1: chili, mustard, and slaw. This is the quintessential Virginia classic. I was raised on this combo. Dog 2: yellow mustard, obviously. The other dog pictured was not for me (a loyal NY Weenian would know this, as it has been said that you can’t put ketchup on a dog unless you’re under 12 years old), but the pictures looks better with 3 dogs. Maybe I should eat 3 every review?

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I loved this place and I highly recommend it to anyone travelling to Pittsburgh. Essie must have been a great woman if the owner, Syd, decided to name this wonderful place after her. Here’s to you, Essie.

4 weenies

P.S. If you’re reading this and you are Syd and Essie’s child, please let me know. I’d like to meet you. You must be an incredible human being if you have any of the same DNA that those two had. The chosen one. Neo. Anakin. The baby from “Look Who’s Talkin'”. Whatever. Need you in my life.

Cheers

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Steak ‘n Shake Signature

People love surprises. There’s a reason that they plan surprise parties, enjoy scary movies, watch sports, gamble, and listen to Donald Trump. In all situations, it’s impossible to predict what comes next. In my case, it was impossible to predict what happened on this brisk fall evening at Steak ‘n Shake. Sorry, Steak ‘n Shake SignatureMy experience unfolded in three simple steps.

Step 1: “Weenie Malfunction”

Remember how disappointed you were when you found out that you had to pay taxes? Match that with the disappointment I felt when I went to a very famous establishment in NYC for a weenie and the line was out the door. Terrible. It was time for plan B.

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Step 2: “Go to the bench”

I had to salvage this situation somehow. I pulled out my phone, went to Google Maps, and typed in “hot dog” near location. Up pops Steak ‘n Shake. Steak ‘n Shake was a fast food establishment I went to one time in Cleveland. So, I wasn’t expecting much. In fact, I was expecting very little. So, I decided to go bash it. I haven’t bashed in a while, it could be fun. I became a grunting caveman full of emotion. Bashing, anger, destruction, NYWeenies… must… destroy… Steak ‘n Shake.

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Step 3: “Saint Peter works at Steak ‘n Shake”

Then, like bright light in a coffin of darkness, or like Tinkerbell to Peter Pan… no more anger. Show me those pearly gates!!! This most definitely was a Signature Steak ‘n Shake hot dog. I got the classic footlong and it was phenomenal. It comes in this fancy see through sleeve that when unsheathed, reveals glory. The bun is perfectly toasted. The mustard, remarkably, is yellow. As most readers will know, yellow mustard is liquid gold, and without argument the best mustard ever known to mankind. Finally, the sausage is grilled essentially perfectly. The outer edges exhibit some delicate char. Real, nice, delicate, write-home-to-your-family-about, char. Such char on such a dog, equipped with such a well toasted bun, with such a perfectly placed stripe of yellow mustard? This such equation leads such a weenie to be the king of NYC… right?!

Step 4: “An act of violence”

Nope, they cut my weenie in half. Damn it. I can’t crown a king when they perform vicious acts of violence to multiple weenies every day. That’d be like voting for Pol Pot as Surgeon General. So close, Steak ‘n Shake. Please know that I absolutely loved your hot dog, but I cannot crown you king.

4.49 weenies

It’s a weird number, I know. Whatever, who cares about my ratings anyway? At least I didn’t cut it in half.

Cheers

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Danish Dogs

I saw a list today that named Denmark the happiest country in the world. I think it is no coincidence that the happiest country in the world also happens to serve the most hot dogs per capita of any country in the world. Both are true facts, and both make me want to be a Dane. I could be a Great Dane, which is also the biggest dog in the world. We’re talkin’ about extremes here, people. What else is extreme? $8 hot dogs in Grand Central Terminal are pretty “doggone” extreme. Without a doubt, I will use my extremities to grab a few of these extremely unique extreme danish dogs and have myself a Tuesday. Claus Meyer opened this place opened up two weeks ago, and thanks to some great scouting by staff member Mike, we’re off to the races and puttin’ beets on wieners.

