Chili Dogs

Howie Bulka

Sep 9

12 min read

Inspired by Pink's Chili Dogs among the many others we've tried (and devoured)

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The Best and the Wurst In Us

I remember my first hot dog fondly. Not the first hot dog I ever ate, but rather the first dog that won my affection. It was the hot dog of my youth, a boiled Hebrew National frank on a squishy white Wonderbread bun with French’s mustard. I ate them two at a time with Lays potato chips. This was my happy meal, and it was perfect, for a time.

My parents ate sausages as they always had, with pumpernickel and homemade dill pickles. Good sauerkraut was impossible to find in Los Angeles. Instead, they reminisced fondly about ‘der zoyerkroyt-makher’, the sauerkraut maker, who traveled the environs of Warsaw, going from house to house with some sort of giant cabbage slicing contraption pulled behind his horsedrawn wagon. The townspeople would gather their cabbages for this giant of a man and watch in awe as the sauerkraut maker, holding a head in each hand, shredded the cabbage into wooden barrels. He would alternate the cabbage with layers of salt, such that by springtime, the cabbage would have fermented, transformed through the miracle of malolactic fermentation into sauerkraut.

The kosher butcher on Fairfax wore a hairnet over his yarmulke. He greeted my mother like an old friend in his unabashedly bloody apron, “Vos makhstu, Esther? They would chat for a moment, kibitz, the way people did back then, talking across the counter as he made his way from the cold case to the slicer and back again. There was always fat knackwurst, a quick supper when my dad worked late, a Kielbasa ring for after-school snacks which we wrapped in a slice of rye bread before going out to play and all-beef franks, from Chicago no less. The butcher would lay out each item on a swath of white paper pulled from a roll mounted on the wall, placing each fleshy-pink nitrated wonder on the scale for my mother’s careful inspection. With a grease pencil he would jot down the price of each item on the neatly folded paper packages. ‘Gut Shabbos, Esther” and we were on our way home.

Imagine my delight, a ‘Husky’ little boy, with difficulty discerning ‘essen’ from ‘fressen’, when suddenly the world of adult sausages and franks was revealed to me. It may just as well have been the torah wrapped in those white paper packages. Soon I was transfixed, smitten with everything ‘wurst’, finding joy in the snap of the casings, the sly smokiness, and the subtle differences in spice and texture that distinguished one sausage from another. I soon discovered that rather than boiling, a frank could be cooked in a frying pan, split lengthwise and cooked hard so that the cut side gets charred and crispy. Wonderbread buns ‘goyishe broyt’, in my parents’ eyes, seemed a poor choice when our breadbasket was filled with rye bread, challah and bagels. A broiled knackwurst split open onto an onion bagel with melted Swiss cheese and deli slaw is life affirming, if not life changing.

The years between Bar Mitzvah and attaining a driver’s license are particularly hard in Los Angeles. The city has a lot to offer a boy in search of delicious things, but a transit system isn’t one of them. Without wheels, I was for time, land locked on the west side, dependent upon the kindness of strangers to provide transport to the Mecca of fast food that awaited me. But in the meantime, it wasn’t so bad. The Apple Pan, one of LA’s top burgers, was walking distance and there was Marty’s, Home of the Combo. The Combo was Marty Bassman’s masterpiece, his legacy to his sons Howard and Jeffrey, but mostly Howard, who would continue to operate Marty’s for some fifty years following Marty and Florence’s retirement. It would be an exaggeration to say that the combo was legendary. The L.A. fast food scene is the big leagues when it comes to burgers and dogs. The town that gave the world Pinks, Fat Burger and the Oki Dog does not assign greatness frivolously. Nonetheless, some would argue that the Marty’s Combo was a contender, a surprisingly delightful construct, comprised of a split and grilled all-beef frank sitting on top of a classic Marty’s chili cheeseburger. Mayo on the bottom bun, Mustard on the top bun, American Cheese of course, hold the lettuce and tomato.

