Tastes of Summer 1: AEB Superdawg Redux

We'll take AEB Superdawgs pretty much any way we can get 'em.  But, let's face it, they're particularly good on a real hot dog bun, and if you happen to be passing through the Mid-Atlantic region sometime soon, you might want to keep your eyes open Martin's hot dog-style potato rolls.  They're easy to spot--they come in those distinctive neo-Fraktur Pennsylvania Dutch-style bags.

 fig. a:  De Stijl

We swear by their classic potato rolls for hamburgers and chopped pork sandwiches, but their hot dog rolls are pretty choice, too.  I mean, just look at those dawgs!

 fig. b:  double dawgged

Pictured:

Hebrew National kosher all-beef franks
finely chopped yellow onion (buried)
chopped cherry tomatoes
finely chopped half-sour pickles
pickled corn
Keen's hot mustard
Hellmann's mayonnaise
celery salt

Total prep time:  about 10-15 minutes.

Summer is officially officially here (just feel that heat and humidity).  Make the most of it.  Keep things simple, but, for the love of Dawg, keep 'em tasty.

aj

Dressed to Kill

Gonna dress you up in my love
All over, all over
Gonna dress you up in my love
All over your body
--Madonna, "Dress You Up"

The word on the street for hot dogs this year is DRESSED UP. Of course, dressed up is the way many discriminating dog lovers have been doin' it for decades, especially in such advanced hot dog civilizations as, say, Chicago. But sometimes those of us who live in somewhat less sophisticated hot dog cultures need a little encouragement to go to town, so to speak. I mean I love an all-dressed toasté as much as the next guy (possibly even a whole lot more than the next guy), but does mustard, onions, salade au chou, and day-glo relish really qualify as ALL-DRESSED?

fig. a: the fix is in

A recent whirlwind excursion to the Big Onion resulted in a number of astounding drinking and dining experiences (news to follow), but when the dust settled, we also found ourselves in the possession of a beautiful, if dear, jar of McClure's premium garlic & dill spears. And suddenly we started dressing our dogs in more elaborate attire.

AEB Superdawgs*

4 premium wieners of your choosing**
1-2 tablespoons vegetable oil
premium pickle spears, such as McClure's
premium pickled green tomatoes, such as Graves
and/or premium chow-chow, such as ours
and/or premium relish, such as McClure's
premium extra-spicy mustard, such as Philippe's
quality mayonnaise, such as Hellmann's
2 green chile peppers, preferably Anaheim, diced
minced onion, preferably red or vidalia
8-12 ripe, delicious cherry tomatoes, quartered
olive oil
red wine vinegar (optional)
salt
freshly ground black pepper

2-4 hot dog buns, toasted

Prepare your garnishes and assemble your dressings and accompaniments. In the case of the cherry tomatoes, toss them with just a bit of olive oil and a touch of red wine vinegar (if you so desire), and salt and pepper them to taste. In the case of the pickle spears, slice any and all pickle halves into thirds lengthwise to make long, slender spears.

Heat about 1 tablespoon of the vegetable oil in a pan over medium heat. When the oil is hot, place your wieners in the pan and slowly roast them until they are crispy and even just a little bit blistered all over. If done properly and patiently, this should take several minutes.

When the dogs are cooked to perfection, add the green chiles to the pan and stir-fry them quickly. If you need a bit more oil to do so, add the second tablespoon of oil. Add salt and pepper to taste. Remove from heat.

Finally, toast your buns in your hot, lightly oiled pan.

Slather your toasted buns with pickled green tomatoes (and/or chow-chow and relish) on one side, hot mustard and mayonnaise on the other. Place the hot dogs and a couple of pickle spears in the buns. Add the onions and sauteed chile peppers. Top with tomatoes.

Muster up the courage to somehow hold that overstuffed bad boy together and devour.

Satisfies 2-4 mightily.

Now, we have a bit of a hot dog bun problem in Montreal. We can get decent steamé/toasté buns like POM, but one of the reasons that our dogs aren't particularly overstuffed and those of, say, Chicago often are, has to do with the vehicle. Let's face it, our standard hot dog buns just don't have the girth and the character to handle a seriously dressed-up dog, even when they've been properly toasted. Which is why we've been experimenting with alternative vehicles here at the AEB Labs.