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Pictured above are 4 very unique sausages. I’m reminded of the Copenhagen guys who once gave me weenies for free – Copenhagen Street Dog Winter Championship. In fact, these are so unique, that one is chicken, one pork, one beef, and one beef/pork combo. I went for the two on the right, which happened to be beef/pork and beef. As you can tell, I’m a fan of the cow. I am probably not as big of a fan as the Hindu folks though, because I’ll actually eat it, but you know what I mean. I first was able to experience the dog on the farthest right, named the Gravhund. Gravhund is the danish word for Dachsund, the canine we in America usually call the wiener dog. I’m loving the naming system already. This dog is topped with Beet Remoulade, Lingonberry preserve, pickled onions, and crispy shallots (elegant onions). Yes, this sounds like the menu at your grandmother’s old folks home, but it tastes much better. I was instantly wowed by the sweetness combined with the crispy shallots (elegant onions). This is the most unique dog I’ve ever had, and it was amazing. The bun could have been a little more toasted, but the toppings were great and the sausage homemade with some snap. Très bon.

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The next dog was the Great Dane, the dog I was told would be the best. I must say I was disappointed. The mustard was so spicy that I couldn’t taste anything else and there was no need for ketchup. I liked the pickles and onions, but the mustard was too overpowering. The dog itself was also sort of gooey, and not as good as the Gravhund all-beef sausage. Something wasn’t quite working with it, as there was no snap and it seemed like I was eating the meat out of the intestine like play-doh. Sorry for that image. The bun, again, was underwhelming, dry, and not toasted enough. This is probably my biggest complaint with Danish Dogs. You need new buns. My anaconda don’t want none unless you got buns, hun.

The Gravhund saved the day for Danish Dogs, and kept it at a pretty good rating. It is an amazing wiener that you should go try, but I think Danish Dogs still needs a little work if they want people to pay eight bucks for a dog.

3.5 weenies

P.S. I’m pretty sure you could buy a real dog for 8 bucks from, like, the SPCA or something. For the record, I don’t condone eating real dogs. That’s something that should only exist deep in the annals of history. Do people look at pictures of cute baby cows? No, that’s why we eat them. Save the puppies. Kill the cows.

Cheers

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Westville

I didn’t expect to be a hot dog blogger, but once I did it was amazing. I also didn’t expect to get a yo-yo for Christmas, but it has been phenomenal. Even the unexpected crazy homeless man who wets himself and yells “Aunt Delilah get the pie!” can add a good chuckle to your day. The oncoming of the unexpected can often be a scary experience that turns out to be positive. When Westville offered “market vegetables” as a side item, I wanted to turn to stone like a gargoyle and hide from the existence that surrounded me. However, after I ordered artichoke hearts nestled in between two different varieties of hot dogs, the unexpected became the unbelievably delicious. I’d vote for “market vegetables” over Donald Trump any day.

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Y’all thought I couldn’t be healthy, but look at that. There’s more nutrients than you can shake a stick at. There are artichoke hearts on the side, pickles on top, and beans in the chili. I feel like I lost 5 pounds already. Regardless of health, because that’s not what I write about, because that shouldn’t be a factor when it comes to rating hot dogs, there are two types of weenies at Westville. There is the Hebrew National and the Niman Ranch “fearless frank”. Obviously I got both. The waiter had no idea what the best way to eat their dogs was, so I opted to leave the chili off of the Niman Ranch wiener to ensure I was able to observe the full breadth of its flavor. As for the Hebrew National, it was doused in chili and cheese. For two high quality dogs and a side, the price is 14 bucks, and the choice of toppings and sides is impressive. While the place is tiny, its very charming and could easily be a date spot. I also saw the other food choices, and everything looks really good, I will definitely be back, but who knows if I will be able to resist the hot dogs.

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Pictured above is the Hebrew National with chili and cheese, adorned with a kosher dill slice. The chili isn’t very spicy, but it is homemade and would look great just about anywhere, on anything or in anything, kind of like Taylor Swift. The cheese is thicker than most hot dog cheese, is slightly melted, and rich in flavor. This is the best cheese I’ve had on any hot dog so far. The bun is literally grilled. There are grill marks. That fact alone earns this place a lot of respect for me. A Hebrew National emerges from inside of it. This is a big beefy boy with a nice smoky flavor that I think is brought out from the way it is grilled. This truly is an old school grilled dog, like Wilt Chamberlain is to basketball or Grandmaster Flash is to hip hop. Kate Moss to modeling? Either way, superb.

