A FRANK ACCOUNT-Where to get a good hot dog in New York (NY PRESS)
New York is a hot dog town. According to the National Hot Dog and Sausage Council, New York spends more on hot dogs than any other city. And that figure doesn’t even take into account the plethora of sidewalk vendors and indoor hot dog establishments that dot the streets. But how does one separate the rubbery, tepid disappointments from the snappy and savory masterpieces? I figured that the answer couldn’t be more than fifteen hot dogs away. And so, nitrates be damned, I devoted an entire weekend to finding the perfect hot dog.
My first stop was Crif Dogs, the nouveau-dog emporium in the East Village. I ordered their four most outlandish dogs: the Chihuahua, a bacon-wrapped dog covered with avocadoes and sour cream; the Tsunami, a dog, wrapped with bacon and topped with teriyaki sauce, canned pineapple bits and diced green onions; the Good Morning, a bacon-wrapped frank smothered with melted cheese and nestled in a fried egg; and a Sourcheese dog, a dog served with thinly sliced half-sour pickles and melted cheese.
“Hell, yeah,” said my waitress.
The Good Morning dog was a revelation—the best breakfast sandwich ever. The bacon was crisp and flavorful, the hot dog was meaty and not too salty and the slightly runny yolk and melted cheese melded together perfectly. The Tsunami was a close runner up. The salty bacon mixed with the sweetness of the pineapple, the tanginess of the teriyaki and the onion bouquet of the scallions made for a unique and interesting flavor combination. The Chihuahua, with its bacon, avocado and sour cream, was just a bit too mushy, and the Sourcheese, with its pickles and melted cheese, just too ordinary. But overall, Crif Dogs’s signature hot dog—a deep-fried frank made from a mixture of pork and beef—was pleasantly sweet and mild in its flavor, and the bacon-wrapped dog was possibly the best thing I’ve ever eaten.
Though I was pretty stuffed, I walked over to Dawgs on Park to try “The Mexican,” a hot dog topped with Chipotle mayo, Jalapeno relish and bacon. I could have easily skipped it. The whole thing was a greasy, salty mess. And, it was five dollars. Any hot dog that costs five dollars better be made by God himself.
Later that day, I went uptown to the Papaya King, that old standby that’s always as crowded as Grand Central at rush hour. I stood at the counter by the window, elbow to elbow with my fellow hot dog lovers, and gobbled my hot dog right down. The meat was nicely charred, not in the least bit greasy, and its taste was fresh and pleasantly salty. The toppings were also fresh and flavorful—not gooey in the least. It was the Honda of hot dogs—dependable, but not particularly exciting.
The next night I headed down to the Lower East Side—the location of several new boutique-style hot dog establishments. First I tried Broome Doggs, Harry Hawk (of Schnack fame)’s newest endeavor. I ordered their Black Angus Beef Dog. I asked the guy behind the counter how it was different from an ordinary hot dog.
“It’s like the difference between an Outback Steakhouse steak and a Ruth’s Chris steak,” he said.
“Does that mean you can you taste the difference between the two hot dogs?” I asked.
“Definitely,” he said. “If you do a Pepsi challenge and taste them side by side, the Black Angus tastes meatier, more beefy.”
I took a bite of my Black Angus Beef Dog, and frankly, I couldn’t taste the difference, though it did taste saltier than I would have liked.
I topped my dog with some of the many condiments laid out in bowls on a counter against the wall. They included the basics—ketchup, several mustards, relish, barbecue sauce—and a few more unusual ones like pineapple relish and potato-chip dust. There was also a dish of sad, cold, stringy sauerkraut.
I then walked over to Dash Dogs, a new take-out establishment catering to the late-night bar crowd. I ordered my hot dogs with avocado salsa, cilantro salsa and corn relish. The freshness of the toppings were a nice foil to the smoky hot dog. The salsas were a bit too chilly, however, and the extreme temperature contrast was unpleasant.
And then I went to Katz’s, the epicenter of the old-school frank. From the moment I walked in, the long, cavernous, crowded room seemed cheerful and inviting. The hot dog was steaming hot, as was the sauerkraut, and it snapped like a hot dog should snap. It was the first hot dog I tried to do so. The outside was just a bit blackened and the meat was juicy and flavorful. The sauerkraut was perfectly sour with a good bite. Finally, I had found the perfect hot dog in its most classic incarnation.
