Wednesday, July 20, 2011


Went to Monkey Pants to meet some friends.  After reading the New Times' ten favorites I had to try the BWDFHD.  Two franks, wrapped in bacon, deep fried, covered in cheese sauce.  Straight arterial homicide.  The way the dogs snap when bitten, the crisp greasiness of the bacon, the spice of the cheese sauce.  Halfway through the first one, I wasn't sure if I would be able to ride my bike home.  By the time I was finished, I thought for sure I wouldn't even make it out the door.  These little pups were so delicious that if the service wasn't so terrible, I would've probably ordered two more, then promptly keeled over and died.

It's a good thing I didn't order more.  Mostly because if I am going to die, I don't want it to be in a dive like Monkey Pants.  Also, because I would have missed out on this guy...
After sauteing some jalapeño, anaheim and cayenne chilis, I reduced the shit out of some monterey jack cheese and cream, mixed in the peppers, wrapped some Hebrews in thick-cut bacon, fried 'em up and laid it all on a cheap bun.  I think my version was a little better.  And I didn't have to wait for a lackadaisical topless bartender to not ring in my order after 45 minutes.  

I can't really complain about the Monkey Pants experience, though.  I ate two bacon-wrapped deep-fried hot dogs.  I'll probably even go back for more.  There is something about the corner of Mill & Southern that always results in me getting seriously drunk.  I think the whole plate was only around $6.  I can't really remember, because I was drinking.  I guess you'd have to be drunk to order that kind of garbage anyway.  Or just a hot dog enthusiast.

Dawg It! 4/5

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