Haute Cuisine

If a person is what a person eats, look at me I’m a hot dog. The humble blended sausage has been getting short shrift for too long now. It is time to hit it out of the ballpark and reinstate it to the plate.
Often misunderstood, the construction of the dog is plain simple. Pig parts, snouts, tails, bits of gristle, the little muscles on the side of the animal that makes its skin twitch to scares flies are mixed with an exquisite blend of mystery spices and large amounts of salt. Most hot dogs are made to this recipe, but some makers now use the surplus parts of other beasts, like cute little chickens, dumb-ass cows or any other creature fool enough to come too close to the machine. This mixture is all ground into a greasy mash and extruded into a length of cleaned small intestine, or synthetic tubing and twisted, like the arms of a balloon animal to a regular length, typically just shorter than a bun.
Preparation of the frank can be as easy as dropping it live into boiling water, frying it in a pan or searing it to a crispy charcoal pencil over a campfire or on a barbecue grill. Perhaps the tastiest dogs are prepared by the time honored traditional method of nuking them in a microwave. Whether you like them just barely warm and slimy, crisp and cardboard like or somewhere in between, remember that the microwave will bring out the best of that saline meaty flavor, mmm, tasty and delicious.
A good bulking agent, like a bun, tortilla, flexible cracker or slice of bread, does more than just hold the dog and relish, it also helps to conceal and insulate the blistering, inferno heat of a snausage fresh from the nuker so your tastebuds are fully exposed and scorched thoroughly. In fact, the best way to eat a dog is just as it is pictured above, speared by fork, dipped in grey poupon, served up hot on a clean plate in a dirty kitchen.
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