Slathering a hot dog or hamburger with chili is more than just a daring exercise in excess, it’s a game changer, a fast-food paradigm shift. If the rules of the game allow chili, then there are no rules. If you can put chili on your dog, then I can put bacon, guacamole or kimchee on mine. The Oki Dog made famous at Danny’s in West Hollywood was composed of two franks, chili, pastrami and cheddar cheese all wrapped up like a burrito in a giant flour tortilla. Pure Genius. South of the harbor freeway the Mexican Street Dog was born. A hot dog wrapped in bacon on a bun with grilled peppers and onions and topped with ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise and pickled jalapeno. Que Rico! Los Angeles, with its car culture, awesome ethnic neighborhoods and oddball lifestyle was becoming the birthplace of what the late LA food critic Jonathon Gold called ‘trans global fast food’. It was time to put aside my childish things.

In March of 1974 I got my driver’s license. At sixteen, I was a hot mess. Bad hair, bad skin, and bellbottoms. I smoked pot like a house on fire. Theres no doubt I was a danger to myself and to others but my buddies and I, we knew how to have fun. In our parents’ cars, we took to the LA freeways like ducks in water. Freedom never tasted so sweet. Regular stops included Pinks, Pops, Original Tommy’s, Astro Burger in Hollywood, Cassel’s downtown, the Apple Pan on the west side, Pie N’ Burger in Pasadena and of course Marty’s in the neighborhood. If funds were low there were twenty-nine cent chili dogs at Der Wienerschnitzel and in moments of self-loathing chili had recently been added to the condiment bar at 7-11. But we were not savages. In our travels, we had become discriminating, erudite, able to argue the relative merits of one joint over another, which we did constantly and passionately. We were fast food connoisseurs.

Pinks on La Brea was the gold standard. Hands down the best chili dog in LA. Not until Earle’s on Crenshaw opened in the early nineties, would I be willing to even discuss the possibility that Pink’s was not LA’s best chili dog. Over the years Pink’s has become the iconic LA fast food destination, a social media phenom and a guilty pleasure for Hollywood celebrities and civilians in the golden age of legalized marijuana and semaglutides. There is always a line and for good reason. Pinks are perfect dogs. An extra-long all beef frank with a natural casing on a fluffy steamed bun, dressed in yellow mustard, minced onion, American cheese and of course that famous Pink’s chili, which they proudly admit is manufactured for them in LA according to Betty Pink’s original recipe.

Any great chili dog is a careful construction where the proportion of the ingredients is as important as the ingredients themselves. We can agree to disagree about whether the frank should be all beef, all pork or something in-between but any hot dog lover knows that a natural casing is far better than a collagen casing or God forbid, a skinless frank. How big should a wiener be? Six inches, eight inches, a foot long? Should the wiener extend past the ends of the bun? Is the bun a Martins Potato Roll, Turano or made to spec at a local bakery. Is the bun

side-split or one of those new-fangled top-split, ‘New England’ style buns. The Pink’s dog meisters know to put one single line of mustard down the length of the dog. Too much mustard, ruin the dog. Pink’s places sliced, not shredded, American cheese across the bun and then proceeds to build the dog. This creates structural stability as well as a warm and fuzzy sense of well-being. A dog assembled with too heavy a hand, overflowing with cheese or chili, will break apart or disintegrate into a gloppy mess, which is both tragic and unforgivable. But a classic Pinks chili dog is, from the first bite to the last, a tidy mouthful.

