nothing speaks to me like quite like the american hot dog. meat of indeterminate origin nestled in a soft bun so pumped full of chemicals it won’t start to mould until you notice it still packaged in the back of your cupboard two months later.
when i was a child i was in awe of the hot dog vendor peddling his wares from street corners. in new zealand we have something called a sausage sizzle, which is NOT the same. these often take place outside of a hardware store, cost a gold coin, and are typically a fundraiser. did i care about charity as a child? no! i cared about the fact that this was a different kind of sausage wrapped in a slice of white bread and drizzled with tomato sauce. i thought this was an absolute disgrace, and a mockery to the profession of hot dog making. i wanted a frankfurter in a bun, slathered with ketchup and mustard, paid for with a crumpled up $1 bill.
long live the american hot dog. though i’m a vegetarian now so it’s not quite the same.
