
Pittsburgh is like the west side of Chicago with a few skyscrapers dropped in. It's a workin’ folks town. That lends itself to certain types of food establishments. Memories of this are probably why I was delighted to walk by this hole in the wall. This sort of place does not, and probably will never exist in San Francisco. The ill-fated Carousel Dog came close, but it had too much of a "surfer" air. That, and California municipalities are always so concerned with "health codes" and mandatory display of "grades" like "A" or "100%" so that customers can feel safe. I don't want to know what the grade of this place is. I’d wager that, in some fluorescent-faded corners, there's still greasy residue of the first batch of fries that was submerged in 1965. This is the culinary equivalent of a classic carnival ride.
The menu is sparse, consisting mainly of sausages and punctuated by "Large Fish Sandwich"–apparently a specialty. Had I no dinner plans tonight, I might’ve braved that particular monster. Given that I was just passing by, I had their daily special: two natural skin hot dogs with "all the trimmings" and a lemonade. Oh, they were nummy! The stove grilled dogs had a nice snap to them, and noticeable spices, made all the better by the mustard and raw onions slathered between the fresh buns. It was fortunate I had picked up some Altoids at my previous stop. Also good that I was on the go too as there are no seats in this place, just a counter that runs down a mirrored wall.
I enjoy a good greasy spot like this sometimes. I thought I had found a couple near where I work in downtown SF, but eating east of the Mississippi illustrates that they have nothing on the coronary-inducing power of cities like Chicago or Pittsburgh.
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