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The fearless frank. The beefiest sausage this side of 6th avenue. I think on the Niman Ranch they take the filet mignon, ground it up, and stuff it inside of pig intestines to make hot dogs that they call fearless franks. This is a high quality, organic-y dog that I can get behind. My only complaint, and the only real reason this dog isn’t getting a stellar rating is that it has absolutely no snap. It’s as if there is no casing. I don’t know how they did it. Also, they had a yellow mustard bottle with spicy brown mustard in it. That’s perhaps the worst tease in the game. The only thing worse would involve putting a vegan dog in front of me without telling me. No sin could be worse than that. Luckily, they didn’t do that to me, and I really enjoyed their wieners. Go to Westville.

4 weenies

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Cheers

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Burger King

Somebody’s gotta do it. That’s right, you didn’t read that wrong, I am reviewing the semi-new Burger King grilled dogs. Quite honestly, I tried to go the week they started serving these classic American delicacies, but the BK Lounge in the east village was unfortunately not open at 3 AM. The store I went to today, however, would have been open late since it is open 24 hours and located in the sphincter of the city at 42nd and 8th Avenue: Port Authority. There was not a single person in the “restaurant” that I would not consider unsightly. I used the double negative with purpose there. Everyone was gross. It was like a cross between the TV shows Mike and Molly and The Walking Dead in there. But somehow I made my way to the “alter of obesity”, a.k.a. the place where you order at Burger King, and ordered some weenies. Hopefully I can walk later. ‘Murica.

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Behold: the classic and the chili cheese dog. It’s no wonder that Burger King uses fake food for their promo photos, because these quite frankly look like garbage. The guy who prepared my weenies certainly did not have much enthusiasm, care, or sense of decency as he piled toppings on my “grilled” dog. The relish formed a lake something like the dead sea, and the mustard, while yellow, only got to one side of the dog like a fat kid on a see saw. BK’s choice of classic toppings wasn’t bad, though. I would have left out the onions, but you can’t go wrong with mustard, relish, and ketchup. Oh, I forgot to include the fact that one tip of the classic dog was actually black. Wiz Khalifa probably would have liked this one. Black and yellow, black and yellow.

Pictured to the left, the classic, and the to the right, the chili cheese. If you take a close look at the bottom right corner of the chili cheese you can see the fully nude “grilled” dog. This is where everything falls apart. There is no flavor, the char marks look fake, and some of the inside of the sausage is gray, like salmon after you put it in the microwave. There is no snap, no flavor, and no dignity. It’s one of the most disgusting sausages I’ve ever eaten. The bun isn’t toasted, but it is heated somehow… I think. Never mind, the entire hot dog was lukewarm. This wouldn’t have been a good meal for a stray cat. If I gave this to a homeless man he’d just ask for more crack. I really wanted more out of Burger King. I enjoy their whoppers and fries, but something went horribly wrong here. There was, however, one saving grace. The chili on the chili cheese dog was pretty good. It had some spice, was the warmest part of the sandwich, and even had some hearty beans to toot. (I meant toot, not boot.) If it weren’t for the chili on the chili cheese, this would be the worst dog I have reviewed. However, Burger King thanks you, dearest chili, for you have saved it. Katz’s Delicatessen is still the worst dog in the city. Embarrassing. Meg Ryan is pissed.

1.75 weenies

Ugh. Goo. Ew. Don’t eat them. My stomach has a rubber brick inside of it that was once a hot dog. It’s as if I microwaved an old plunger and dunked it in a pool of old warm relish. If they sold their chili in a can, though… sign me up.

Cheers

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Lucky’s

Red and yellow has never been a good color combination. Its simply too much – too harsh. Who in their right mind would put red and yellow right next to each other? McDonald’s owns that color combination. Someone in marketing decided that was a good idea? Is it supposed to be subliminal messaging? Add the eating smiley face to the mix and it feels like you’re in one of James Bond’s evil villain’s Chinese torture chamber. Quite honestly, the bright colors kept me away from this place, although I’ve seen them all over the city. Then I found out they had hot dogs.

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Not only do they serve hot dogs, but they serve the “Chili Cheese Dog Supreme.” Let me describe how epic of a name that is. They took four of my favorite words, put them in a row, and used them to describe something to eat, which is my favorite thing to do. Why did I ever doubt this place? The weenie came out quickly, piping hot, and the staff was very friendly. The creepy yellow smiley face lights that made up 60 percent of the surface area of the ceiling were definitely not my favorite, but I let it slide once this glorious weenie came into view.

