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Sunday, September 03, 2000 By Marlene Parrish, Post-Gazette Staff Writer
CHICAGO -- I remember my first time. It was in Chicago on West Belmont at a hot dog joint called Murphy's. I ordered the full Chicago hot dog, a garden on a bun, and watched stupefied as Murph himself constructed the icon before my very eyes.
He cradled a chargrilled, all-beef, hickory-smoked hot dog into the crease of a soft, steamed poppyseed bun, then topped it with a squirt of yellow ballpark mustard, pickle relish as green as St. Patrick's Day, chopped white onion, two tomato wedges, a dill pickle spear, two midget sport peppers (more about them later) and a hail of celery salt. You want fries with that? Sure. That'll be $2.39 for the dog, and 95 cents for the fries.
In case you're wondering, you never, ever, ever add ketchup to a Chicago hot dog. Never.
The Chicago hot dog, the functional equivalent of England's fish and chips, is one of that city's signatures, and a mainstay of its nearly 3,000 hot dog sellers, which include more than 1,800 street vendors.
In Chicago, neighborhoods define themselves by their hot dog stands. Various ethnic populations take credit for its contents. All this from a hot dog?
You want to know about hot dogs, you talk to Dr. Bruce Kraig, professor emeritus of food history at Roosevelt University in Chicago. He's well into the manuscript of a book on hot dogs to be published in 2002, and so enthusiastic about the local hot dog, his words make your mouth water.
"The Chicago is a heavily ethnic hot dog," Kraig says. "The hot dog itself was common from around the 1890s. It was, just as it is now, a cheap, convenient meal to eat on the run. Before things got complicated, it was your run-of-the-mill hot dog on a bun with mustard."
The dog-in-the-garden was invented by street vendors. "To understand its development, you have to look at the population. From the 1880s to 1920, Chicago's population was heavily German and Scandinavian, with many immigrant groups pouring into the city. After 1900, surges of Eastern and Southern Europeans moved in, including the Italians, Eastern European Jews and Greeks. With little understanding of either the language or the business culture, substantial numbers of these immigrants earned their living as street vendors."
In 1920, according to the census, there were 20,000 Greek males in Chicago and there were 18,000 Greek-owned businesses. These men were some of the poorest of the poor, and many of the "businesses" were little more than street carts, the precursors to the Greek restaurants that dominate the city today.
Street vendors had cutthroat competition. The Greeks competed with the Jews, who competed with the Italians, who competed with everyone else. To get a leg up on the competition, each ethnic group tweaked the hot dog with its own toppings, which also varied by neighborhood. Rivals jumped to copycat the additions.
"Then there's the celery salt, which is not as weird as it sounds if you look at history," Kraig says. "Celery and celery salt were standard condiments in Chicago in the first part of the last century. Every restaurant in Chicago, and in fact all through the Midwest, had a dish of celery stalks or a shaker of celery salt on the table. This Midwest tradition lasted well into the 1950s. Just a shake on top of the hot dog adds a familiar flavor note.
"The classic status of the Chicago-style hot dog was sealed during the Depression. You could get one for 5 cents -- a whole meal for a nickel."
Hot dogging
All hot dogs are not created equal. Time out for clarification.
"A New York hot dog has a flavor profile that's heavily flavored with garlic and salt," says Kraig. "You have one of the best of the New York-type hot dogs right there in Pittsburgh at the Oakland Original."
Kraig knows this from first-hand experience, because his sons attended the University of Pittsburgh, where eating at the "O," 3901 Forbes Ave., is a required course. As if we needed to be told. In fact, native son Rick Sebak of WQED has produced an ode to the wiener, a PBS video called the "The Hot Dog Show."
Says Kraig: "When the hot dog moved to Chicago, the profile changed. Manufacturers took out the garlic and added spices and peppers. Although paprika is dominant among them, the subtle and complex spice flavors are, of course, secret."
The Chicago dog is all-beef and hickory-smoked, and its manufacture is dominated by the Vienna beef company. Vienna hot dogs are made to be steamed or cooked in a water bath. Chargrilling the dogs is tolerated as an option but is not traditional.
Kraig allows that mildly flavored supermarket wieners such as Oscar Mayer appeal to folks who like their dogs bland, which mostly includes kids. And he says a New York kosher hot dog is whatever you want it to be as long as it's blessed by a rabbi and all-beef, of course. Most New Yorkers equate the kosher dog with the heavily garlicked type.
Most dogs are available either skinless or with a natural casing that snaps, as they say, with the first bite.
Getcher hot dogs here
How did the Chicago hot dog backtrack its way to Pittsburgh, specifically to a tiny hot dog shop named D's Six Pax & Dogz, 1118 S. Braddock Ave., Regent Square?
Dino DeFlavio runs the mini-eatery for his parents, Frank and Dee DeFlavio of Latrobe. He had never been to Chicago, much less eaten the famous dawg, when he opened his beer take-out shop seven months ago.
Correction: It's not a beer take-out shop so much as a thinking-drinking man's toy store. Wait'll you hear.
"Beer is my life," says DeFlavio. He has owned McBroom's beer distributorship down the street for 21 years. "This is a great neighborhood. It has a restaurant, a deli, a bar and a pizza place, and they're all upscale for their type. But there's no place where you can buy six-packs of beers from around the world, and no hot dog shop. I wanted to fill both niches."
He has it covered.
"We sell 800 kinds of beer, either by the bottle or mixed six-pack. My goal is to stock 1,000. With that kind of draw, I wanted a first-class hot dog, and I wanted it to be unique. The Chicago hot dog is a perfect fit."
Luckily, the Vienna Beef marketing types are on the ball. They provide a purveyor package -- hot dogs, poppyseed buns (high-gluten so they will be strong enough to carry the cargo), mustard, sport peppers and that mean-green relish. All the storekeeper has to add is the fresh salad stuff, a pickle and a customer.
Word of mouth is making that happen big-time. "People come for the beers and stay for a hot dog," says barmaid and Pitt student Emily Killian (just like the beer) of Edgewood. "When we get an order for a Chicago hot dog, we still have to look at the blueprint chart so we get everything on there in just the right order." It's still a meal at $2.50.
"Once people try one, they love it," says bar manager Terra Miskovich, also of Edgewood. "We see them coming back and ordering one all the time. And the fries are awesome, too. Double crisp and never soggy."
Pittsburghers who love Primanti sandwiches crammed with fries and coleslaw will take to the Chicago hot dog. Open wide, folks.
Another Pittsburgh eatery that advertises genuine Chicago hot dogs is Yovi's on Liberty Avenue at 7th Avenue, Downtown. It's open only for lunch and is filled with Chicago memorabilia.
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The hot dog on a bun with mustard is a direct line from the Germans and Eastern Europeans.