The Humble Hot Dog Revisited

A few months ago, I asked an important question.

Is the hot dog the lunch version of oatmeal?

After careful consideration, additional research, and the consumption of more hot dogs than was probably necessary to reach a scientifically valid conclusion, I still believe the answer is yes.

But I may have underestimated the hot dog.

In the original discussion, my argument was that oatmeal and hot dogs have something important in common: neither one is really about the base. Plain oatmeal is just oatmeal. A plain hot dog is just a hot dog. The magic happens when the fixings arrive.

Brown sugar, honey, coconut, blueberries, strawberries, raisins, and cranberries can turn oatmeal into breakfast.

Mustard, ketchup, onions, relish, chili sauce, pickles, cheese, sauerkraut, peppers, and jalapeños can turn a hot dog into lunch.

The base is merely the delivery system.

I still stand by that.

But the more I think about the humble hot dog, the more I realize I may have been unfair to it.

Because a hot dog can do something oatmeal cannot.

It can travel.

That changes everything.

Oatmeal is generally a sit-down operation. You need a bowl. You need a spoon. You need hot water or milk. There are logistics involved.

The hot dog asks for almost nothing.

Give it a bun and it becomes a self-contained meal with its own handle.

That is brilliant.

It can be eaten at a picnic table, around a campfire, at a baseball game, at a roadside stand, standing next to the van, or sitting in a folding chair somewhere with a view.

No plate is strictly necessary.

A fork would be suspicious.

And the toppings are still where things get interesting.

The humble hot dog can go in almost any direction you want.

Mustard and onions keep things simple.

Chili and cheese turn it into something requiring a little more commitment.

Sauerkraut takes you one direction. Jalapeños take you another. Pickles add crunch. Relish adds sweetness (unless it’s dill), Peppers bring some heat.

Then there are the regional versions.

People become remarkably passionate about what should and should not be placed on a hot dog. There are cities with rules. There are traditions. There are combinations that people will defend with the seriousness normally reserved for politics, religion, and whether you are allowed to park overnight at Walmart.

And then there is ketchup.

Apparently, putting ketchup on a hot dog is controversial #TRUTH.

If you want ketchup, put ketchup on it.

It is your hot dog.

This may actually be the greatest lesson of the humble hot dog.

There is no single correct version.

The best hot dog is the one built the way you like it.

Maybe that is mustard and onions.

Maybe it is chili, cheese, and jalapeños.

Maybe it is ketchup, sweet relish, and pickles.

Maybe it is "The Slaw” dog - yes I want to try this!

You open the refrigerator, look at what is available, and make a decision that would horrify the citizens of Chicago.

That is between you and your hot dog.

And perhaps that is why I keep coming back to this particular food.

The hot dog is cheap.

It is simple.

It is portable.

It is difficult to ruin.

It requires almost no cleanup.

So I am revisiting my original conclusion.

Is the hot dog the lunch version of oatmeal?

Yes.

But I think the hot dog deserves a little more credit than that.

Oatmeal gives you a blank canvas in a bowl.

The hot dog gives you a blank canvas you can eat with one hand.

And when you are sitting outside the van somewhere, looking at a good view with a loaded hot dog in one hand and a cold drink in the other, that feels less like humble food and more like somebody figured out the system.