Chow Time: Superdawg Drive-In

"Hiya!  Thanks for stopping."

Several years ago, I was sent on a work trip to Chicago.  As a diehard fan of Ferris Bueller's Day Off, I could have spent my first time in the "Windy City" recreating his infamous ditch day - the Willis (née Sears) Tower, the German-American Steuben Parade, the Cubs game - but eating pancreas at a snooty (snotty?) French restaurant was simply not in the cards.  Instead, I dragged my coworkers along on an epic journey (a train and two busses) to consume organ meats of a more mysterious variety in an atmosphere more peculiarly American.

Superdawg Drive-In (est. 1948) - Chicago, IL
(Source)

Luckily, my pals were good natured and up for a bit of old-timey adventure.  Nevertheless, I did get the feeling that they were stunned by the fervor with which I made the pilgrimage to my hot dog holy land, Superdawg Drive-In.  I couldn't help but notice their stares as I consumed the titular foodstuffs with unprecedented gusto.  And there was no denying the borderline contempt I felt from them when I spent upwards of $80 on Superdawg souvenirs.

Imagine this times ten!

I think I was so busy scarfing hot dogs and stocking up on t-shirts, keychains, and plush hot dogs that I managed to capture but a single photo from the trip.

Mr. Tiny and Lindsay posing with/as Maurie & Flaurie, the anthropomorphized-
sausage representations of Superdawg's founders, Maurie and Flaurie Berman.

The gun show had obviously gone to Winnetka that day...

Typically, one photograph does not a blog post make.  So, when my brother and sister-in-law announced a summer trip to the Midwest, including a stop at the original Superdawg location, I told them that they had to dedicate a dawg to me (and take a lot of pictures).

We were first made aware of Superdawg Drive-In by one of the most brilliant documentaries ever made, A Hot Dog Program.  Raised on PBS, my younger brother and I would watch and watch and watch again Rick Sebak's magnum opus; every time it appeared on one of the local stations, we vowed to visit each one of the historic hot-dog emporiums before we died (likely of hot dog overdose/coronary disease).

I think he ordered a Whoopercheesie
(cheeseburger) just to be on the safe side.

Initially, Superdawg's rather severe facade can be slightly off-putting.  When I think of a friendly, '40s-era, neighborhood hot dog stand, rarely do I picture a stark, black box.  While Superdawg has always been family-owned, it has definitely endured its fair share of "updates" over the decades (dining room addition, awnings for the drive-in, etc.).  One need only look to the rooftop statues, however, to recognize Superdawg's enduring legacy of wacky tacky.

Images of the rooftop statues are recreated everywhere, even
on the restroom doors.  Having worked with many a Chicagoan
at a Chicago-based company, I am tickled to see it referred to as
the washroom.

Undeterred, even after getting grief from locals about it being a corny place for tourists only, my brother and sister-in-law made the trek to Superdawg Drive-In.  True to their word, they not only took a lot of photos, they also ordered a lot of food.  I'm pretty sure they got one of everything on the menu.

I think this is the Whoopskidawg.
"Whoopski...did I order that?"

I am much more of a purist; if you can call a hot dog in a poppy-seed bun, dressed with mustard, onions, neon-green relish, a dill pickle spear, pickled green tomatoes, and sport peppers, all "contentedly cushioned in Superfries" pure.

Make no mistake, the proprietary hot dog recipe makes the dawgs at Superdawg incredible!  Although, what keeps me wanting more is the packaging.  Every cup, every box, every bag is adorned with charming sayings alongside amazing illustrations of Maurie & Flaurie.

I mean, look at Maurie on that lounge chair surrounded by the words, "Your Superdawg
lounges inside, contentedly cushioned in Superfries and comfortably attired in..."
AND
"Hiya! From the bottom of my pure beef heart...thanks for giving me this chance to serve you!"

Who could resist?!?!!

She was so taken by the packaging, she forgot her usual
order does not include  a hot dog with "the works."

But I say, "When at Superdawg, order the Superdawg!!!"

Sometimes, the best thing to do as a tourist is to visit the touristy places; I couldn't forgive myself if I went all the way to Barcelona without visiting La Sagrada Familia.  And touristy or not, hunger be not proud.  If the nearly-seventy-year-old Superdawg Drive-In was the city's only representation of the way Chicagoland does hot dogs, then I am ready to declare Superdawg as the real "Sausage King of Chicago!"  They get every "dawggone" detail right, right down to the style in which they serve their legions of loyal patrons.

