Either You Love Hot Dogs Or You’re A Communist

Superdawg

6363 N. Milwaukee Ave.

Chicago, IL

Some people don’t get my enthusiasm for hot dogs.

But if you don’t get excited about a trip to Chicago’s famous Superdawg…

…well…

…you just might want to consider the possibility that maybe you’re a Communist sympathizer.

I get a flutter in my stomach reminiscent to my first childhood encounter with Mickey Mouse at Disney World when I round the corner and get a glimpse of those hot dog caricatures, Maurie and Flaurie, mounted on the rooftop of Superdawg.

Maurie’s creepy, glowing red eyes tells my stomach that it is in for a treat unlike any other on earth.

Chicago’s love affair with hot dogs and sausage is easily traced back to the immigrants from Central and Eastern Europe who settled in the Windy City.

And Superdawg is the quintessential hot dog joint in the quintessential hot dog city – not to mention an idyllic last meal on the way to hell, otherwise known as Chicago O’Hare International Airport.

Packaged in delightful red and blue boxes featuring whimsical bits of wisdom from Maurie like, “Your Superdawg lounges inside,” and “From the bottom of my pure beef heart…thanks for giving me this chance to serve you…”

…the anticipation is almost unbearable as the old- fashioned car hop delivers my tray of food to my car window.

While the convenience of carside service is appreciated, trying to keep all the toppings from plopping onto my suit was a bit challenging.

In Chicago, folks like their dogs “dragged through the garden” – which means topped with an unwieldy combination of mustard, peppers, onions, tomatoes, and pickles.

Fortunately I was given a generous supply of napkins which I used to construct a barrier between my food and my Brook Brothers tie.

The hot dog was an extra thick, juicy tube of beef enhanced by the tang and spice of the onions and sport peppers, and balanced with sweet, neon green relish.

Tightly packed into the box with the hot dog is a pile of crinkle cut fries. But not being a huge fan of french fries, I also ordered the “Superonionchips” – a towering red box of fried onion petals.

Too much batter. Not enough onion. Probably won’t order these again.

But I saved the best for last – a Whoopskidawg!

Oh. Yeah.

Thanks to the large number of Polish immigrants who decided to settle in the Windy City, Chicago is known for its Polish sausage.

And the Whoopskidawg just might be the most delicious Polish sausage I’ve ever tasted.

Covered in tangy, sweet BBQ sauce and topped with diced onion, and placed in a savory onion roll bun, the Whoopskidawg is even more exciting than the Superdawg…

…as difficult as that is to conceive.

Both smokey and sweet, the Whoopskidawg just might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted in this city.

And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that one of the most exquisite sausages on earth is named after a country that’s suffered more than its share from socialist dictators.

First Poland bore the brunt of the Nazis — then the Soviets.

But neither Hitler nor Stalin could snuff out their delicious tube of processed meat.

Of course, it didn’t stop Chicago-native Michelle Obama from trying to eradicate hot dogs from the school cafeterias.