When buddies come to town, my whirlwind tour generally consists of the Triple Rock, the Wienery, any south Minneapolis haunt within stumbling distance of my place, i.e. the Hexagon (pretty much just the Hexagon, actually), the occasional sporting event, and often a skate park. So pardon me, dear guests of the future, if we're not making it to the Walker for a career retrospective of some post-modern video artist who's filmed himself gurgling a raw egg and spitting it out every morning for the past ten years. The Russian Art Museum is a whole different story though, we can go there.
This is either a stock photo from a youth shelter annual report or my pals Chresten and Stan waiting for their hot dogs.
Drive in Fries at the Wienery are second to none. Huge grease soaked spud strips topped with homemade chili (not that spicy unless you ask for it) and their own coleslaw. All killer, no filler.
The Mexicali is on the left and it consists of onions, cheese, baked beans, and sport peppers. The peppers were quite sporty, too. Had a whole lot of spunk too them. I'm not sure if the one on the right had a name or it's newer on the menu but it had tomato, mayo, pickle, lettuce, and mustard.
Here you will find Stan's Chicago and other dog I can't remember the name of. The journalistic standards of the this blog are really slipping. My apologies.
Hot dog eaters of the world unite and take over.