So, for instance, your basic Portuguese bun has a lot more to do with a traditional sausage bun than it does a traditional hot dog, but at least it's capable of carrying a heavy load like an AEB Superdawg. Not ideal, but fresh and functional. [Note: if you follow our lead and use a Portuguese bun, be sure to rip out some of the bread from the inside, otherwise it will be too bready and will overwhelm your dog. That extra bread is fine for a sausage sandwich, but a hot dog? Not so much.]



figs. b & c: superdawg attack!

The folks at Cheskie used to make a long, peppery onion bun that had plenty of character, but they seem to have changed their recipe recently and added whole wheat flour to the mix. So sad.

So the search goes on... Which means, if you live in Montreal and you have any ideas, please, do tell.

Meanwhile, we've been enjoying our Superdawgs with a rotating cast of vehicles.

Calling the AEB Superdawg a taste sensation would be an understatement. Yes, you guessed it--that dawg is dressed to kill.

aj

* With apologies to Superdawg of Chicago.

** Substitute with a premium veggie dog of your choosing, if you must.

Vancouver Diary 6

June 17, 2007

Fittingly enough--it being a Sunday and all--June 17 was our most relaxed day in Vancouver, our day of rest.

I woke up thinking about the produce we'd gotten at the East Van/Trout Lake Farmers' Market the day before. I was also thinking about that as-of-yet unopened package of smoked ricotta from La Grotta del Formaggio.

fig. a: smoked ricotta, zucchini blossoms

I kept the mushrooms simple. They were so nice that I wanted to taste them relatively unadorned. Just some butter and some garlic, salt and pepper. The zucchini blossoms were kept pretty simple too. I just gently undid the petals and stuffed them with small hunks of that smoked ricotta, which, quite frankly, was dazzling. Probably the best cheese experience I've had since the smoked mozzarella epiphany we had outside of Joe's Dairy earlier this year. I then gently twisted the petals back together again and seared them in a bit of olive oil in a medium-hot pan--just a minute or two on each side. Eggs over-easy, toast, and Continental coffee completed the scene. The mushrooms and the zucchini blossoms and the garlic scapes (I almost forgot about the sautéed garlic scapes) were all pretty great--ideal brunch fare. I'm not the only one who thought so, either. Here, read all about it.

We ate brunch kinda late, so lunch didn't really come into play that day. We just went and caught a film at the Scotiabank Theatre, and as we rode up the escalator towards our movie theatre we noticed this out the window:

fig. b: what the...?

a bizarre, overgrown, rooftop grass tennis court sitting on top of a Denny's. We immediately envisioned some kind of site-specific artwork, a film, or, even better, a large-scale photo-conceptualist piece, this being Vancouver, after all. Mostly we just wanted to find a way up there so we could enjoy the perverse thrill of playing lawn tennis on the roof of a building. Or was that just moss?

Japa Dog

Anyway, when we left the cinema two hours later, we fully intended to try and find a staircase up to that tennis court, but we kinda got sidetracked. You see, we'd heard rumors that the one, the only, Japa Dog--home of the Japanese-style "special hotdog--was located kitty-corner to Scotiabank Theatre, at the corner of Burrard and Smithe. And, sure enough, when we got out on the street, there he was: the Japa Dog chef, along with his lovely assistant, and that unmistakable Japa Dog cart. Suddenly, lawn tennis just didn't seem as important.

fig. c: Japa Dog!

In fact, we were ecstatic. It looked even better than we'd imagined. We weren't hugely hungry, but NO WAY were we going to miss out on that Japa Dog experience. So we took a close look at Japa Dog's Japa-style menu and made a couple of selections: the all-beef Terimayo and the bratwurst Oroshi. The Terimayo, as you might have gathered, comes with teriyaki sauce and Japa-style mayonnaise. What you might not know, is that it also comes with sauteed onions and--yes!--shredded nori. It looks like this

fig. d: Japa-style Terimayo dog

and it tastes divine. The Oroshi, on the other hand, comes with "special soy sauce," chopped scallions, and pickled daikon. I preferred the Terimayo, but the Oroshi was pretty stellar too, and Michelle thought the two were equals.

Not surprisingly, Japa Dog has made waves in the two years its been open. It's gotten its fair share of attention and it's won a number of awards too. Trust me, it deserves all the attention it's gotten. We'd definitely give it an award. In fact, I'm gonna give it an award right now: AEB's "Best Fusion Dish in the World." "Ever."

All those snapshots and articles on Japa Dog's Wall of Fame were pretty impressive, but we were particularly struck by one photo in particular:

fig. e: "Mr. Ice Cube ate!"

"I love turkey!"? AmeriKKKa's Most Wanted might have lost some of his attitude over the years, but at least the man's got taste.

