Shake Shack

There are two things in life that I have dreamt about, yet hadn’t done before this review. They are: eat cake by the ocean, and eat at Shake Shack. One of these has been accomplished in the last 24 hours. Unfortunately, no, I did not eat cake by the ocean (sorry Joe Jonas). I am very happy, however, that my first time at Shake Shack I was there to eat a hot dog and not a burger. I’m also very happy that everything about Shake Shack was better than expected. I went in thinking I was going to have a touristy, commercial, type of vibe. In the restaurant, everything changed. I came out stuffed, with both a cheese stain and a mustard stain on my shirt. That, my friends, is how life should be.


The Shack-Meister. That is exactly what a hot dog should be called, because I want my sausage to sound like my college frat buddy who partied the hardest. Ooooh, the Shack-meister, look at him gooo, chug a beer, he’s the Shack-meister. Besides its already epic name, it apparently is the most popular dog on the menu and according to the man behind the counter “made them famous”. This is a very unique dog. It’s the first I’ve reviewed that is split open. It is also the first I’ve reviewed with fried shallots (elegant onions). But, most importantly, it is the first I’ve reviewed with cheese. Poured in the crevasse of the weenie is a delicious cheese that tastes like 7 Kraft singles melted and condensed like Campbell’s soup. It is glorious. For some reason it reminds me of molten steel being poured in the forges of the industrial age. I’m basically Andrew Carnegie building America one weenie at a time, pouring my molten steel on wieners across the nation.


The bun is of the potato variety. It’s dense and yellow, well toasted, and compliments the rich flavors of the toppings well. The sausage is maybe my least favorite part of the dog. There is no char, no snap, and the split open presentation helps with the cheese, but takes away from overall enjoyment. It does have a nice smoky flavor, however, which works well with everything else. The crispy fried scallions (elegant onions) add a nice crunch and appearance. Every element of the hot dog compliments each other in a different way, combining for a delightfully rich and savory experience. This dog is not to be laughed at. Don’t mess with the Shack-Meister, he’ll steal your girlfriend.

4 weenies


Oh my goodness I totally forgot. Shake Shack has yellow mustard everywhere. It’s on tap, it’s in packets, it’s underneath the chairs, and it oozes from the light fixtures. Y’all know how I feel about my yellow mustard. It is incredibly refreshing and completely correct that spicy brown is not in the entire restaurant. Thank you, Shake Shack, may the tides forever be in your favor.


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Ditch Plains

At one point in our lives we were all children. At that same point in our lives we all loved Macaroni and Cheese. Well, I am still at that point in my life, and let me tell you… I’ve got the blues. Kraft Mac-a-roni and Cheeeese. I love Mac n’ Cheese! If you don’t, I question your existence as a human being. The only excuse you may have is lactose intolerance. Even then, fight through and attack the mac. Squeeze the cheese. Put your nose in the elbows. Feel the steam from the cream. Be daft with the Kraft. Eat yo’ Mac n’ Cheese, y’all. It’s pretty simple. Even better, put it on a hot dog. Luckily, the folks at Ditch Plains accomplished just that.


Yes, that is real. The Ditch Dog at Ditch Plains. This is a great spot. Located in the West Village, it has a very chill vibe, plenty of good beers on tap, and some great menu options that are pretty affordable. They also have a nice selection of hot dogs, which is obviously what I got excited about. Without much hesitation, the bartender referred me to the Ditch Dog because that is what “put them on the map.” This dude was right on the money. When it came out to the bar, the image in front of me was something that could rival a Picasso. However, I must warn, if for any reason you don’t like Mac n’ Cheese (as previously stated you would be a moron if this was true), steer clear of this dog. Also, if the frank were plain, I’m not sure how great it would have been. The hot dog itself is a little scrawny and without snap. That is my only criticism. The mac is so creamy and delicious, and almost everything you taste in every bite is the Mac.  It’s honestly just a very creative way to serve Macaroni and Cheese, and I’m completely OK with that. Two great things should be paired with each other to make even greater things. It’s a fact of life. For example: Sonny and Cher, Penn and Teller, Shaq and Kobe, or even reading the newspaper and sitting on the toilet. Why have one when you can have both? Mac n’ Cheese and hot dogs.


Go eat it now. I had to leave another picture to remind you. It’s just too good to leave out. I highly recommend this dog, and was close to giving it the highest rating so far, but I think I was getting emotional or something. I was thinking about Matilda, and my childhood, and the happiness that came with it. Must. Use. Logic. Epic weenie.

4 weenies.

P.S. My thoughts about this recent “meat causes cancer” crap: what doesn’t cause cancer?! Phones, cardboard, satellites, carcinogens, plastic, air, deodorant, and now processed meat?! Give me a break. Apparently processed meat increases your chance of getting cancer by 17%. Most illogical, media guzzling Americans see that number and assume their chance of getting cancer is immediately 17% after they eat one piece of beef. Knock, knock, pudding heads, that 17% means that the 3 or 4 percent chance you already had of getting cancer is now 3.2 or 4.2 percent. Not a big deal. Eat your meat. Science is OK with it. I promise. If you’re going to get cancer it is probably from something else, such as living in this already cancer-prone world. Carcinogens might cause cancer too, a recent study suggested. Long live the meats.

