You Either Love Hot Dogs…Or You are a Communist

 

Superdawg
6363 N. Milwaukee Ave.
Chicago, IL





Some people don’t get my enthusiasm for hot dogs.

But if you don’t get excited about a trip to Chicago’s famous Superdawg…

…well…

…you just might want to consider the possibility that you are a Communist sympathizer.

How can you not love that legendary anatomical meat tube couple dressed in leopard skin and mini skirt perched high above Superdawg looking out over the corner of Milwaukee and Devon?

I get a flutter in my stomach reminiscent of my first childhood encounter with Mickey Mouse at Disney World when I round the corner in my rental car and catch a glimpse of Maurie and Flaurie mounted of the Superdawg roof.

The creepy red glow in Maurie’s eyes means my stomach is in for a treat unlike any other on Earth.

Chicago’s love affair with hot dogs and sausages can be traced back to the immigrants from Central and Eastern Europe who settled in the Windy City.

Superdawg is the quintessential hot dog joint in the quintessential hot dog city.

And an idyllic retreat on the way to that hell otherwise known as O’Hare International Airport.

Packaged in delightful red and blue boxes featuring whimsical bits of wisdom from Maurie such as “Your Superdawg lounges inside” and “From the bottom of my pure beef heart...thanks for giving me this chance to serve you…”

…the anticipation is almost unbearable as the old fashioned car hop delivers the tray of food to my rental car window.

While the convenience of rental car side service is appreciated, trying to keep the pile of condiments off of my suit proves more than a bit challenging.

In Chicago, folks like their dogs “dragged through the garden” meaning topped with an unwieldy combination of mustard, peppers, onions, tomatoes and pickles.

Fortunately the tray of food included a generous supply of napkins which I used to construct a paper barrier between my mountain of meat and produce and my Brook Brothers tie.

The hot dog was an extra thick juicy tube of beef enhanced by the tang and spice of the onions and sport peppers and balanced with the sweet neon green relish.

This is the quintessential Chicago dog.

Tightly packed into the box with the hot dog comes a mound of crinkle cut fries -- a convenient vehicle to soak up all the scattered condiments spilling all over my Chevy Impala.

Not being a huge fan of French fries, I opted also for an order of “Superonionchips”, a towering red box of fried onion petals.

Too much bread. Not enough onion. Probably won’t order those again.

But I saved the best for last.

Whoopskidawg!

Oh. Yeah.

Thanks to the large number of folks of Polish descent who settled in the Windy City, Chicago is something of a hub for good Polish Sausage.

The Whoopskidawg just might be the most delicious version I’ve ever tasted.

Smothered in diced onion and tangy sweet BBQ sauce and nestled in a top notch onion roll, the Whoopskidawg is even more exciting than the Superdawg…

…as difficult as that is to conceive.

Smokey and sweet simultaneously, my Whoopskidawg just might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted in a city known for world class junk food.

And I don’t think it is a coincidence that one of the most exquisite sausages on earth is named after a country that suffered more than its share from Socialist dictators.

First Poland bore the brunt of the Nazis -- and then the Soviets.

But neither Hitler nor Stalin could snuff out the popularity of a top notch tube of processed meat.

Of course none of this history has stopped Chicago native Michelle Obama from attempting to eradicate hot dogs from America’s school cafeterias.

So say what you will about Suit757’s love affair with hot dogs, Polish sausages and chopped up pig and cow parts.

I’m on the side of the long-suffering, freedom-loving people of Poland.

Whose side are you on?

Rating: Bought the Shirt!