Japa Dog, corner of Smithe and Burrard

aj

Short Hop to Michigans and Back

No, that's not yet another egregious typo up there in the title. We only had about 4-5 hours to play with, so making it to Michigan and back was completely out of the question. Plus, for the kind of Michigan we were looking for, it's not clear crossing the Peace Bridge from Windsor into Detroit would have done us much good. We were in search of Michigans, the legendary hot dog concoctions, not Michigan, the state, so we headed to the town which, if it isn't the official Michigans capital of the world, most definitely is the Michigans capital of New York's North Country: Plattsburgh.

Prior to September of last year, we were pretty ignorant of Plattsburgh. We knew it sat on Lake Champlain and that it was a college town. We knew it had a pretty nice downtown core visible from Amtrak's Montreal-New York Adirondack Express, but, aside from that, our attitude towards Plattsburgh was one typical of a lot of Montrealers: we couldn't see past the strip malls, gas stations, and fast food chains on the edge of town. Then we received our October 2006 issue of Gourmet, read Jane and Michael Stern's "Roadfood" piece on Plattsburgh and its Michigans specialists, and suddenly we were seeing the town with new eyes. We started talking about Michigans with some frequency and Plattsburgh suddenly got vaulted towards the top of our road trip wish-list. Plattsburgh's Michigans became such an obsession, in fact, that in February, on our way down to New York City, I had to physically restrain Michelle when our train pulled into Plattsburgh because of her desperate attempts to disembark and blindly score "just one Michigan, just one lousy Michigan" before the train pulled out again (without her parka, I should add).

The strange thing about all this is that neither of us had ever met a chili dog (for that, in essence, is what a Michigan is) we really liked--it had never occurred to either of us that a chili dog could actually be a good thing. Then, suddenly, after reading the Sterns' account of this "small, porky frank bedded in a cream-soft bun and topped with mustard, onions, and a sauce made from a little tomato, a lot of spice, and finely ground beef" it all made sense. "Of course," we thought. "What's the problem?" Okay, the mustard seemed a little bizarre, and then there was that whole business with the nomenclature (why this hot dog + "Texas Red" became known as a Michigan in Plattsburgh is anybody's guess, although the Sterns' mention one credible story involving a transplanted Michigander who introduced the chili dog to Plattsburgh when sales on her mustard and sauerkraut-topped dogs went flat). But aside from that...

Anyway, after all that "talk, talk, talk" we finally made it down to Plattsburgh in search of Michigans yesterday, inspired by a Montreal-style Michigan we sampled earlier in the week, and intrigued by the vast differences between Michigans on opposite sides of the border (Montreal's are made with a meaty spaghetti sauce). Plus, it was nice out and we were in the mood for a drive along Lake Champlain, so we fired up our car and headed for the border.

fig. a: Chazy Orchards, Chazy, NY

Shortly after crossing into New York we came across the famous Chazy Orchards, the ones we'd heard about last year from Mr. Safian. If you look closely you'll notice three things: 1) that's our car there in the parking lot, 2) that's Michelle sitting in the passenger seat of our car, 3) and that sign for Chazy Orchards reads "Largest McIntosh Orchard..." What you can't see is that the bottom reads "In the World." The image, oddly, shows a map of North America on the face of a huge McIntosh. Stranger still, the map of North America is missing Canada. Very interesting...

fig. b: Boylan's root beer

A little further down the road we came across Conroy's Organics. We were hoping we might find some ramps that we could try to smuggle back into Quebec, but all we came across was some gorgeous, but pricey, asparagus. As a consolation prize I bought myself a Boylan's root beer, the first of three soft drinks I'd guzzle (completely uncharacteristically) during the course of our short hop, and easily the best.

fig. c: Clare & Carl's, Plattsburgh, NY

The Sterns mention three Michigans stands in their article: Gus's, McSweeney's, and Clare & Carl's. We had an unbelievably easy time finding the first two--they were within a 1/4 mile of each other--but locating Clare & Carl's was another matter. The article doesn't provide much in the way of directions, but we're usually pretty good at sussing these things out regardless. What added to the confusion this time around was that although Gus's is listed as being at 3 Cumberland Head Road, McSweeney's is listed at 535 N. Margaret Street, and Clare & Carl's is listed at 4729 U.S. Route 9, all three establishments are essentially on the very same stretch of road, U.S. Route 9. Two virtually side-by-side on the north end of town (Gus's and McSweeney's), and the other (Clare & Carl's) two miles to the south of downtown Plattsburgh. Anyway, although McSweeney's seemed to get the best rating when it came to their chili, the Sterns' description of Clare & Carl's was the one that had us the most intrigued, so that's where we went first and we were glad we did.

First stop: Clare & Carl's

Clare & Carl's is a wonderfully decrepit hot dog stand that dates back to 1942. It's so weather-beaten, in fact, that it looks like it's sinking back into the ground on which it was erected (a fact that the cartoon on the back of the Clare & Carl's t-shirts worn by the servers accentuates to hilarious effect). The interior is tiny: just a gorgeous vintage U-shaped counter and a small kitchen out back. There are also picnic tables for those who want to dine al fresco and you always have the option of getting carhop service, too. That's right: carhop service. In the 21st century.

fig. d: graffiti, Clare & Carl's, Plattsburgh, NY

The whole place is very photogenic.

fig. e: conveniences, Clare & Carl's, Plattsburgh, NY

Right down to their washrooms.

More importantly, though, their Michigans are outrageously good. Their chili is made with finely ground beef and it's rich and flavorful, with no sweet to it and just a little bit of heat. Onions are a must, and you have the option of having them as a topping or "buried" under the dog and the sauce. Mustard is provided on the side. I didn't dare add mustard--I was having too good a time already--but Michelle cleverly applied mustard to half of hers so she could run her very own taste test. Afterwards she swore the mustard had added "a little something" that actually took the combo to new heights.

Suffice to say, we left Clare & Carl's completely enamored. We promised each other then and there that Clare & Carl's would become a regular part of our travels between Montreal and points south.

fig. f: McSweeney's Michigan w/ onions, Plattsburgh, NY

Next stop: McSweeney's.

We thought we might find a cluster of lit-heads--online lit-heads, to be precise--archly nibbling their Michigans and slurping back their "sauceburgers" then irritating the staff by repeatedly asking, "Uh, is Timothy working today?" and then chortling, but instead we found ourselves in the presence of a car club. A Smart car club. A Canadian Smart car club. Who knew? We certainly didn't, and we were horrified to find out such things exist. This was certainly not the band of lovable eccentrics that take part in that London - Brighton antique car rally you see in Genevieve (1953). Here, instead, was a group of people who hadn't banded together out of a love of restoring cars, but simply because they'd happened to buy the same brand of car right off the showroom floor. Now that's kinship. Plus, they'd each taken their supposedly eco-friendly cars on a road trip--a group road trip. We couldn't help but think that maybe renting a van might have been friendlier on the environment. Anyway, the spectacle of this, er, Smart car club wasn't particularly easy on the stomach, but we had serious research to complete so we took a deep breath and soldiered on.

At only 16 years of age, McSweeney's is the youngest of Plattsburgh's red-hots stands. It's bright and spanky-looking on the outside and has all the charm of a Long John Silvers on the inside. We ordered our two Michigans and opted to sit outside at a picnic table even if the Smart car club was busy revving their engines. McSweeney's Michigans sauce was the most authentically chili-like of the Michigans we sampled. The ground beef was coarser than Clare & Carl's and the sauce was much spicier, more complex. Their Michigans came with mustard as a standard feature, and when I tasted the entire ensemble together I suddenly understood Michelle's preference. The mustard added yet another layer of spice, of warmth, and somehow it still worked. All in all, I was pretty impressed by my McSweeney's Michigan--and I couldn't get over the fact that they too offered carhop service (just check out that tray!)--but Michelle felt pretty strongly that Clare & Carl's had not been unseated. There was no question who was #1 on the ambiance front, that's for sure.

Final stop: Gus's.

Gus's was the place that intrigued us the least even if its history does date back to 1951. Reading over the Sterns' section on Gus's again, I'm not sure why. Our intuition turned out to be correct, though. Gus's Michigan (Michelle had bowed out by this time, leaving me with daunting challenge of completing the Plattsburgh Michigans trifecta solo) was very good, but it was sweeter than either of the previous two and somehow not quite as distinctive. Plus, nothing about Gus's indicated that it had been in business for 56 years. The interior was pure "family dining" at its most banal. But I didn't let any of that get to me--I polished off that Gus's red hot in seconds flat.

Final results:
Win: Clare & Carl's
Place: McSweeney's
Show: Gus's

Would we do it again? Absolutely. Do we need to go to all three ever again? Nah. You'll find us at Clare & Carl's with our Michigans, coleslaw, a Coke, and a smile.

aj