Paulette Licitra

I wish I could have a dog. My husband says no to a dog. What I would like is a pug. In fact, I want two pugs. One black and one tan. This way they could look at each other and get confused. And I could look at them and laugh a lot. Which is why I want a dog, they're funny. (I think babies are funny, too, but those I don't feel compelled to own.)

In the meantime, I satisfy my dog craving by eating dog food. Not dog food made for dogs, but dog food made for humans.

You know, the stuff baseball games are made of? What put Nathan's on the map (you know, Nathan's: denizen and definition of Coney Island)? Sold on city street corners, a backyard barbecue staple...HOT DOGS!

How did the hot dog ever get a name like that, anyway? Is it because of its resemblance to a schnauzer? Is it because of those cartoon images, implanted in our minds at age 2 1/2, of meat trucks flying down streets, a loose string of hot dogs flapping behind, followed by a pack of hungry, barking dogs? (Did that ever really happen, anyway?)

The dictionary says the term "hot dog" dates back to 1900. In some linguistic circles it's associated with the interjection "hot dog," as in:

Which just goes to show how good the hot dog really is. And even though it gets suspicious mystery meat awards, the hot dog is a rather flavorful mouthful. No matter how sophisticated one's palate has become, the craving for a hot dog eventually makes an entrance.

And we all have our favorite way to eat them! (Come on, admit it!) Mustard is, of course, the most popular accompaniment. Then comes sauerkraut. Closely followed by pickle relish. Then sautéed onions (in that tomato-y sauce). People even wrap hot dogs in orange American cheese and melt it. Hmmmmmmm! And every hot dog, takes that least versatile of breads (have you ever used it for anything else?) the hot dog bun. Or you could wrap a hot dog in some pastry, but then it's no longer a dog, but a pig...in a blanket. The most amazingly rapid piece of evolution in all of science.

How you cook a hot dog doesn't really matter -- grill it, broil it, bake it, boil it...the darn things are cooked already anyway. Like a thick stick of bologna. I remember as a kid I used to just bite into one right out of the plastic package. My Mom even encouraged me. I also used to eat them sliced down the middle between two pieces of white bread slathered with mayonnaise. (Well, we all know kids eat weird stuff.) My adult equivalent to that dish is broiled hot dogs with mashed potatoes. My husband even likes it. And he's the one who won't own a real dog.

Which is probably why he won't eat hush puppies. No, not the shoes. The little fried corn cakes. They say these little fritters were tossed to hungry dogs milling around the campfire to keep them quiet. "Hush, puppy. Eat this." (I have to try this on my neighbor who blasts rap music.)

Recipe for Hush Puppies

Why is it that dogs are always hungry? They could eat a whole bowl of their dog food, then come sniffing and begging for your dog food. Maybe dogs are the secret gourmands of the planet. Running off to write reviews of everything they've sampled...ever interested in that next piece of cuisine about to go down your throat. I wonder what they have to say about the hot dog? They probably call it a trumped up piece of bologna given a fancy name.

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