"I'm doing my darnd'est to serve every item, every time, to every customer, in a manner to make you want to return...and bring your friends with you."  If that is Superdawg's mission statement, then it is working.  As if I wasn't already in a constant state of desperation for a Superdawg myself, I am always thrilled to bring my friends with me by ringing the "Chow Time" bell for the best hot dogs in town!

Superdawg Drive-In
6363 N Milwaukee Ave
Chicago, IL
(773)763-0660

superdawg.com


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Kitsch-en Kounter: We Have a Wiener (Dog)!!!

As proven by our Mexican Corn Dogs (a questionable take on tamales), it is nigh impossible to improve on the perfection of the classic corn dog.  Nevertheless, in all of my foolhardiness, I keep on trying.

Last weekend I was invited to an "Edible Atrocities" potluck birthday party where each guest was asked to bring a dish inspired by the kooky culinary traditions of 20th-Century American cookery.  Instead of referencing my shelf of vintage cookbooks, I decided to explore that well-known black hole of bizarre ideas, my own brain.  The very last thing in the world that I like to do is waste food; I knew I had to make something that was both bizarre and, hopefully, crowd-pleasing.  What's more crowd-pleasing than corn dogs?

What's more edible than that all-American pantry staple, Jiffy Cornbread Mix?
 "Quality and Value since 1930!" 

And what's more atrocious than CHEESY WEENIES?!?!!
"Nutrition facts:" none.

After considering the options for a corn dog casserole, it was clear that a 9x13" pan was not going to cut the mustard.  It is oft said that we eat with our eyes first; shape is always important and a circle is always appealing - think donut, burger, cookies, pizza, all the best foods.

I realized that I had pans brownie, cake, springform, angel food, loaf, glass, non-stick, etc.  The one gaping hole in my pan-theon of baking pans was a one with a gaping hole; I needed a ring/bundt-type pan.  A quick trip to the thrift store on half-price day was the answer to my kitsch-en kounter prayers - a steel steal at 50¢!

It was at this moment that I considered the possibility that I might have
overfilled the pan.  Instead of panicking, I just gave myself a pat on the
back for putting everything on a lined cookie sheet!

After a bit of clean-up and cooling time, this corn dog creation was nearly award ready.
Next stop, the "Wiener's Circle!!!"

Of course, a simple ring was a little too tame for the type of party people that this savory corn cake was going to feed.  The "edible" box had been ticked, it was time to tackle "atrocious."  The corn-dog casserole needed a puppy personality and the obvious direction was dachshund, a wiener-dog wiener dog!!!

Using golden potatoes and black olives, I made a simple dog face that
ended up reminding me more than a little bit of Gromit. 

Atop a bed of curly parsley, chasing its roasted-potato tail on potato-wedge feet around
a bowl of honey-mustard glaze, this Golden Wiener Ring pup was prepped to party!

While the Golden Cheesy Weenie Ring is not necessarily what I would hold up as a "Kitsch-en Kounter" best, I feel fortunate that failure really wasn't an option when "atrocity" was the desired outcome.  The only real failure was that, at the last minute, with the Golden Wiener Dog on the leash and ready to go, some silly circumstances precluded my attendance at the party.  Talk about wasting food - I wasn't about to eat this junk!!!  Hahaha!!!

Well, who wants leftovers?  Do you like corn dogs?  Have you ever experimented with crazy mid-century recipes?  Have you been brave enough to eat the results?


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

"Holler" at Your Boy: The Country Roads of West Virginia

Is it weird to bid farewell to my West Virginia adventures by saying, "Hello?"  This final installment of the series is meant to recognize the bounteous beauty found along all of West Virginia's country roads.

My first thoughts upon seeing West Virginia from the vantage of the airplane's window seat strayed to Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn.  Yes, I know West Virginia and Mark Twain's Missouri are hundreds of miles apart (geographically and culturally), but film contrivances and my imagination are all I have to go on and that's where I went.  Just look at that river!

Before my travels, it never occurred to me that Southern California was such an arid clime.  I live in a neighborhood full of lawns and trees and growing things but, to pose it West Virginia parlance, we ain't got nothin' on Appalachia.  The depth and variety of green made me feel like I could see color for the very first time.  The air hangs heavy with a humidity for which I have never held a great affinity but somehow felt oddly comforting.  Honestly, the humidity explains both the verdant landscape and the slower pace at which West Virginians tend to operate because every motion is met with resistance; walking down the street is like wading through a pool.

