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You Never Sausage A Thing! -- Why Hot Doug's Is Chicago's Greatest Food Phenomenon

Restaurant Spotlight and Review

Hot Doug's
3324 N. California, Chicago
hotdougs.com
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One of the dictionary definitions of "insanity" is: something utterly foolish or unreasonable. In telling you that on Saturday a friend and I waited in line for 100 minutes--in unseasonably chilly weather--to get a hot dog, I would be hard pressed to plead not guilty to being insane. 

And to admit that the wait was excessively long, as I was expecting it to only be half that time or less, doesn't really go all that far to mitigate the seeming absurdity of queuing up down the block simply to stuff one's gullet with sausages.

Now, as someone with more than enough meat on my buns already, this isn't something I'll be doing every week, and it's hard to even say it was worth it--especially as the line seemed to move particularly slowly compared to prior visits--but I will say this:

Hot Doug's is unlike anywhere else on Earth.

Sure there are hundreds of other hot dog joints around Chicago, and--though any not using Vienna Beef products are second rate--far beyond. And there are even other relatively decent, though considerably lesser Hot Doug's imitators, like Chicago's Dog House on Fullerton and fRedhots & Fries in Glenview, who similarly serve wild game and other exotically concocted sausages, without the excessive waiting.

But there are also several very good reasons Hot Doug's engenders the hardcore devotion that it does. As the mock Magritte adorning the men's room--here's what it's imitating and a second version of sur'meal'ism--attests, this is not a hot dog. It's an experience.

And except for activist vegetarians (although there is a Veggie Dog on the menu) and those with only a half-hour for lunch, there's something for everyone to love.

First, the food.

On the back of Hot Doug's T-shirts--including some cool new ones--is the saying: There are no two finer words in the English language than "encased meats," my friend. And Doug Sohn, a trained chef who opened the current--and only--location at 3324 N. California after an earlier one burned down in 2004, takes his encased meats seriously.

In addition to a variety of humorously-monikered links on the standard menu, every week Hot Doug's features a dozen rotating specialty sausages, including a "Celebrity Sausage" and "The Game of the Week."

On Saturday, I opted for a "Ribeye Steak Sausage with Horseradish-Garlic Cream Sauce and Crispy Fried Onions," as shown above, and a "The Marty Allen" (formerly the Don Rickles), a Thuringer made of beef, pork and garlic, topped with the standard dog condiments, which at Hot Doug's include carmelized onions. My friend Dave got the same two choices, but without any toppings, and we shared a heaping order of "duck fat fries," which are fries cooked in, well, duck fat. (For those who know that I'm allergic to poultry, somehow I didn't drop dead.)

Especially after the long wait made us ravenous, everything tasted fantastic. I've eaten at Hot Doug's probably about ten times now and have tried to sample a variety of sausages, and have never been disappointed. Although I'm not as obsessive about the duck fat fries as others seem to be; they're great, but to me, not better enough than the standard fries to warrant a weekend trip (they're only served on Friday & Saturday) or even the extra expense.

But it's not just the food. 

If you know me, or have read anything else on this blog, you should know how much I love creativity in various forms. Beyond my own blog writing, advertising copywriting, photography, cartooning and more, I spend much of my time enjoying works of theater, art, music, film, television and more. So even more than the food itself, for me the greatest appeal of Hot Doug's is imagination. 

From all the different sausages Doug and his staff conceive, concoct and artfully adorn, to the numerous cheeky decorations throughout the rather compact space, Hot Doug's has clearly taken the venerable Chicago-tradition of neighborhood Vienna Beef hot dog stands and turned it into an art form of the highest order.

Despite the tremendous success, at least as indicated by lines down the block, Doug seems dedicated to doing things his own way rather than succumb to expanding Hot Doug's in a manner that might not be as self-satisfying. While I would prefer not to wait as long, I actually find this bit of iconoclasticness to be quite endearing.

Sohn could obviously move to a larger space, build additional locations or be open more hours than 10:30-4:00 Monday-Saturday, with the whole enterprise frequently shutting down for a week or two at a time. When you think about the common assumptions of capitalism, to not do any of these things is a lot crazier than expecting satisfied patrons to wait in line. Doug is always at the front counter, cheekily greets every customer and even advises dine-in customers to get smaller-sized sodas since there are free refills.

Plus, I've never been to any restaurant where every staff member is as nice as they are at Hot Doug's.

