You find mayo on the Mexican style hot dogs here in Chicago, too:
Toppings vary regionally, but at Delicias Mexicanas, the con todo gets grilled onion, both grilled and pickled jalapeños, tomatoes, mayo, mustard, and . . . ketchup. That’s right—ketchup. The one condiment that’s anathema to defenders of the traditional Chicago-style hot dog is standard on this street sausage.
The Diaz family believes the Mexican hot dog originated in Guerrero. Others say the Mexican hot dog was born in the northern Mexican state of Sonora, and in Tucson you’ll just as often hear it called the Sonoran hot dog. Some contend it’s more likely a product of Mexico City. And food historian John T. Edge speculated in a recent New York Times article that its origin might be much closer to home, pointing out that in 1953 Oscar Mayer was running print ads selling American consumers on the virtues of bacon-wrapped hot dogs and suggesting that “perhaps Mexican consumers . . . took Oscar Mayer at its word, wrapping American-made hot dogs in American-made bacon, and claiming the resulting construction as their own.”
I like the fact that the article picks up on ketchup as anathema for hot dogs in Chicago, but not the mayo.
And I’ve almost certainly seen mayo on hot dogs sometimes in Central/Eastern Europe. A little Googling suggests mayo is pretty common for Colombian and Chilean hot dogs as well.
Wikipedia has this pictures of a Chilean completo:
And, yes, that is mayo, not sour cream/crema on it.
It consists of a hot dog that is wrapped in bacon and grilled, served on a bolillo-style hot dog bun, and topped with pinto beans, onions, tomatoes, and a variety of additional condiments, often including mayonnaise, mustard, and jalapeño salsa.
A few really upscale ones use aioli instead of mayo.
Yeah, that’s mentioned in silenus’s link. I was going to mention the Sonoran hot dog myself (I guess it’s in the part I quoted from my link), but it’s all in his link. I sometimes get one when I visit Phoenix from a place called Nogales Hot Dogs.
Those “Danish” hot dogs I was talking about are also inserted into hollowed-out miniature baguettes. The mayo is squirted in first.
Speaking of France, I had a “hot-dog” for breakfast in Paris on my first trip overseas (1975). The thing was huge—four wieners on a full-sized baguette topped with melted cheese—and cost only four Francs ($1 at the time). I made the mistake of slathering it with French mustard before I took a nice big bite.
When the mustard started coming out of my nostrils, I stood up and said “I need a Coke!” The French family at the next table, who had been watching every move I made, burst into laughter. I could hear them thinking “Another dumb American tourist!”
This one didn’t have mayo (mustard only), but when I lived in Budapest one of my favorite snacks while running around downtown switching metro lines was to pick up one of these from Prima Pék (or similar purveyor), a pastry stall that was ubiquitous in underground stations:
Basically like a pig-in-the-blanket (maybe a pig-in-a-cage with all the slits?), though the sesame elevated it, and the spicy brown mustard inside gave it enough zip.
I missed it when I first glanced at it. I don’t know about Chicago’s version but here the bolillo is required to get enough width to pile the rest of the stuff on
I’ve amused myself about how in most of the country it’s a western omlet while in the west it’s a Denver omlet. I’m imagining in Denver it’s a Baker St. omlet because the diner that originated it is there or something.
I grew up in California, and I always heard of it as a Denver omelet.
We used to have season tix to the LA Kings, and when they moved to DTLA, those danger dogs were ubiquitous as the crowd left after the game. They always smelled so good! But I could never justify eating one that late at night. I never remember them at the Forum – probably because it was surrounded by a giant parking lot that was private property. At Staples Center, you exited directly onto city streets.
“The hot dog patties are a wonderful sales creation,” Mittenthal told Fox News. “It’s great that someone has developed a marketing tool for another way to enjoy hot dogs. But the flat hot dogs are also known as bologna.”
I was gonna say, so you mean bologna. Come to think of it, a fried bologna sandwich may be considered a cuisine of shame by some, but a well-made one is heavenly.
I was in Denver once for some conference or other. Walked into the Corner Bakery, a chain that’s okay, nothing great nor awful that I’ve seen. But there on the breakfast menu was something called an Anaheim Omelet. Huh. As t says somewhere, I’m living here in SoCal – and I’d never heard of such a thing. So I ordered one, and what did I get… an omelet that anywhere else I would have called a Denver omelet. An omelet with bacon, onions, and bell peppers. But sure, it also had an avocado slice for that real California taste, dude.
Preach it! Sometimes with the right bologna, you get that unctuous bite with some char…hmmboy! I would put ketchup on a hotdog but never on a fried bologna. I want that in its pure, virginal state. And I don’t like bologna cold at all, really.
Yeah, the only way to eat bologna is fried or in a grilled sandwich. A big standby for us kids in high school.
As for the Anaheim omelet, I’m guessing the California connection was with the avocado. It seems anything with avocado is considered Californian, like anything with spinach is Florentine.
[quote=“pulykamell, post:374, topic:964784”]
Come to think of it, a fried bologna sandwich may be considered a cuisine of shame by some, but a well-made one is heavenly.
[/quote]Hot Dogs, a chain with ei
Ted’s Hot Dogs, a chain with eight stores in upstate New York and one here in Arizona, had a grilled balogna sandwich on the board when I went a couple weeks ago. I was tempted, but jonesing for their Polish, I opted out.
One of my guilty pleasures is a raw baloney sandwich made with Wonder Bread and plenty of mayo. It’s even better if I use two pieces of meat and throw in a thick slice of American cheese. Mmmmmmmmm!
@terentii: As long as you also had Cap’n Crunch for breakfast, you’re totally reliving being 7.
Wonder bread? Check.
Mayo on both slices of bread? Check.
2 slices of baloney? Check.
Called it “baloney”? Check.
American single in the middle? Check.