New River Gorge National River Lookout

Everywhere we went we saw rivers, lakes, streams, hills, waterfalls, forests, and wildlife.  It all felt so strange and inviting that we were tempted to dive headlong into serious exploration.  Seeing our enthusiasm, locals felt obligated to give us one piece of advice, "Stay out of them hollers!"

Hollows (pronounced "hollers"): n. the sloping valley areas between hills that can be dangerous

 as they are often home to an unsavory populous pursuing less-than-lawful activities.  

Deliverance is probably more cautionary tale than anyone could possibly need, but the best delivery of this counsel was spoken thusly, "Y'all don't wanna end up like in one o' them wrong turn movies."

This naturally-occurring, roadside waterfall sits right alongside the two-lane highway.
The hose/spout contraption allows local residents to exploit the falls as a fresh water resource.

Not wanting to end up like the victims of a "Wrong turn" movie, we stuck mostly to paved roads and the numerous national and state parks that abound throughout West Virginia's countryside.  Speaking of country, this city slicker had, of course, heard the term "Country mile" before, but it took flying a few thousand miles to understand exactly what that term meant.

West Virginia's state flower is the Rhododendron.  Is it any wonder?

The New River Gorge National River Bridge

Mr. Tiny at Cathedral Falls

These dolls have very little to do with nature and country roads but I

saw them in almost every second-hand/thrift/antique store that I entered.

Their primitive, soft-bodied forms and plastic faces (I already have a few 

in the stash) make them the perfect wacky tacky craft project; stay tuned!

The caboose of a coal train as it cuts around hills

Anybody with a camera could have captured the beauty here.  Nevertheless, I was pretty proud of this shot.

Normally, I get pretty excited over taxidermy but this was a real, live deer!

Often times I silently refuse to step out of my comfort zone.  Going to West Virginia (a huge leap outside of California comfort) emboldened me.  Embracing small town mentality didn't always feel comfortable but it felt necessary and exciting.

What better way to celebrate small-town living
than by going to the VFW for a hot dog sale?

The hot dog sale is more than a West Virginia-style fundraiser, it is a way of
life.  It seemed that every day on every corner some organization was selling
 hot dogs (WV's favorite domestic product).  By far, we were the youngest
people at the VFW - always a good sign in my book!

Forget the hot dog sale, I could just eat this kid up!

Milligan Creek Covered Bridge

My sister thought it was weird that I was kind of hoping our drive through this historic,
 covered bridge would culminate in a full-blown Beetlejuice extravaganza.  Maybe I just
wanted to read the Handbook for the Recently Deceased.

The aerial tram at Pipestem National Park

Mr. Tiny goes back to nature

Rowing at Plum Orchard State Park

It wouldn't be West Virginia unless somebody was burning trash on the lawn.
This is something that the southwestern United States, a veritable tinder box, could never fathom.

I found the mouse in the swiss cheese at West Virginia's famed folk art/primitives showcase, Tamarack.

The Tamarack's iconic roofline

Glade Creek Grist Mill

Dusk at Lake Stephens
Watch out for them skeeters!!!

The best part about traversing the country roads of West Virginia was the opportunity to fulfill a lifelong fantasy.  Normally, I am extremely grateful that Southern California is lacking so many of the insect species that make their homes in more humid climes.  On this occasion, I was beyond excited to encounter BUGS!

More specifically, Lightning Bugs
We caught fireflies and it was a dream come true!

Lightning Bugs, Fireflies - call them what you will, there is something so
quintessentially American about capturing these incredible bugs and
putting them in a jar...or a plastic juice bottle...whatever you've got handy.

Not to worry; we operated on the catch-and-release system.
No bugs were harmed in the making of this blog.

I must regularly rebuke myself for speaking too often in sweeping generalities and broad pronouncements.  That being said, I can almost guarantee with near 100% surety that I will NEVER again employ a John Denver song to underscore a wacky tacky post.  However, there simply isn't another song that so clearly demonstrates the feeling of those winding Appalachian roads.

"Take Me Home, Country Roads" - John Denver

I will freely admit that I sang the refrain to this song at least three times a day while I was within state lines.

I will also freely admit that I think I am becoming one of them....
I need help!

A HUGE thank you to my sister, brother-in-law, and the cutest nephew in the entire world for hosting me so graciously and making it an unforgettable trip.  I miss you guys!!