So maybe I won't be waiting in line for hours every weekend, but barring any unforeseen calamities, I'll certainly be back. Not only is Hot Doug's a place that every Chicagoan should know about--I'm grateful to a former colleague who turned me onto it a few years ago--but even more than other local favorites like Al's Italian Beef, Lou Malnati's, Gino's East, great BBQ joints, top steakhouses and super-swanky places like Alinea and Charlie Trotter's, it is the distinct dining experience that I'd most recommend Windy City tourists make a point of discovering.

And compared to flying in from Hong Kong or driving in from Duluth, waiting in line for 100 minutes doesn't seem all that insane.

Spending A Day in Chicago's Past

I love history, not so much in terms of wars or rulers, but in terms of people, how they lived and what they created. I am particularly fascinated by much of Chicago's rich history, and in the past have learned about and/or explored the works of Frank Lloyd Wright and Louis Sullivan, old movie theaters, the Essanay Studios, classic hot dog stands, the Columbian Exposition of 1893, Graceland Cemetery and much else. (I also value the Chicago History Museum, but as I wrote here, feel they greatly need to enhance the modernity of their exhibits).

A couple weeks ago, I noted with interest--via this Tribune article--that it was the 30th anniversary of the Blues Brothers movie. I rewatched the film and also spent some time exploring this website, which is a handy guide to the movie's shooting locations in and around Chicago.

In doing so, I became curious to know more about Chicago's old Maxwell Street Market, which I'd long heard about but had never gone to (although the original marketplace still existed for the first 25 years of my life). Combining what I already knew with what I learned on Wikipedia and by watching an excellent documentary called Cheat You Fair: The Story of Maxwell Street (not even available on Netflix; try your local library), Maxwell Street is one of the Chicago's oldest residential districts. Its famed market existed from the late 1800s until 1994, when expansion of the University of Illinois at Chicago (UIC) displaced the market--according to the documentary, in part because of some shady deals and dubious reasons (i.e. self-interests of those involved).

Though the market still takes place Sundays along Desplaines St., north of Roosevelt Rd., it is but a fraction of what it used to be. Back in the day, it was supposedly a socially vital, inter-racial gathering place where people of myriad statures and backgrounds sold their wares. The market was also the birthplace of Chicago Blues and the "Maxwell Street Polish."

So, motivated as I often am by my taste buds--though in trying to diet I ate nothing else that day--as well as a sense of curiosity, last Thursday, I drove down to visit Jim's Original, said to be where the Maxwell Street Polish (sausage sandwich) was created in 1943. Now located about a block from its original location at Maxwell & Halsted and next to another surviving old Maxwell Street Polish sausage purveyor, Express Grill, Jim's Original remains a blast from the past.

Although both Jim's and Express are surrounded by newfangled UIC buildings and new commercial developments--some with old facades of Maxwell Street buildings affixed to their fronts--the two 24-hour stands, devoid of seating areas, comprise a delightedly utilitarian island in a bourgeois-sea.

And--I say this as a long-time devotee of Polish Sausages throughout Chicago, including my beloved Poochie's in Skokie--I think the Polish at Jim's was the best I ever had. Plus, with a hefty portion of fries that accompany all sandwiches, the Polish was only $3.25! (Monday, July 12, Jim's is having a Founder's day celebration, with Polishes only 75 cents from 2-6pm, but as someone there said, the line will be down the block).

After also grabbing a regular hot dog at Express--it seemed appropriate as I was taking pictures--I drove around the corner and parked momentarily near Maxwell & Halsted just to say I was at the location of the original marketplace (although I've been to the newly developed area before).

Sadly, there really are no remnants of the past in the old location, other than the old building facades and perhaps some sculptures I didn't notice (but later read about).

Continuing my magical history tour, I drove up to Taylor Street, had a Blue Raspberry Italian Lemonade at Mario's (which as the sign says, has been there since 1954), took a photo of my long-loved original location of Al's #1 Italian Beef and drove past the stately St. Ignatius High School and the church with a beautiful tower next to it. 

I then headed southeast, where I was able to drive into the grounds--and even enter the main building--of the South Shore Cultural Center, which used to be the ornate South Shore Country Club, has a still-in-use 9-hole public golf course and is where Barack and Michelle Obama were married in 1992.

But for me, the main draw for the South Shore Cultural Center--which in getting to at 71st & LSD had me the only white face for blocks on end--was that it was used as the Palace Hotel for the final concert in The Blues Brothers (just the exterior, the interior shots were done at the Hollywood Palladium).

