In saying that no self-respecting Chicago hot dog seller would offer ketchup, Cecil asserted in one of the Books that
that is what the hot dog seller would be thinking if anyone asked for ketchup.
What was Cecil paraphrasing? It sounds vaguely familiar.
I don’t know the answer but a friend who just went back for a visit to the the windy city (and that don’t refer to the weather) informed me of that condiment faux pas last week. The only quote I can give you is from Sudden Impact in a scene where the cops are investigating a “38 caliber vasectomy” victim. The only thing that grosses out Detective Callahan is a fellow officer munching on a hot dog, “Nobody, nobody puts ketchup on a hot dog!”
Cecil’s column can be found on-line at this link:
Why is there no ketchup on a properly made hot dog?
The column can also be found on pages 95-96 of Cecil Adams’ book “Return of the Straight Dope”.
Why not put this in the «Comments on Cecil’s Columns» forum? 
I agree, the phrase “behold this creature that walks like a man” sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.
I think javaman was just being polite, since his question wasn’t strictly about the column.
I, on the other hand, am possessed of no such politeness, and I will happily take the opportunity to bump a thread upstairs to the Big Guy’s forum. Perhaps we can draw Cecil out with an answer.
Check this out: Planet of the Apes (2000). It doesn’t have anything to do with the OP, but it could.
Is it from Swamp Thing?
When I was but a lad, my Mother would often serve me a boiled hot dog, cut into wheel-shaped slices, and garnished only with ketchup. It is one of the fondest memories of my youth, and yes, I was born and raised in Chicago.
Having reached my majority, and no longer being afraid of mustard, I have of course taken to the standard Chicago-style hot dog. (Though no tomatoes and extra hot peppers for me, please.) Nevertheless, if someone wishes to intimate that ketchup on hot dogs is morally unconscionable, or that my late, saintly Mum was somehow in error, then I shall have to ask them to step outside.
My biggest beef (pardon the pun) is the whole notion of a “Chicago-style hot dog.” Growing up here, I had never heard of such a thing. It was always just a hot dog. That’s how they made them. Of course. Then, somewhere around the mid-'80s, Ann Landers of all people praised them in a column, and suddenly all the stands were advertising “Chicago-style.” I remain convinced that it’s all an advertising gimmick or a media hoax.
(I do not doubt that persons in the less-civilized regions of this great land of ours must suffer through inferior sausage offerings. But the name “Chicago-style,” especially used in Chicago itself, is a recent and disreputable phenomenon. It rather implies, in an insidious, post-modern, culturally-relativistic sort of way, that other dogs are not inherently lesser creations, but merely different, a completely valid alternative response to their environment. To which any right-thinking person must say, “bullshit”! There ARE universal, immutable truths! If not, then you may as well believe that what they serve in New York qualifies as pizza, a self-evident falsehood if ever there was one.)
Hmm, I seem to have wandered into MPSIMS…
figment of media
Hey, I’m right with Cecil on the ketchup thing, but as to the rest of it: a real hot dog has the following (aside from the dog and the bun) mustard, chopped onions, chili, and slaw.
Oh, and they taste best when you buy them at a speedway.
They don’t call them Chicago-style in Chicago now, do they? There shouldn’t be a need: If I order a dog in Chicago, I’d naturally assume that it’s Chicago style. On the other hand, if you’re in Cleveland, say, then the qualification would be necessary, since a Clevelander would not expect a Chicago-style dog (and in fact would likely be upset with the lack of ketchup). A similar example would be cheesesteaks: Anywhere in southeast Pennsylvania, one refers to such a sandwich as a cheesesteak, no qualifiers. In every other region of the country, however, they feel compelled to use the appelation “Philly steak” for the abominations they serve. Of course, they don’t even have the same justification as folks referring to Chicago-style dogs, since hot dogs are everywhere (in some form), but no city but Philadelphia makes cheesesteaks.
Oh, and if anyone’s keeping score, I like my dogs with ketchup, mustard, relish, onions, kraut, cheddar, and chili.
Chronos –
That is in large part my objection. Chicago hot dog vendors DO indeed often use the appellation “Chicago-style.” Of course it is not be necessary; it’s merely the evil influence of advertising and media, and stupid people (vendors and customers alike) who don’t know the difference.