P.P.S. “Load the grill with fatty meats. Put ’em on a bun, and eat eat eat.” – Sinbad

ditch plains


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Katz’s Delicatessen

“Oh. Oh, God. Ohhhh. Oh, yes. Yes. Ohhhhhhhh… yes. God, oh, yes, yes. OHHHH God. OHHHH YES. YES. YES. YES. OH YES! OH GOD YES!” – Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally. That happened in Katz’s Deli! Sorry if my words didn’t exactly match the scene, but if you have any knowledge at all of old movies, you know that scene. The only unfortunate part about it is that she wasn’t talking about her hot dog. Well, I was about to find out if a man like me could have a reaction like that to a hot dog in one of the most famous eateries in New York. By the way, I’ve never been a big Billy Crystal fan. Dat Meg Ryan, doe…


Such a scene. I took the above picture at 8 PM on Sunday. It was jam-packed… and they think they’re so cool because of it. What follows are random sentences to describe the “fame” of this place. Every picture on the wall is of a celebrity that has been there. When you enter the restaurant, you get a ticket. On that ticket is a price that gets written by hand by the servers behind multiple counters. You pay when you are done. There are a lot of neon signs, and half of them don’t work. You are surrounded by tourists. A guy at the door greets you and tries to put on a show. He asks if you’ve been there before and if you know how to order at Katz’s. He told me I looked like a stranger. He even commented on my shirt. HIs shirt was bland and crappy. I will only tolerate such behaviour (feeling British today) for a truly incredible dining experience. How was this experience? Meh. The Gus Frerotte of hot dogs.


I spend a lot of time writing about the restaurant itself instead of the hot dog, because, well, there’s not much to say here. I feel that the best way to review this hot dog is in a stream of conscience form: … Sauerkraut? Nahh, come on, man. OK. Damn them, its not even good ‘kraut. No yellow mustard? Kinda overcooked. Not bad? Bun, eh, kind of like the buns you buy at any store… ever. Frankfurter sign? Dope, I’d hang that in my room… hmmm kind of wrinkly. No snap. A little dry. Flavor is OK. Meh… Meg Ryan? Nice. OK time to leave.

Essentially it was a pretty average hot dog. On the positive side, it was cheap and served very quickly. So, if you’re craving one late night in the East Village by all means go. However, if I were you I probably would steer clear of this place for a hot dog. Maybe they can do sandwiches, but I really didn’t like being told what to do by the dude at the front who “could tell that I hadn’t been there before.” Give me a break, man, I know for a fact that I know my way around weenies better than you.

1.5 weenies.

This has been maybe the most disappointing review yet. This place was supposed to be one of the best according to some websites out there. That’s what sets me apart from the rest. I actually go to the place, and bring you the truth. I’m a modern day Nellie Bly. Joey Pulitzer. Sanjay Gupta. I don’t know, but I’m doin’ it for the people. The weenie fans out there – you guys deserve it. One love.



P.S. Katz’s, your sign game is poor. If you were an animal you’d be a camel. Everyone loves you until they actually meet you, realize you stink, there’s a big gross hump on your back. Also, you look dumb. Yeah.


Gray’s Papaya

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!


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.


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.


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.


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The U.S. Open

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.

IMG_1352(Linen is in…en?)IMG_1353

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.


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.


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Épicerie Boulud

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.


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.



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.


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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.


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Old Town Bar

Ahhhhhhhhh, chili dogs. Chili dogs, chili dogs, chili dogs. That’s right, my friends, the first chili dog I will review as a nyweenie bloggist starts right now. Before I begin, I need to preface this review with some very important information. The placement of chili on a hot dog as a topping is the single greatest thing to ever happen in the realm of food. Yes, mustard is the most important condiment for a hot dog, but that seems like a logical decision. Adding chili to a dog, well, that’s just flat out creative. Add 10 cc’s of creativity with a double dose of meat on a bun, then top it off with a little cheese. I’m pretty sure that is exactly what lies behind St. Peter and his gate. Now, I will try to be as unbiased as possible as I walk you through my experience at Old Town Bar.

Located on 18th street in the Flatiron district, Old Town Bar looks just as it sounds: old. This isn’t a negative usage of the word “old”, though. This place has character. The floors are aged tile, and the bar is marble. With high lofty ceilings, a lot of dark wood, and some chandeliers, I feel like I’m in another era. The beer selection is also wonderful. There is nary a TV in the establishment, and to quote my good friend Mike, “There’s not a single TV in here. This is a bar for drinking.” I order the chili dog, and it is easy to tell that it is a featured item on the menu, as it is in red, and in parentheses “(As featured on Martha Stewart)”. Well, now I’m excited, because if Justin Bieber is cool with getting roasted by Martha Stewart, I am definitely cool with eating a hot dog she recommends.

The weenie comes out, and it looks and smells amazing. Doused in chili, I can’t even see the bun. Quickly I realize that I won’t be able to pick this up and must attack with a fork. The first bite is great. The chili has some nice spice, and the frank is certainly of high quality. There is a nice little layer of shredded cheddar on top that melts just enough to please. On the side, I ordered potato salad which is a refreshing option over the usual fries or no side at all. Eating this dog is a full dining experience. At 11 dollars, this is one of the priciest dogs I’ve had, and it is truly wonderful. However, I can’t even pick it up, which is quite bothersome. It almost seems as if I’m not eating a real hot dog, and that takes away from the experience. We’ve found ourselves in a territory beyond buns, and it just doesn’t feel like home. It sure does make for a good picture, though.


After some intense deliberation, I have finally come to a rating: 3.5 weenies.

This may seem low based on what I wrote previously, but keep in mind that I am rating the hot dog. The experience is certainly a factor, but ultimately I’m looking for the best hot dog in NYC, not the best bar. As far as bars go, I highly recommend Old Town Bar. In fact, I will definitely be back to eat a standard dog and enjoy another craft beer.

Old Boys like old bars. This old boy really liked Old Town Bar.


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Frankie’s Dogs On The Go

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 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.)



P.S. National Hot Dog Day is Thursday… 

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