But the interior of what is now the Cultural Center is ornate and spectacular in its own right and is home to the Parrot's Cage restaurant, operated by the Washburne Culinary Institute.

I was also able to walk out back and practically right up to the lake.

Finally on my day of exploring some of Chicago's storied--and cinematic--past, I drove to Jackson Park, scene of the Columbian Exposition, aka, The Chicago World's Fair of 1893.

It has always fascinated me that what looked like a huge old Roman city existed in Chicago over 100 years ago and then disappeared (except for the Museum of Science and Industry building, which was the Palace of Fine Arts at the Fair). As I understand it, most of the structures of "The White City" were meant to be temporary, so even if a fire hadn't burned them down in 1894, they likely wouldn't have survived until today.

But in addition to enjoying the MSI and seeing photos and even virtual interpretations of the Columbian Exposition, I also love the beautifully gilded--albeit 1/3 scale--1918 replica of Daniel French's Statue of the Republic (also known as Columbia) that sits in Jackson Park on the former site of the fair's Administration Building (the current statue is atop this post; the original stands across the Grand Basin from the Administration Building in the 1893 World's Fair photo at left).

I wanted to explore a bit more of Jackson Park, including the Wooded Island and the bridge that was used for the Nazi rally scene in the Blues Brothers, but it was getting late and there seemed to be some potentially shady dealings going on in the park's parking lot, so it didn't feel too prudent to be wandering around snapping photos.

But all in all it was a great day (re)discovering part of Chicago's wonderful history and I look forward to similar future excursions.

And of course, having another Polish at Jim's.

Mo and Flo Go No. -- And So?

Quick Serve Restaurant Review

Superdawg
New location in Wheeling, IL
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Superdawg has been a Chicago institution since 1948 when Maurie and Flaurie Berman opened the hot dog stand with car-hop service at the intersection of Milwaukee, Damen and Nagle, adorning the rooftop with super-sized wieners likewise named Maurie and Flaurie.

I have been a big--not surprisingly, too big--Superdawg fan for quite some time, going at least once or twice a year and almost always getting the same thing: a Whoopskidawg (their version of a Polish sausage), which comes with fries, and accompanying it with a pineapple milk shake.

Earlier this year, with the Bermans and their family still in charge, Superdawg opened a new outpost 11.3 miles up Milwaukee Avenue in Wheeling (map).

And today, on a Superdawg Day Afternoon, I visited it for the first time.

The new Superdawg occupies a bigger site than the original, and while retaining car-hop service throughout a vast parking lot, also has considerably more customer space inside an expansive facility.

For whatever reason, unless it's only temporary, the sculptural Maurie and Flaurie do not stand atop the new Superdawg, with their flattened figures only present within the sign and in pictorial form throughout the restaurant. Unless there's some reason why they can't be added, I really think they should.

Although I never minded eating in my car at the original location, and felt it was part of Superdawg's unique old school charm, today I ordered and ate within the restaurant.

There really isn't a ton of seating, unless there's a second level I didn't explore, but it wasn't crowded. I ordered my usual, but beyond the condiments listed on the menu board --

Whoopskidawg® $6.45: Our char-broiled version of a Romanian, Hungarian, Polish sausage; basted in our special sauce, and served on a Whoopskiroll™, with grilled onion and a pickle -- I wanted to add piccalilli to my sandwich. Strangely, this took two servers five minutes to figure out how to write it down on the order pad. 

Because my Whoopskidawg is char-broiled and someone has to make my pineapple shake, I have long been accustomed to waiting awhile for my food at Superdawg. On most visits to the original with my friend Mark, he is usually finished with his entire meal before I get mine. And even in the sparkling, newfangled Wheeling Superdawg, with 62 years of automation available for incorporation, it still took inordinately long for my order. At least three customers who came into the restaurant after me were served before me. 

And when it came, my Whoopskidawg seemingly had the right toppings, but the Whoopskiroll was weirdly smooshed, as you can see at right.

The dog itself tasted really good and so did the fries and shake. Unfortunately, the cup of water I asked for was lukewarm to the point of making me gag. I know it was free, but I spent over $12 on my meal; was a bit of ice too much to ask for?

All in all it wasn't a bad experience, but even within the junk food strata in which Superdawg squarely sits, it was a bit short of its namesake adjective.

If I'm in the neighborhood again and in the right mood, I wouldn't avoid the Wheeling Superdawg, but if you want the true experience, I would suggest sticking with the original.

At least until the new version--which does have fun chairbacks--proves itself a wiener over the test of time.