It would be many years before Jonathon Golds prediction of the emergence of ‘trans global fast food’ would be fully realized, but there was no denying that in the mid-seventies the LA fast food scene was evolving. The civil rights movement of the sixties empowered the Chicano Movement of the seventies. A decade later ‘Brown Power’ had shaped the politics and the cultural character and of the city. At the same time an influx of Vietnamese and southeast Asian immigrants arrived in Los Angeles following the fall of Saigon in 1975, establishing communities in Monterey Park and the San Gabrial Valley. Latin and Asian food was unleashed and suddenly my world expanded once again. Burgers and dogs seemed rather parochial, when Birria and Bahn Mi were on the menu. Soon our stoner caravans were taking us east of the harbor freeway into strip malls and ethnic markets. There was El Tepeyac in Boyle Heights and Casita del Campo in Silverlake, Al and Bea’s off the Ten and of course Cielito Lindo on Olvera Street for Taquitos with Avocado Salsa. I ate dim sum for the first time at Paul’s Kitchen in San Pedro and my mind was blown.

But soon we were seniors. Zits were becoming a problem. Flatulence wasn’t as funny as it used to be. Entrance exams and GPA’s required a modicum of sobriety. University High, my alma mater, had the number one drug abuse problem in the LA Unified School District. Some of us had already been lost. It had been a great run, fun times for sure, but alas there comes a time to settle accounts. Obsessed with self-gratification, we had allowed ourselves to become slovenly, pot heads with soft bellies. Dating would require a new act. College was calling. It was time to be better, eat better and become adults. And so, we did.

I had simple intentions when I started writing the Recipe of the Month for May. Mike the Manger, whom I often feel indebted to, was craving a corndog. Always the people pleaser, I sprang into action. Not every wiener is well suited to being enrobed and deep fried, so I gathered a sampling of the leading supermarket brands including the legendary Kirkland Signature Dinner Frank, ostensibly the same wiener that’s sold in the Costco cafés and tested them in various iterations of the batter. Turns out that Nathans Famous Jumbo Restaurant Style franks, are the perfect corndog dog. Fodder for a future Recipe of the Month, I promise. More importantly, while eating my way through this great variety of retail wieners, I rediscovered that the Costco dog is a world class American style wiener. I was smitten. The Costco dog is moderately spicy, in a good way, slightly smokey, juicy and at a quarter pound it’s also hefty and satisfying. It reminded me of the Pink’s dog. Screw corndogs, I was now on a different mission. A mission to create a great chili dog.

There are a lot of things called chili in the canon of American cooking. There is Texas style chili, the much loved ‘Bowl of Red’ aka Chili con Carne. Chili con Carne is traditionally prepared with diced or cubed beef and recipes rely on ground spices. The addition of beans, rice or noodles is strictly forbidden. Tomato products, paste, diced or puree are frowned upon. Fritos or Tortilla chips served on the side are acceptable. Texas chili is based upon Chili Colorado the traditional Mexican stew made with cubed beef slowly simmered in a complex red sauce based on whole dried red chilies. Chili Verde is another much loved Tex-Mex chili variation. It is traditionally made with pork in a tart, piquant sauce of tomatillo and green chilies. Chili con Carne, Chili Colorado and Chili Verde are delicious things, but none of them are what comes to mind when we think of a chili dog.

The taxonomy of chili offers a second avenue of exploration, the lesser-known family of regional American chilis which includes Oklahoma Style, Springfield Chili and Cincinnati Style. All these regional recipes use ground beef, ground spices and tomato products. Oklahoma Chili uses fresh diced tomato and a relatively simple spice blend of cumin, cayenne and garlic powder. Springfield Chili relies on copious amounts of melted beef suet to the obtain the ‘Soupy’ consistency and layer of greasy orange goo that we find desirable, but it is Cincinnati Style that best exemplifies what we really want on a chili dog. If you’ve ever been to Skyline Chili or any of the other ubiquitous chili parlors that operate in metropolitan Cincinnati, you would know that Cincinnati Chili is most often served on a bed of spaghetti noodles. Order a “Three Way”, as one must, and it’s served with a fluffy pile of shredded cheese that slowly melts into the warm chili sauced spaghetti. The original recipe is attributed to Greek immigrants who passed through Ellis Island, were inspired by the hot dogs they ate in Coney Island, settled in Detroit and then migrated to Cincinnati. I’m skeptical, but it is a fact that in the Midwest and on the east coast, a hot dog topped with chili is referred to as a ‘Coney’ or a ‘Coney Dog’.

