Though regarded with disdain by the chic, and horror by the alfalfa-sprout crowd, hot dogs are flat-out wonderful. And versatile. Dripping with onions and ball-park and mustard from a Sabrett man, they taste like New York; served in little cardboard doo-hickeys and called frankfurters, they taste like America. They also make no unreasonable demands on the home cook. – Vladimr Estragon
PS: For a beautiful short elegy for the last Howard Johnson’s in New York City (by our friend John Mariani) click here (and scroll down towards the end of the page).