Or: Why I can never hate a hot dog.
Max Sports Grille for the second time. Now that I see it as my duty to try the hot dog everywhere I go, I ordered their foot-long chili cheese and onion dog. When it arrived, I immediately knew it would be a fork-and-knife endeavor. For a chili cheese dog, it had all the right flavors, but it just wasn't working for me. Had I become spoiled by all the carefully crafted dogs I'd been eating lately? Had chili, cheese and onions become too blue-collar for my elitist tastes? Or was this dog just not that good?
It was almost painful. Choking back tears and all-beef frank slathered in chili, I mourned the loss of simple pleasures. This epic dog was everything I expected, but I just couldn't enjoy it. At the time i chalked it up to the beany chili, but in retrospect, I have to say it must have been that since I've been on this quest, since I have seen the light, a chili cheese dog is just not what I am after anymore. What used to be a favorite of mine is now a thing of the past. The way the chili turned the bun into a meaty sponge just didn't excite me. The overload of a big slice of dog with everything on it wasn't as stimulating as it used to be. I'll give chili dogs another chance, but it is very likely that I have moved on. The abundance of locally-made natural casing dogs in the valley has me craving only that. Maybe I will find a solution to my existential hot-dog crisis. Until then, I'll just have to keep eating every hot dog I come across.