the dinner docket: November 2010

I've waited in many a long line for sustenance in my lifetime. Forty-five minutes at Clinton St. Baking. An hour-and-a-half at Northern Spy. Two hours at Shopsin's. I'm no stranger to the gut-wrenching hunger, the continually dashed hopes each time the hostess calls out a name that isn't yours, the resentful looks from your dining companions who are undoubtedly questioning why they ever decided to befriend you.

Then I went to Hot Doug's. No companions, no hostesses, no overwhelming hunger. The thirty minute wait in the ever present line out the door of this self-proclaimed "sausage superstore" should have been a breeze. What I had not counted on was the mind-numbing, balls-to-the-wall Chicago chill. In November. Five minutes into the wait, I suddenly yearned for a buddy to clutch onto for warmth, or a scantily clad hostess I could direct my misery-fueled sadism at. You dare withhold hot dogs from me? At least I'm allowed to wear a coat, skank!

But alas, there was no hostess behind the modest brick facade - only Doug and his bevy of cheerfully efficient cooks and servers. Doug Sohn is a man obsessed with the wiener. If this isn't obvious from the collection of cute sausage paraphernalia lovingly arranged in the glass counter or the various wiener witticisms jotted on the walls ("There are no finer words in the English language than 'encased meats', my friend."), it is clear from the quality and craftsmanship of the brats, wursts and other tubed meats that Doug features on both his permanent and daily menus. There is no question that you can get a great Chicago dog here, but the real draw at Hot Doug's is the variety of specialty sausages that are available on any given day - taut, snappy casings stuffed with everything from the standard pork or chicken to the more exotic kangaroo, alligator or bison. And then there are the toppings, which are often equally as inventive and unexpected: blackberry mustard, double cream Brie, coconut flakes, plantains.

Specials Menu

Foie Gras and Sauternes Duck Sausage with Truffle Aioli, Foie Gras Mousse and Fleur de Sel

I began my meal with one of Hot Doug's most acclaimed offerings (and a permanent fixture on the specials menu): the foie gras and duck sausage dog. Often times, a lowbrow dish that attempts a high-end reincarnation by way of a barrage of lavish ingredients ends up being underwhelming and gimmicky, or sickeningly overwhelming. Not at Doug's. The luxurious duck flavor of the sausage, the delicate richness of the foie gras mousse and the tempered tang of the truffle aioli operate in perfect tension with one another. The duck sausage is absurdly juicy and tender, with a faint but noticeable snap. Doug's hot dog buns are in a league of their own. Densely chewy but soft (think a more pillowy French bread), they are just as much a part of the show as the meat and toppings, and unlike regular hot dog buns, don't deflate into a mushy mess against the surface of the dog halfway through eating.

Wild Rice and Asiago Cheese Bison Sausage with Roasted Yellow Pepper Mayonnaise and Irish Porter Cheese

That week's Game of the Week was a wild rice and Asiago cheese bison sausage, topped with roasted yellow pepper mayonnaise and Irish Porter cheese. This dog assaults your senses with its depth and complexity. The bison sausage was dark and smoky, with a thick and snappy casing that lends a delightful texture to the dish. But it is the visually arresting beer-veined Irish Porter cheese that makes this dog. It perfumes the meat with its hoppy piquancy before dissolving into an intensely flavorful creamy emulsion in your mouth.

Duck fat fries

In addition to regular fries, Hot Doug's offers duck fat fries every Friday and Saturday. Perfectly crisp on the outside, they shatter into potato-y shards upon each bite, revealing a creamy, mealy interior. In short, probably some of the best fries I've had to date. They even managed to retain their winning texture after they had cooled off.

I have to admit that I questioned the greatness of Hot Doug's at several points along my lengthy journey to this fabled wiener joint. For instance, when I was walking along a lonely stretch of road after taking a city bus to the middle of some small freak-ass suburb on the outskirts of Chicago.