After taking in a movie in Times Square a few days ago, I was suddenly struck by a desire for that most classic of New York City cuisine: the hot dog. I had visions of a fat, juicy frank, smothered in cheese and dripping chilli. I was near drooling at the thought. New York, Coney Island, Baseball, Times Square, Hot Dogs. They are stream of consciousness free associations central to Gotham; icons of the Apple, core Americana.
One can argue whether this was caused by subliminal advertisements placed in ‘Troy’ by evil global fast food capitalists. Or perhaps it was the recent cable TV ad for ‘Girthy’ hotdogs starring a beer bellied, back yard barbecuing, flag saluting All American character named Frank. Regardless of the source of this sudden desire there was but one problem.
I could not find any. Now this is not to say I canvassed every restaurant and fast food place from 42nd and Broadway to 57th and Broadway. Yes, there were probably one or two street carts selling them, but nowhere could I find a place where you could buy a big, sloppy, messy, dripping ‘dog and sit down to eat it.
As this was merely a sudden urge and not at all like the biological need for essential nutrients (eg. Diet Coke, Guinness, Starbucks Coffee), I gave up the search upon reaching ‘The Moonrock Diner’. Until recently its decor included large photos of the Apollo moon landings. My first ever visit there was for a meeting with a friend who writes extensively on Property Rights in Space. I returned again and again simply because it was cool to sit by a photo of Harrison Schmidt standing by a lunar boulder. I could chortle to myself that I knew the guy in the picture. Think of it as an internalized ego trip.
But enough! I am talking about frankfurters today. As we return to my story we find a burger smoothered in blue cheese has given me temporary amnesia about the apparent endangered species status of Canis Frankfurteris. Only temporary though… we fast forward from Friday to Sunday afternoon.
It was hot and cheerful outside, the streets of Washington Heights filled with multilingual life of a sort I associate with New York more than anywhere else. Nationalities are like sedimentary rocks here. There is an Irish layer; a Jewish layer and a recent heavy wash of Dominican. The day started innocently enough. A few days ago I had spotted ‘hot dogs’ on the wall menu in a tiny bagel and pizza place. As it has an all Hispanic staff, I had to overcome the language barrier to discover that although ‘dogs are on the menu… they do not sell them! A leftover from some prehistoric time I presume. When Hotdogs Rule The Earth.
My resolve hardened. Today was the day. I would go In Search of the Lost Hotdog! I would let no hardship block me from my goal! Perhaps Leonard Nimoy would join me along the way!
Some thirty blocks of walking later I had still found nothing. Mexican, American, Dominican, Chinese, Indian, Deli, EvilCapitalistGlobalist Fast Food, Diners, Burger houses… oh, there were one or two false leads from persons who claimed ‘dog sightings on this block or that block, but all ended in failure until an Irish restaurant and pub near 168th. The blond bartendress told me they did not have any. Then, from the dim light a grizzled daytime drinker spoke. He had not only seen the wild hotdog; he knew where to find the best of the breed in all of Manhattan! I simply had to go outside and hop the A train to 72nd Street. I would there find that which I seek.
I rushed to the nearest subway entry only to find the kiosks were temporarily not accepting bills. So, I had to make my way aboveground to the other end of the station near Columbia Medical School where a human could handle the transaction. With that sorted, I found myself doing a grid search of the area about 72nd and Columbus. I passed restaurant after restaurant: places which served food from the far corners of the planet. None had the magical word ‘hotdog’ on the posted menu’s.
I waited in line at an outdoor Tex-Mex so I could ask there. No. No dogs… but the girl told me to go up to 72nd again and one more block over and I would find the holy grail, the Best Hotdogs in Manhattan! I thanked her and moved rapidly despite the very non-Irish afternoon temperature. This was it! I couldn’t see the sign but I knew it was near. Half a block away and the scent of hordes of grilling franks already wafted over me.
And there it was! No sign. A queue ran out onto the sidewalk from between the plywood sheets of construction work which hid most of the shop. I waited my turn and then stood at a window counter with my 3 hotdogs with everything… and a very unclassic but lovely papaya juice drink. A New York radio station was playing ‘Suite: Judy Blue Eyes’ and all was right with the world.
