Station Street Hot Dogs. Pittsburgh, PA.

In-between napping and procrastinating packing-up my apartment for another move I heard about a new hot dog restaurant in the East Liberty neighborhood of Pittsburgh. Normally I go out of my way to avoid that part of town since it’s filled with hipsters and douchbags, once I heard that this encased meat emporium was the brainchild of Kevin Sousa, my favorite local chef I knew I had to check it out.

However I didn’t want to do it alone. So I opened my phone and went down my list to see if any of my buddies wanted to embark on this adventure with me. With every call I got excuse after excuse like, “I’m visiting my dad in the hospital,” or “Dude, I’m too hung-over to eat.”

After realizing none of my buddies had their priorities straight I decided to go solo. So I hopped in my car. Put the address into my trusty GPS and headed out to hipster central. When I pulled into the parking lot I was extremely happy. The place looked like a dump. Instead of taking the shell of hot dog stand that had graced the neighborhood since 1915 and turning it into something fancy it appeared they kept the structure and dining area intact from it’s last renovation, which if I had to guess was in 1970 something. They even kept the original logo, which I think adds to the charm and awesomeness of the place.

While standing line my stomach was growling loudly. It was my body’s way of letting the three indecisive girls standing in front of me know that I was hungry and couldn’t wait for them to decide what kind of dogs they wanted. As they blankly stared at the menu and asked the guy behind the counter what each item on the menu tasted like. As he tried to describe each one I got even hungrier. At the moment I was about to Hulk out, jump behind the counter and make my own they reached a decision, three plain dogs. How adventurous.

Now that they were done I stood at the elusive front of the line. The guy behind the counter asked me what I wanted. Now I consider myself an expert at this. I should know what I want before hitting the road. Not this time. This time I caught a case of indecision. As I blankly stared at the menu I could hear the stomach growling of the person behind me. I didn’t want to feel his rage so I placed my order. Since I was possessed by hunger I’m going to admit that I went a little overboard. Here’s what I got:

One Chili Cheese Dog

One Banh Mi Dog

One Kimchi Dog

One order of duck fat fries

One Diet Coke

After placing my gluttonous order I grabbed a seat at the counter and waited. I glanced at all the other customers enjoying their food and couldn’t wait to be one of them. Five minutes later they brought me my tray and I started digging in.

I started with the chili cheese dog. I was kind of expecting a regular old hot dog with onions, chili sauce and cheese sauce. Station Street exceeded that. The dog was 100% beef with natural casing, covered with onions, arsenal cheese curds and homemade smoked briscut chili. Growing up in Detroit I thought nothing could beat a Coney Dog from All-American Coney. I was wrong. This was the best chili cheese dog that I’ve ever had. As I finished the last bite I was wishing I ordered three of these delicacies but I had to move onto the next one.

I’m going to make a startling admission here, up until 2009 I never had Vietnamese food. I never knew the joy of pho or a bahn mi until I moved to Seattle. The moment I had them they became a regular staple of my piss poor diet. After leaving Seattle for Pittsburgh I’ve had to endure sub-standard Vietnamese fare. For the last ten months I’ve been searching for the best bahn mi in the steel city. I had no idea that I’d find it at gourmet hot dog joint.

The Bahn Mi Dog consists of a beef dog, pork liver, pickled cucumber, pickled red onion, jalapeno, sweet chili and cilantro. The first bite had a kick. Sweat started pouring down my brow. I didn’t know if I could handle the heat. Each bite was more intense than the last. My mouth was on fire. I was almost out of Diet Coke. I really wanted to walk to the counter and get a refill; if I did that this dog would win. I couldn’t let that happen so I chomped away until Bahn Mi dog was distant memory.

If they didn’t go overboard on the spices this would be one of the best hot dogs I’ve ever tasted.

After getting a refill I walked back and saw the Kimchi Dog staring me in the face. I didn’t know if I could handle another spicy dog. I wanted to give-up. But I couldn’t. I had to devour this baby.

The Kimchi Dog is made of 100% beef, kimchi, kewpie mayo, nori and bonito. I was expecting it to have more of a kick, but it had more sweet than spice. A very pleasant and delicious surprise.

