I’ve definitely been involved in some pretty sad food train wrecks. The first time I ever cooked with leek, I tried to use the green bit and threw away the white bit. When I was younger and made brownies for the first time, I put in a cup of salt instead of sugar. And there was the time I thought I could get away with making yorkshire puddings even though I had no eggs.
But I have to admit, my biggest food confession isn’t a cooking one, but rather an eating one. Deep breath, here it goes…
I LOVE HOTDOGS.
LIKE SO MUCH. My memories of hotdogs are clear and delicious. My first memory was my Opa giving me a bbq’d hotdog to gum on when I was a baby and I guess I’ve just never looked back. Another, where I rode my bike to the 7-11 when I was thirteen years old and bought one for 99 cents. 99 CENTS! It was so tasty and inviting looking and because I couldn’t really ride a bike very well anyway, I sat on the grass near the shop and ate my deal of the century dog in a glorious state of nirvana. Until buses kept stopping thinking hotdog girl was waiting for a ride.
I’m not exactly sure what it is about these weiners that really grabs me. I’m not at all particular about brand or cost. Actually, I’ve found the cheaper the hotdog, the tastier it is. You know the ones. “May contain beef and/or pork”. AND/OR?… I know, I should hide my face in shame. It’s really hard to find a good hotdog in New Zealand. You’ll find a lot of fakes, wrapped in a weird red coating or filled with cheese (Sizzlers are not hotdogs you guys…) but a typical North American frankfurter, is actually not as easy to find.
Zoey the dog, voluntarily joining the hotdog bandwagon.
The two best hotdog options I’ve found in Auckland are Hellers “American Style Frankfurters” (although they suggest you BBQ or fry them when a good old boil does the job just fine), and Fritz’s Weiners, which are easily the best food option at Eden Park. The first, boiled in a fresh white bun with ketchup (tomato sauce for you NZers, I’m really showing my North American colours now). The second, grilled with sauerkraut, mustard and fried onions – hallelujah.
My defining hot dog moment was my very first time visiting New York City in August. NYC in August is hot. You know when you walk past a steam vent and that brick of heat just tackles your face? It’s like that all summer long in the Big Apple. It’s also this insane food mecca of some of the best restaurants in the world. And the best hotdogs. It brought me back to my 99 cents hotdog days, as it’s a cheap way to eat in a city that can steal all your money. (It stole mine and spent it on dresses and sunglasses).
I proudly marched up to the street vendor, asked for a diet coke and a hotdog and then sat down on Madison and East 42 street, closed my eyes and enjoyed what was probably the best hotdog of my life. No one felt pity for this hotdog enthusiast. In fact, EVERYONE was enjoying hotdogs. I was with my people, man! And I’m pretty sure the buses just kept on driving by. But my eyes were closed, so who really knows.
Your turn…. what’s you biggest and baddest food confession?