Thursday, July 28, 2011

"What The Fuck Kinda Question Is That?"

This story is a stop on my latest travels which took me back to Chicago and then on to San Francisco. Two of my favorite cities where I put down a multitude of pork related items. I'll break this globe trot into a coupla posts.

Let me start by saying "God Bless The Wiener's Circle." It's not because I had a staggeringly great dog, or that it had some kind of glorious dining space. It was because that's how they answered my question.

Back up to 12 in the AM and buddies Farley Bookout, Steve Walters, Jay Ryan and Bobby Dixon and myself are leaving Pitchfork and heading home. I says "we should get a dog." Farley says "Again?" So I whipped out my trusty internet portal and looked up hot dog joints. Lookee there, The Wiener's Circle is on the way. Jay says "Call and see if they are open"

Ring, Ring:

WC: "Yeah"
Me: "Hi, what time do you close?"
WC: "What The Fuck Kinda Question Is That?" "5AM Motherfucker!" "Fuck You Bitch!" *click*
Me: "We're going to The Wiener's Circle."

As soon as I got off the phone it dawned on me where we were heading. The hot dog place most famous for cussin' your ass for anything and nothing. At midnight it was pretty packed but they were moving people through the line quicklike. I stepped up ready to order a red hot and a double char wondering if I'd get cussed. "Which char motherfucker?" I got cussed, again. I got off way easier than the gal behind me who tried to pay with a credit card. "Cash only bitch! Cash only motherfucker!" as they shooed her away from the window flappin' a towel. That's also all the time they needed to toss my order in the window zippity-doo.

A Vienna red hot and a double chardog with the works:

This was on the counter. You bet your sweet ass I put money towards the cause.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

'Merica Dogs.

Let me start this post by saying it's a damn crying shame that my good buddy Josh Kaulius hasn't graced the pages of Buddies & Hotdogs yet. The dude is a prime candidate for the Meat Sweat Hall of Fame. I've seen this guy curl up on a barroom bathroom floor after going into some weird esophagus shock caused by eating too many hot wings. He was escorted out of the place and sent directly to the hospital. Now that's commitment.

On the 4th of July, Josh and I got together for a little lonely, sad dude pity party. We cured our our ills by way of grills. We stuffed our faces and drank the blues away with a hand selected assortment of high-octane IPA's. We laughed. We watched a few episodes of Pawn Stars. We made fun of people. We listened to Outlaw Country. It was a real, real nice day. 'Merican style.

Here's Josh making a mockery of the all-beef frank. He puts ketchup on his. Gross. **Editor's Note: Josh claims this wasn't ketchup, but rather BBQ sauce, sriracha, or some chipotle tabasco type sauce. His credibility has since been restored.

A nice little close-up.

The bountiful harvest includes terriyaki marinated pork loin (personal recipe), steak filets, shrimp and bacon wrapped jalapeno skewers (personal recipe), and some delicious all-beef dogs that didn't make it into this picture. 'Merica. Fuck yeah.