No kraut or chili for me, please – but hey, whatever floats yer boat. A man willing to permit ketchup is in no position to be judgemental in such things.
I personally think the words of my old friend Brian can help put this whole crazy ketchup business to rest.
I don’t know if he coined it, or copied it, but I’ve used it ever since:
**
Ketchup goes with ANYTHING! ANYTHING! And those of you that think differently… well, you’re entitled to your opines.
:wally
I have asked the Master and he says he was not quoting a specific work but rather conflating a couple vaguely remembered bits. The first was some pulp fantasy story he read in his youth in which the callow protagonist aspires to become the lover of a witch. At last she agrees to take him on - and turns him into her familiar, a black cat. The concluding paragraph or two included an address to the cat which begins, “[Forgotten interjection - perhaps it was ‘behold’] creature that once was a man …”
Since the creature ordering the hot dog with ketchup was still nominally a man, Cecil amended the above with “walks like a man,” taken from the pop song of similar title by the Four Seasons.
And you think he just dashes this stuff off.
Funny, I could have sworn it was from the Bible.
“Lord, behold thy creature…”
But…uh…nevermind.
It is. It’s from the apocryphal Books of Cecil.
Datapoint. Hot Dog Heaven, by Art Taylor, Spectator (Sep. 20-26, 2000) The Triangle’s (NC) Arts and Entertainment Newsweekly: As for the list of ingredients, it’s the same as always: mustard, chili, onions and slaw–but no ketchup, unless you’re willing to pay $12.95 for the small bottle on display on a shelf behind the counter.
“No ketchup was Grandma’s big rule,” said Poniros. “She realized years ago how much it ruined her chili if you put it on a hot dog. What a shame to go to all that work to make her chili and then just taste the ketchup.” While his grandmother was known for getting perturbed if people asked for ketchup repeatedly, Poniros can mostly leave it to his customers to preserve the heritage: “If someone asks for it, everybody turns and looks at them, like ‘Whoa, this guy’s new.’ Everybody thinks it’s funny.”
And, in that case, you’re entitled to have ketchup on your ice cream.
One redeeming thing about the term “Chicago Style” - it does indicate correct culinary choices, at least concerning the two examples brought up here - leave the ketchup off the dog, and when I want a pizza I’ll take “Chicago Style” over “New York” style any day of the week.
Cecil’s list of toppings runs a little long, but at least he got the important ones first: mustard, relish and onions. Stop right there. Why mess with trinities.
Here’s a smack on the back of the skull from an ex-Clevelander (and consider yourself lucky…when the REAL Clevelanders show up, there’ll be blood in the streets).
Franks I consumed as a youth included ONLY good sauerkraut and a light brown, horseradishy mustard. We called it “Stadium mustard,” as it was the kind served up at Cleveland Municipal Stadium. It became available for sale in local stores in the late 1950s.
“Johnny Hot Dog,” supposedly the oldest hot dog stand in Cleveland (located the southwest corner of the West Side Market), serves them this way, or with chili. Real simple, real basic.
“Chicago-style” hot dogs are interesting to a cuilinary sociologist, and I eat 'em when I’m in the Windy City, but, my goodness, isn’t that an AWFUL lot of crap to put on your hot dog?
When I’m forced to eat hot dogs, I want them with ketchup, and maybe onions, but no slaw or <i>chili</i> (ugh).
The rest of you are weird and can keep your stinkin’ hot dogs. Besides, I prefer burgers.
Hands down, the WORST hot dog I ever ate in my life came from a cart on the streets of downtown Cleveland.
(My girlfriend went to school at Case Western, and assures me the dogs out there are much better.)
And yes, Chicago hot dogs DO have an awful lot of crap on them. Mustard, onions, hot peppers and celery salt – that should be enough for anyone.
It’s fun to watch people get all testy about what should or shouldn’t be on a hot dog.
After all, this is a hot dog we’re talking about, not filet mignon. Getting upset about this has to be down there with castigating someone for having their toilet paper roll the ‘wrong’ way, whichever way that is.