| You know that, here at Local Saute, we're Foodies for sure, but we're not the pretentious type of foodie who turns a snobby nose at a good ol' fashioned, barbecued hot dog. Nevertheless, we do have our limits, and putting ketchup on a hot dog is walking that fine line. Does ketchup taste revolting? No. Is it kind of a reminiscent-to-your-childhood guilty pleasure? Not necessarily. With french fries, perhaps... and maybe on a hot dog for some of you, but I just can't do it. I guess that makes me a bit pretentious to not allow ketchup (no matter how "fancy" it may claim to be on the label) on my hot dog, but dammit, at least I'll eat a grilled hot dog, unlike some of you out there. |   |
Anyway, so here's what I did - and I promise I'll bring this full-circle to ketchup: I pulled the hot dog of of the grill, jammed it in a traditional, white-bread hot dog bun that was lightly toasted on the grill, then I striped the right side of the hot dog with some Dijon mustard. On the left side, I striped the hot dog with Sriracha sauce. In fact, I doubled the stripe of Sriracha. Damn right, I did.
Of course, the first person to see me with a presumed red stripe of ketchup on my hot dog practically burned me at the stake for such sacrilege. My first response was, "Hey, screw you, pal. You're the one drinking a macro-brew, you heathen." But then, all I had to say to put the jackal in his place was, "Relax, bro. It's not ketchup."
"Ooooooooh," I thought as I watched his eyebrows perk upward toward his hairline. He was obviously perplexed, yet prematurely impressed "Now you're intrigued, are you?" I thought. I had him right where I wanted him.
"What is it, then?" the bro asked, lowering his can of bro-brew to the side of his board shorts.
Just to rub it in a bit, I threw caution to the wind and I turned the "gotcha" table on him a bit and said, "What? You can't smell it?"
He came closer, nose-first, and I quickly pulled my delicacy of processed meats away. I said, proudly, "It's Sriracha sauce."
"Ooooohhhh..." he said, as though I were Criss Angel, suddenly levitating my Sriracha-and-Dijon-laced hot dog before his very eyes
"Yeah, man. Grilled dog on a toasted bun with Dijon mustard and Sriracha sauce. Epic, bro. Have you even tried Sriracha on a hot dog, bro?"
And the rest is hot dog with Dijon and Sriracha history. I win, and every single, solitary bite of it was absolutely delicious... you know... for a hot dog.
Of course, the first person to see me with a presumed red stripe of ketchup on my hot dog practically burned me at the stake for such sacrilege. My first response was, "Hey, screw you, pal. You're the one drinking a macro-brew, you heathen." But then, all I had to say to put the jackal in his place was, "Relax, bro. It's not ketchup."
"Ooooooooh," I thought as I watched his eyebrows perk upward toward his hairline. He was obviously perplexed, yet prematurely impressed "Now you're intrigued, are you?" I thought. I had him right where I wanted him.
"What is it, then?" the bro asked, lowering his can of bro-brew to the side of his board shorts.
Just to rub it in a bit, I threw caution to the wind and I turned the "gotcha" table on him a bit and said, "What? You can't smell it?"
He came closer, nose-first, and I quickly pulled my delicacy of processed meats away. I said, proudly, "It's Sriracha sauce."
"Ooooohhhh..." he said, as though I were Criss Angel, suddenly levitating my Sriracha-and-Dijon-laced hot dog before his very eyes
"Yeah, man. Grilled dog on a toasted bun with Dijon mustard and Sriracha sauce. Epic, bro. Have you even tried Sriracha on a hot dog, bro?"
And the rest is hot dog with Dijon and Sriracha history. I win, and every single, solitary bite of it was absolutely delicious... you know... for a hot dog.
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