Upon first bite, the first thing I notice is the cheese. This is thick, melted, nacho cheese. It is a little richer than the melted Kraft singles I’ve enjoyed before, and I’m totally OK with it. It goes together quite nicely with the chili all over the dog. In fact, it is nestled within the dog because the dog split in half. Poor dog. Normally, I’m not a split in half kind of guy but in this case there is so much chili and cheese its almost necessary to keep the slop within the bounds of the bun. I shouldn’t call the chili slop – that sounds like something in a pig trough. This chili is a stew of beefy goodness only kings should have access to. If they sold this in cans, my pantry would have already collapsed from the weight of the copious amounts of chili I would buy. If I had an Jewish friend who chose to break Kosher rules one time in his life, I would feed him this chili. Oh, they put some onions on it, too.

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The bun is supportive of its contents, thick, and well-toasted. I’m about 84% sure it is a potato roll, but for some reason I can’t tell because the whole room is yellow from the ceiling lights. I know the frank is a Hebrew National, because it is advertised as such. It is an average sausage, and cutting it in half does always eliminate the snap. However, no snap here is not a problem because the focus was totally on the chili and cheese. I kind of wish there was no onion, but it didn’t hurt the overall taste at all because the chili was so on point. Lucky’s advertises the chili as Angus, so I can infer that it is imported. As an importer/exporter, I can respect the decision to import from Texas here. Hook ’em horns.

3.75 weenies

What just happened? Three quarters of a weenie? That’s right folks, I was so torn here that I brought in the quarter weenie. Behold a revolution. Trust me, it will help in the future when there’s 100 of these reviews, I make a list of the best weenies in NYC, and take over the world. Too much?

Cheers

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The Rusty Knot

This review took me to the annals of the west village, on the water where the Pirates gather to discuss their recently discovered booty. I was nautically inspired, and drank a Montauk ale among the seamen. Ahoy, indeed, mates. Then, I realized two very important things. First, that it is very easy to make crude pirate jokes. Second, that a knot physically cannot rust. A knot is usually made of rope, which is not a metal, meaning that it cannot oxidize. Without oxidation, there can be no rust. Similarly, without a good bun, there can be no good hot dog. Enter the Rusty Knot and the pretzel dog.

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When I read about the pretzel dog I was very excited. Pretzels are generally quite good, and pretzel dough is fat and excellent. Hot dogs are obviously also fat and excellent, so when you mix two fat and excellent things you get a double fat and excellent sandwich. Salt is also a great component of a pretzel which could go well with the savory hot dog flavor. However, the end result of this creation was not how it was supposed to be.

The number one rule of wrapping a pretzel around a hot dog is to ensure that the pretzel is soft. This pretzel was crunchy on the outside, like a stale popcorn shrimp. Even worse, think of a hunk of cheese that sat out overnight and you accidentally bit into it without realizing it. That’s some next level imagery. The number two rule of wrapping a pretzel around a hot dog is to keep it on the hot dog. This one fell off and moved like a hybrid slinky-accordion. If I put this on the top if the stairs, it would gracefully slink down the stairs to the tune of “Play that Funky Music White Boy” because apparently that is a song that is commonly played on the accordion. Then, the hot dog itself wasn’t cooked enough and had nary a snap. As Boomer says on Monday Night… c’mon man. Overall, the pretzel idea was poorly executed.

In the above artsy, tiled, picture gallery contraption you can see the accordion figure of the pretzel a little better. You can also see a few positive things. You can order a pickle for 2 bucks. That’s phenomenal. There is guacamole in play. Stellar. Then, there is yellow mustard dipping sauce. This is the only thing that saved this dog from being absolutely demolished in the ratings.

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Quite honestly I feel bad that this is the lowest dog ranked yet. I enjoyed the bar and the experience overall. I even took this guy I met on the street from Arkansas there because I thought it would be good. I would go to the bar again for certain. They have a pool table, and a campy nautical vibe that is very appealing. There’s a real fish tank! Regardless, (and not irregardless, that’s not a word so stop saying it America), it wasn’t a good hot dog and that’s just a fact.

Cheers

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