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| A blurry beacon in a hazy night. |
In order to define the Perfect Hot Dog (or PHD if you’re
acronym-inclined) we must first establish three irrefutable facts:
Fact One: No hot dog worth discussion exists outside of
Chicago.
Fact Two: Vienna Beef
Fact Three: Finally, achieving the PHD requires the
confluence of Place (Chicago), Ingredients (see Fact Two), Cost (reasonable),
and, crucially, Time.
In order to illuminate the importance of that last element,
Time, I fear that we must depart our solid footing on the brick wall of Science
and Reason and wander onto the slippery sand dune of Hypothesis and Anecdote.
Imagine if you will, dear reader, those single digit,
pre-dawn hours when night scandalously mingles with morning. It might be 3:00
or 3:30am near a busy intersection. Imagine the darkness. Imagine the
confusion. Picture in your mind’s eye the drunken denizens of those nameless
hours making their way in various grades of stumble towards speeding taxicabs
or late-night buses.
