Travel for Pennies

The frank, the dog, the weenie, the frankfurter…the hotdog.  This is subject of the quest that I was asked to take with my father.  He had recently retired from the Phoenix Police Force.  After 20 years of patrolling South Phoenix, and another ten years as a detective working with stolen cars, he wanted to take it easy, but not do nothing.  So he bought a hotdog cart.  He told me that he wanted me to come with him to New York City, the home of the “best hotdogs in the world” he said, recalling a story when he was 7 and had the best dog of his life on Coney Island.

This was a “research trip” to find the best hotdogs and bring them back to Phoenix to sell from his new hotdog stand. I told him I would go, but that the hotdogs must be strictly daytime fare.  At night I wanted to go to the nice restaurants of the city, I wanted to experience the variety of cuisine, made by some of the top chefs.  He agreed.  I found my list of my desired nighttime destinations at this site, and we were on our way.  On the plane ride he began to tell me the history of the hotdog.  He said they come in all sizes, from the large frankfurter to the tiny cocktail weenie.  This I knew as one of my grandmother’s favorite holiday dishes was the BBQ cocktail weenie delight.

My father went on to tell me the statistics, that most hotdogs in the United States are eaten between the months of May and September, “a summer time treat” he said.  He noticed that my eyes had begun to cross, as too much information about something like hotdogs just kind of tended to scramble my brain.  This is when he pulled out ancient Greek mythology, and informed me that hotdogs were basically a sausage, and were mentioned in Homer’s Odyssey.

Pushcart hotdog sales became popular with the German immigrants in the city of New York during the late 1800′s and to this day the lines at lunch time, in the carts from 5th Avenue, to Brooklyn, to those outside the Metropolitan Museum of Art stand testament to the time trial of the love of the hotdog.

I loved traveling through the city with my father, and enjoyed his stories along the way, but I must say that each night I looked forward to a sit down meal in one of the lovely restaurants the city has to offer.  He did bring home the world’s best hotdog, and each day at lunch, hungry Phoenicians line up to buy one of my father’s dogs, and to listen to his stories while they take their lunch breaks.

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