Crif Dogs—113 St. Mark’s Place,
212-614-2728
Dawgs on Park—178 E. 7th St.,
212-598-0667
Papaya King—179 E. 86th St.,
212-369-0648
Broome Doggs—250 Broome St.,
917-453-6013
Dash Dogs—127 Rivington St.,
212-254-8885
Katz’s Delicatessen—205 E. Houston St.,
212-254-2246
My first stop was Crif Dogs, the nouveau-dog emporium in the East Village. I ordered their four most outlandish dogs: the Chihuahua, a bacon-wrapped dog covered with avocadoes and sour cream; the Tsunami, a dog, wrapped with bacon and topped with teriyaki sauce, canned pineapple bits and diced green onions; the Good Morning, a bacon-wrapped frank smothered with melted cheese and nestled in a fried egg; and a Sourcheese dog, a dog served with thinly sliced half-sour pickles and melted cheese.
“Hell, yeah,” said my waitress.
The Good Morning dog was a revelation—the best breakfast sandwich ever. The bacon was crisp and flavorful, the hot dog was meaty and not too salty and the slightly runny yolk and melted cheese melded together perfectly. The Tsunami was a close runner up. The salty bacon mixed with the sweetness of the pineapple, the tanginess of the teriyaki and the onion bouquet of the scallions made for a unique and interesting flavor combination. The Chihuahua, with its bacon, avocado and sour cream, was just a bit too mushy, and the Sourcheese, with its pickles and melted cheese, just too ordinary. But overall, Crif Dogs’s signature hot dog—a deep-fried frank made from a mixture of pork and beef—was pleasantly sweet and mild in its flavor, and the bacon-wrapped dog was possibly the best thing I’ve ever eaten.
Though I was pretty stuffed, I walked over to Dawgs on Park to try “The Mexican,” a hot dog topped with Chipotle mayo, Jalapeno relish and bacon. I could have easily skipped it. The whole thing was a greasy, salty mess. And, it was five dollars. Any hot dog that costs five dollars better be made by God himself.
Later that day, I went uptown to the Papaya King, that old standby that’s always as crowded as Grand Central at rush hour. I stood at the counter by the window, elbow to elbow with my fellow hot dog lovers, and gobbled my hot dog right down. The meat was nicely charred, not in the least bit greasy, and its taste was fresh and pleasantly salty. The toppings were also fresh and flavorful—not gooey in the least. It was the Honda of hot dogs—dependable, but not particularly exciting.
The next night I headed down to the Lower East Side—the location of several new boutique-style hot dog establishments. First I tried Broome Doggs, Harry Hawk (of Schnack fame)’s newest endeavor. I ordered their Black Angus Beef Dog. I asked the guy behind the counter how it was different from an ordinary hot dog.
“It’s like the difference between an Outback Steakhouse steak and a Ruth’s Chris steak,” he said.
“Does that mean you can you taste the difference between the two hot dogs?” I asked.
“Definitely,” he said. “If you do a Pepsi challenge and taste them side by side, the Black Angus tastes meatier, more beefy.”
I took a bite of my Black Angus Beef Dog, and frankly, I couldn’t taste the difference, though it did taste saltier than I would have liked.
I topped my dog with some of the many condiments laid out in bowls on a counter against the wall. They included the basics—ketchup, several mustards, relish, barbecue sauce—and a few more unusual ones like pineapple relish and potato-chip dust. There was also a dish of sad, cold, stringy sauerkraut.
I then walked over to Dash Dogs, a new take-out establishment catering to the late-night bar crowd. I ordered my hot dogs with avocado salsa, cilantro salsa and corn relish. The freshness of the toppings were a nice foil to the smoky hot dog. The salsas were a bit too chilly, however, and the extreme temperature contrast was unpleasant.
And then I went to Katz’s, the epicenter of the old-school frank. From the moment I walked in, the long, cavernous, crowded room seemed cheerful and inviting. The hot dog was steaming hot, as was the sauerkraut, and it snapped like a hot dog should snap. It was the first hot dog I tried to do so. The outside was just a bit blackened and the meat was juicy and flavorful. The sauerkraut was perfectly sour with a good bite. Finally, I had found the perfect hot dog in its most classic incarnation.
Crif Dogs—113 St. Mark’s Place,
212-614-2728
Dawgs on Park—178 E. 7th St.,
212-598-0667
Papaya King—179 E. 86th St.,
212-369-0648
Broome Doggs—250 Broome St.,
917-453-6013
Dash Dogs—127 Rivington St.,
212-254-8885
Katz’s Delicatessen—205 E. Houston St.,
212-254-2246
posted by Lisa Gross at 6:24 PM
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