I can't tell you how much I love, love, love traveling and finding the beauty and the wacky tacky that the world has to offer.  I'm already itching to go on the next adventure and so I'll pose the question to you.  Where should I go next?  Do you have any recommendations for a "wild and wonderful" adventure to satiate my wacky tacky wanderlust?

Until next time, West Virginia!


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Chow Time: Hillbilly Hot Dogs

Do you ever go someplace entirely new to you only to get the feeling that somehow you're home?  Where the accumulation of generations' worth of junk is immediately off-putting and comfortably familiar?  Where the jokes are inappropriate, immature, unappetizing, AND entirely hilarious?   Where the food is nothing like "Mama used to make," and that is a good thing?  Hillbilly Hot Dogs in Lesage, WV is the home for which I'd never dared to dream!

I have never posted two "Chow Time" posts in a row, but I am winding up my wild and wonderful West Virginia wingding and I didn't quite plan the sequence as carefully as I might have. 

I told you that I found my home.
Like "A Town Called Odd," I'm unsure if I should be flattered or
offended by the offer of mayorship of Teenie Weenie Land.

Opened in the waning days of the 20th Century, Hillbilly Hot Dogs' appearance belies its mere adolescence; aged outbuildings, rusty farmyard equipment, and weathered vehicles give the facilities the time worn look of a much older hillbilly holler.  While technically it is a restaurant, Hillbilly Hot Dogs is at its core a giant junkyard.  Except for the unctuous aroma of hot dog and french fry oils heavily perfuming the air, a traveler might mistake HHD for the Appalachian interpretation of Sanford and Son.  Not shy of that fact, the management has made the "Junkyard Dog" one of the premiere menu items.  

Just one of the many outbuildings on the premises of Hillbilly Hot Dogs.
I know I have a serious problem when I review this photo and see more than a
 few items that I wish I would have brought home as souvenirs from my trip.

With its tongue firmly entrenched in the hollow of its cheek (parts of the anatomy one really shouldn't think about when eating mystery-meat hot dogs), HHD takes all of the hillbilly stereotypes, embraces them, and makes them digestible for an outsider audience.  

Multiple buses are "dry docked" and repurposed as dining rooms.

At least it's two-ply.

This tree is going places!

We found our seats (in the way back where all the cool kids sit)
but not before picking up a few permanent black markers. 

Every available surface from trash cans, to windows, to weather-beaten
toys is covered in names, dates, quotes, quips, and expressions of love.
We would have gotten in serious trouble writing on the walls when we were kids.
Nevertheless, I will say that I wasn't shy about leaving my mark at HHD.

Do you ever see these plates when you're out and about?
I am always drawn to them but when it comes time to buy
them, for some reason choose to exhibit my most elusive
virtue - restraint.  I figured that signing the plate would
alleviate some of my non-buyer's remorse.

After surveying the premises and making a lasting impression on the walls and windows of a school bus, we made our way to the counter to order our hillbilly grub.  The menu, like the sprawling yard, is extensive and took some time to peruse.  The big challenge is the "Home Wrecker," a fifteen-inch hot dog with everything (and I mean everything) on it.  If a single guest can finish this big dog in under twelve minutes, the Home Wrecker and a prize T-shirt are free (stomach pump NOT included).  We toyed with the idea of ordering one and splitting it amongst our party of four but the last thing I wanted to do was waste time being sick!

At least we were assured that the food would be healthy...

Some crazy french fry concoction
I'm more of a purist.

The Hillbilly Hot Dog
(Mustard, chili, and onions)

The West Virginia Dog
(Chili, onions, and coleslaw)

The Strictly Business Dog
As I've mentioned before, my brother-in-law hails from the great state of Hawaii.
Not wanting to shame the people of his home state, he indulged in a hot dog
topped with that most-misunderstood delicacy, Spam (fried Spam at that).

A corn dog.

Refueling of all varieties takes place at HHD.

Lewd, crude, and disgustingly rude...why didn't I think of that?

It would have been entirely possible, necessary even, to have spent hours combing the grounds of Hillbilly Hot Dogs inspecting all of the accumulated treasures, dilapidated vehicles, and silly signage.  Unfortunately, we had to keep our visit brief as this was my very last stop before winging my way home.

Hillbilly Hot Dogs (Flagship Location)
6951 Ohio River Rd
Lesage, WV
(304)762-2458

www.hillbillyhotdogs.com


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny