(From left) The Big Mac Dog and the Hot Dog King from Horne Dogs (Photo by Jordan Hanna)
The etymology of the term “hot dog” is murky. It goes a little something like this: The scene is a baseball stadium in the early 1900s. American sports columnist Tad Dorgan is listening to vendors tout their hot dachshund sausages and decides this visual is his next cartoon for The New York Journal. But there’s a hiccup: Dorgan can’t spell. Liberties are taken, and in his tubular meat depiction the words “hot dog” are born. While the origins of the actual wiener are decidedly German, Americans (and Richmonders) have fully embraced the frankfurter, bedazzling it with almost anything.
At Fat Kid Sandwiches, a split-top bun contains a hefty one-hander banh mi roller dog with thin carrot shavings, pickled mushrooms and a sparky red curry peanut sauce. Joey’s Hot Dogs’ Hot Italian is a fancy and neatly assembled sausage. You could dog and drive with this one, adorned with overtly beefed chili, finely diced onion and a gentle swipe of mustard.
A real knife-and-forker, Perly’s Chazerai beef giant comes with a schmear of egg salad tucked into the crevice of a poppy seed roll piled precariously high with Fresno chile relish, and a crispy fried pickle. The Big Mac Dog from Horne Dogs straddles the line of hamburger and hotdog with shreds of lettuce, chopped pickles and onions, Thousand Island dressing, and sliced cheese. Eazzy Burger’s Locote is a frank vibing with street corn, creating mayo- and queso-laden bites sporadically popping with chile crunch.
No wiener tour would be complete without the Alpine Dog from Black Lodge. Dog madness awaits with buns full of weenies covered in peppers, fried onions, fondue and speck.
Fast, sloppy and best to go are the local bargain dogs. City Dogs takes you right down memory lane (and maybe those memories include a late night or two? A hot dog never tells) with the Richmond Original and its orange-ish chili, bright yellow mustard, haphazardly chopped onions and everywhere portability, all for under $3. Ray’s Dog House (401 N. First St.) is no frills, all flat-top, and every topping is free — which is “have it your way” heaven. A suggestion from the window of the parking lot dog stand in Jackson Ward is a hefty dash of Old Bay, onions, peppers and spicy chili.