Cincinnati Chile is a remarkably simple preparation. Ground beef, tomato paste, water and a dozen dry spices are tossed in a pot and cooked long and slow. The beef is not browned; there are no onions to dice and no garlic to mince. The recipe calls for a unique blend of spices, including cinnamon, cloves and allspice, evidence of its Mediterranean roots. It wasn’t long before I had a big pot of Cincinnati Chili bubbling away on a back burner. After two hours of slow simmering the chili looked pretty darn good. It was finely textured, thickened and saucy, suitably greasy and kind of yummy, but it wasn’t exactly right. The seasoning hit the right notes, but it didn’t sing. As I dug a little deeper into the lore and legend of Cincinnati chili, I learned that many, I’m guessing most, household cooks, having found published recipes lacking, preferred to use the packaged blend of spices and seasonings sold by Skyline Chili, the granddaddy of all Cincinnati Chili venders. The ‘Cincinnati Recipe Chili Mix’ (pictured in the Recipe of the Month) is available on Amazon. It’s fire. I prepared my next batch of Cincinnati Chili with the Seasoning Packet, following the recipe on the package. I should note that the only difference in ingredients and procedure between my scratch version and the Packaged version was the spice blend. Instead of mixing a dozen different spices into the pot, I simply emptied the contents of the package. The results were stunning. My Cincinnati Chili was perfect. Let’s proceed.

How to Make Chili Dogs

Yields One Dozen

As noted, the “Cincinnati Recipe Chili Mix’ is available from Amazon (AFA). Martins Potato Rolls are sold at most Smart and Final outlets, but they are also AFA. Kirkland Beef Dinner Franks are sold at all Costco stores.

You are going to need to set up a steamer. At the restaurant I drop a two-inch perforated Hotel Pan into a four-inch Hotel Pans and use two-inch hotel pan as a cover. I add a little water to the bottom pan and then I put the whole shebang over a burner. Unfortunately, it’s not likely that you will have all that hardware in your kitchen, so we’ll need a workaround. I would suggest starting with a large (7-8 quart) Dutch oven. If you have a steamer basket, your home free. Kitchen Aid makes the best one. If you don’t have a steamer basket, a colander roughly the size of your Dutch oven (ten inches?) will also work. Alternatively, a standard wok with a steamer rack and cover makes a fine steamer. Steamer (wicker) baskets are generally too small to accommodate a dozen wieners and a handful of buns, but if you don’t have a rack. A plate or a bowl strategically placed can function as a steamer rack. You’ll have to monkey around with it.

Note the ingredient photo essay following the recipe.

12 Each Kirkland Signature Beef Dinner Frank
12 Each Martins Potato Roll Hot Dog Buns
1 Recipe Cincinnati Chili (Recipe Follows)
12 Slices Sliced Cheddar or American Cheese
1 cup Yellow Onion, Finely Minced
As Needed French’s Yellow Mustard

Prepare the Cincinnati Chili. Hold warm for service.
Set up a steamer (See Notes)
Finely mince the onion.
Place the Franks into the steamer. Allow to steam for 15 or 20 minutes. The Franks can be held on the steam for an hour or two.
When you’re ready to make chili dogs, put a few buns into the steamer. Just lay them on top of the franks. The buns only need to steam for a moment. Do not let them hang out in the steamer.
Open a steamed bun.
Place a slice of cheese across the inside of the bun, making a saddle in the center.
Place a hot steaming frank on top (in the saddle).
Squirt a line of mustard along the length of the dog (not too much)
Ladle 3-4 Ounces of Chili on top of the dog.
Sprinkle with a bit of minced onion.
Repeat.