If you don’t know
“Chicago Hot Dogs,” this wonderful essay on Chicago dogs, memory, and the role of food, you are in for a treat. And if you don’t know Daniel Pinkwater, get ahold of some of his books; I suggest
The Snarkout Boys and the Avocado of Death or
Alan Mendelsohn, The Boy from Mars. If you have young kids at home, find
Wempires, or
The Frankenbagel Monster, which both include some fine--or at least fun--food writing. A man who enjoys food and enjoys writing about it is our author, and you will thank me for turning you on.
The essay begins with a poem:
With rue my heart is laden
For golden fries I had,
For many a Polish sausage
When I was a Chicago lad.
Not Shakespeare, but we can all deeply appreciate the sentiment. I am resisting quoting more because the piece needs to be read as a whole (it’s not long).