Since Saturdays are the only days when burning is legal in South Union Township, I spent the first morning of the Memorial Day weekend tending to the stack of branches that had accumulated on the burn pile since the middle of April. It was indeed a mighty pile, and it took past lunch time to get rid of it, as well as all the odd pieces that had fallen with the wind, but hadn't yet quite made it to the pile.
Anyway, along about noon, my wife, who had spent the morning cultivating her garden in true Panglossian fashion, came down to admire the blaze, and suggested that as long as we had such a nice fire going, why not roast a few hot dogs for lunch?
"It's kind of a big fire," I opined, pointing to the confalgration. "Kind of hard to get close to. Need one heck of a long st..."
"I'll get the dogs," she said.
Now I don't know, dear reader, how you feel about it, but when it comes to hot dogs, I am most particular. The only hot dog worth eating, as far as I am concerned, is the all-beef kosher, like Hebrew National or that most reasonable of facsimiles, Nathan's. My wife, on the other hand, a Smart Balance, no-fat kind of person, goes for something she calls a hot dog, but that seems to be made out of turkey. This to my mind is tantamount to sacrilege. At least it would be if anybody in his or her right mind considered chopped up turkey shaped like a hot dog to be a hot dog. I mean, let's get real. Is it the shape that makes the dog?
She shaved the ends of two longer boughs. On one she put my real hot dog; on the other she put her turkey thing. We roasted. The fire was blazing. The dogs were roasting. Our faces were glowing. Our faces were getting red. Our faces were just about done. Still, hot dogs cooked on an open fire are no doubt worth a little discomfort. Roasting them brings back all the camping trips with the Boy Scouts, the family picnics, the...
"We need longer sticks," she said.
A few more minutes and my dog and her bird sausage were done, with charred spots and even a few bubbles; perfect. Except, I don't know how you feel about it, dear reader, but when it comes to hot dogs, I am most particular. There is only one condiment to slather atop the all-beef kosher dog or reasonable facsimile thereof, and that one condiment is mustard — yellow, brown; French's, Gulden's — either will do, but only mustard. My beloved, on her "fauxfurter," slathers mustard alright, but it is honey mustard. Honey mustard — the thought of it alone could make you retch. And if this isn't blasphemy enough, she must add ketchup to boot.
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Article comments
1 - Nancy
Couldn't agree more on how to cook a marshmallow. I like putting the stick and whatever handle directly in the fire nad pulling out a flambe fluffie. Once flame goes out, it's perfect for s'mores.
2 - STM
You can get marshmallows anywhere ... but good hotdogs are only available in the US and parts of Europe.
I wish someone from this country would go over to the US, find out what they put in the bloody things (and not tell us, might be best) and start selling them here.
They are very poor imitations in Oz.
When I'm in the US, I have to get two a day from one of the street vendors there ... one's never enough.
The Germans go all right too; they know how to make 'em. Perhaps that's our problem. Not ernough Germans came here - just the one state here is full of them, and most came in the late 19th and early 20th centuries and anglicised their names during World War One so it's hard to tell who's who and who we should ask.
3 - FCEtier
Miss Bob and I love both of these items!
We cooked out three times this weekend and had roasted marshmallows every time!