Papaya King. 72nd and Amsterdam, directly off the ‘1’ train. Remember that. Do your part to Save The Hotdog.
I have to go to Chicago sometime soon. If the hotdog is gone there, then it really is endangered. Assuming I remember, I’ll report.
Are you sure it isn’t just another purported health measure? They weren’t all mistaken for illicit cigars and seized?
Nice piece, Dale. We’ve all been there. Not to Papaya, of course. but to the land of a passsing food obsession. Nothing else will do. And it has to be – just – right – or you will spray the world with bullets, because this was your food dream.
Papaya drinks with hot dogs are not unclassic – Papaya King has been doing it since 1932. Also, Gray’s Papaya serves a similar product. Strange to non-natives, but the tropical drink / weenie combination is traditional in Manhattan.
Dale,
Hot dogs are alive and well in Chicago. That part of the Midwest (including Milwaukee) is Sausage Central in the U.S.A.
Just don’t buy them at Wrigley Field or Comiskey Park (the baseball grounds).
Ask any cabbie to take you to the nearest “Gold Coast Dogs” — it’ll take you five minutes just to make your choice of hotdog when you get there. As I recall, there are three: one on N. State, one on N. Wabash and one on S. Franklin. I recommend the Wabash branch.
Just don’t order any of that metrosexual fruit juice crap. Coke or Pepsi, just like God intended, will give you the correct amount of gas so that you can relive the flavor of the hotdogs, for the rest of the day (and quite possibly, the night as well).
If ever there was evidence needed that New York is falling into the abyss, it’s your sad post.
I am a bit confused here. I was always under the impression that the famous New York hot dogs were from the hot dog carts that Dale took a pass on. Is it possible that there is some kind of Trans-Atlantic misunderstanding here? I am from America and I have I have always understood the genuine article New York Hot Dog to be the ones sold from the carts and eaten on the streets preferably on the run (if a native New Yorker) or out on any available nearby sitting surface if you are in town and want to people watch. My understanding is that these conditions are a part of the experience and something is lost if you sit in a restaurant.
Of course, I think that it also depends on the quality of the hot dog vendor. I don’t think you can get them from just anyone because i wasn’t cautious enough and I got an average dog on my first try. Later I saw that some carts displayed the logos of either Hebrew National or Best Kosher Hot dogs and some didn’t. Since I have had both brands of hot dogs before in other settings I knew that these would be leagues better than the gray thing I had just eaten.
Dale, next time that you go look for the carts that sell the kosher dogs. ou might like these even better than the ones you had. Although you did pick a good place that was once featured in a Seinfeld episode.
Just some other bits of advice.
Try a ballpark hotdog, like at Yankee Stadium or get yourself over to Coney Island for other spots with great dogs.
As for Chicago, I have never heard of it being the place for dogs. If I went I would leave no stone unturned looking for bratwurst which is served like a hotdog in a bun but with sauerkraut, onions and mustard or their famous deep dish pizza. Other stuff you would probably want to check out would be their Greek, Ukrainian or Polish type establishments. There is a heavy Slavic presence in Chi-town.
As you can tell, I am a bit of a food tourist.
One more thing. In New York, please please seek out one of their justifiably famous Jewish delis. You will NOT regret a single gloriously tasty mouthful of a huge pastrami on rye with a good kosher pickle on the side.
I wasn’t aware that there was another way to get hot dogs in NYC, other than carts.
peggy: Yes, Chicago has its own dogs, Vienna Beef with sport peppers, relish, mustard, onions tomatoes and celery salt.
peggy: Yes, Chicago has its own dogs, Vienna Beef with sport peppers, relish, mustard, onions tomatoes and celery salt.
gawd! That sounds slaver-icious 🙂 I have a new food dream now.
Actually, my own cultural memories of hotdogs come from Pittsburgh. I hope The Original Hotdog is still there in Oakland. Any sort of hotdog you wanted, open until the wee hours, places to sit down with your footlong hotdog drenched in chilli and cheese and with ketchup leaking over the edges, washed down with a large coke as nature intended… and incidentally the very first place I ever played a video game. The first Pong in Pittsburgh!
Still selling Lucky Dogs in NOLA had one last time I was there.
I was always under the impression that the famous New York hot dogs were from the hot dog carts that Dale took a pass on.
Yup. Dirty water dogs.
Burger with bleu cheese is winter fare to be had with a nice Brandy Alexander and finished with a hot coffee.
Dude… If you had just watched Seinfeld, you would have known to look for the Papaya King.
Of course that presupposes a few things. I’d have to pay BBC for a license to have my own TV and be a regular couch potato; I don’t know if Seinfeld was on the standard non-satellite channels in Belfast (it may have been); and of course…
How many people would remember the name and location of a fast food restuarant in a city they don’t live in, seen in a TV sitcom multiple years in the past? Probably not many except the really hard core fans.
Dale, we’re only trying to help here. No one is getting after you for what you wrote. I just happened to remember that Papaya King had been mentioned in a Seinfeld episode. I hardly ever watched it. Don’t ask me how I remember it but it’s not because i’m a couch potato. Its just something that stuck maybe because I always have my ears pricked for good places to eat 🙂
Dale,
You are from Pee A?? I thought you wuz Oirish.
Speaking of Pa. My grandpa swore by the Hot Dog Shop in Butler and I can personally testify to his great taste in the matter. If ever I go back there, I’ll definitely have another one (or two) in his honor with a Pepsi. 🙂
wasnt there a Nathan’s years ago on Eighth Avenue between 44th and 45th Street? I remember eating there when I was a kid. I dont know how you missed it, provided, of course, it’s still there. And why not eat the dirty water dogs? I was never able to tell the difference between them and the ones you got at the Stadium
Not bothered in the least. Just responding with that dry humour of the islands.
And yes, I am from Pennsylvania originally. Or depending on how you look at it, born in Miami; raised, schooled and first startup companies and bands in Pittsburgh; settled in Belfast long ago… but when there is work, I live on the road. Or airways as the more modern terminology should be.
I recently caught a cable special on, of all things, hot dog restaurants all over America.
Every single such restaurant (from a shop much like the one described in this post to the four-star hot dog truck) served a completely different sort of hot dog. Different style of wiener, different toppings, different methods of cooking. Absolutely fascinating.
Thoughts:
1) I love the free market.
2) I need to visit some of these places.
The Dirty O is still open as far as I know. I was there last year. I love the place, great hotdogs and the biggest basket of french fries you have ever seen. I go whenever I am in Pittsburgh.
Bart
Good to hear! Yes, I remember those bins of greasy fries, smothered in cheese sauce… I don’t even know if there was any real cheese in it, but they tasted great after a night gigging at the Portfolio (or Tony’s newer bigger place, The Grafitti), or Zelda’s, or whereever.
Unless things have changed since I left NYC in December of 2002, the 72nd street hot dog shop isGray’s Papaya. Papaya King is located at 86th and Third Avenue.(Link)
I still like Gray’s hot dogs better than anyone else’s They make great drunk snacks.
Or so I’m told anyway.
Sasha: you’re absolutely correct. A very dear old friend of mine lives on 88th between Third & Lex, and every time I visit, I hit the Papaya King for chili dogs as soon as I’m on the streets.
Ask any cabbie to take you to the nearest “Gold Coast Dogs” — it’ll take you five minutes just to make your choice of hotdog when you get there. As I recall, there are three: one on N. State, one on N. Wabash and one on S. Franklin. I recommend the Wabash branch.
Just don’t order any of that metrosexual fruit juice crap. Coke or Pepsi, just like God intended, will give you the correct amount of gas so that you can relive the flavor of the hotdogs, for the rest of the day
Gray’s Papaya serves a similar product. Strange to non-natives, but the tropical drink / weenie combination is traditional in Manhattan.
One more thing. In New York, please please seek out one of their justifiably famous Jewish delis. You will NOT regret a single gloriously tasty mouthful of a huge pastrami on rye with a good kosher pickle on the side.