After finishing it I took a look at my duck fat fries and grabbed a few. After stuffing them into my mouth I realized I had enough. I couldn’t go on, the food had beaten me into submission. I needed a nap.

Station Square is the best hot dog joint in Pittsburgh. They only serve 100% beef dogs that have that snap with almost every bite. Since they’re located where hipsters congregate they do have a veggie option. If you find yourself in the burgh for any reason you need to get your ass in here immediately. 

Penned by none other than THE SCHNEIDS.

Austin Dogs: Featuring Frank & Bestwurst.

My pal Josh meandered his smug ass down to Austin to ride motorbikes without a helmet, watch the Dallas Stars play, and get friendly with mutual buddy Ryan's couch. It sounds like it was a real freedom lovin' weekend filled with beers, bikes and bountiful meats. Here's what Josh had to say in his own words:

Sampled dogs at two Austin locations, one old and one new(ish).

First were the new guys: Frank Hot Dogs & Cold Beer. These guys make their own sausages on site, with tons of options and combinations. I tried one of their featured creations, The Notorious P.I.G. This sucker is House-made pork, bacon, jalapeno & sage sausage with macaroni & cheese, Texas BBQ sauce. Not traditional, but absurdly delicious. I felt terrible about myself afterwards, which is always a sign of hot dog success. I washed it down with a local brew on draught: the Hops & Grains Pale Dog. Maybe not very hopped by my NW standars, but an immensely drinkable beer. I'm sure a dozen of them or so go down quite smooth on a hot Texas day.

Next I sampled from Bestwurst, a veteran food cart that resides on 6th Street. I went for the headliner on their small menu: Bratwurst German style pork sausage, double ground with nutmeg and pepper. Their standard fixins are onions, kraut, curry ketchup, and spicy mustard. I ditch the ketchup on my dogs whenever possible (a Superbeast tradition). Amazing stuff here, everything a street dog should be. Quick, cheap, steaming hot, and better than most things you will ever put in your mouth. This is worth fighting through the crowds of college douches that gather on 6th every night.


I told Josh to give a shout to old Geoff and Northcutt at Frank. They weren't around. Probably touching dicks with some Hollywood mogul, 'bout ready to invest in their encased meat empire.

Guess My Celebrity Dad

Buddy Northcutt and I rolled out to Los Angeles this weekend to see some family and friends and do a little Frank business. We accomplished everything famously and thanks to said family and friends we had a great time between all the hot dog talk. Maybe the most enjoyable part of the trip was the downtown bar tour orchestrated by buddies Kent, Fieron and Nathan. We started off by hitting Cole's for some sustenance before the real business started. Classic French Dip. Super tasty.



Cole's is also home to The Varnish where I had this refreshing concoction called "The Fairbanks" It was Bulleit Rye and apricot, a giant ice cube and other fancy hoo ha I don't remember.



Around the halfway point of the evening we ended up at the lovely Jessica's bar, The Falls Lounge. After a couple PBR's and shots Fieron pointed at Nathan and said to me "We're gonna play guess my celebrity dad."

Me: "Ron Moranis!"

Fieron: "You mean Rick Moranis. No. Try again"

Me: (Second guess fell victim to a possible black out )

Fieron: "No. Try again"

Me: "Luke Skywalker!"

Fieron: "Bingo!"

(I paraphrased some of that shit because I really don't remember exactly how that all went down.)

Flash forward a couple hours, Jessica is still pouring the whisky and PBR's and the buddies tell me that Nathan really is Luke Skywalker's son. And to clarify were talking about Mark Hamill and not the 2 Live Crew here *Edit* Buddy Kendra advised I did not choose the best 2 Live Crew song so it has been updated. Nathan's a pretty rad and funny fella. If you meet him ask him about a bulldog in a bed and a girl in a closet. Definitely a new buddy. Suck on that Star Wars nerds, a 10 hour bender with Luke Skywalker's kid.

But that was just Saturday. Sunday was we got into the dogs. First off we hit Berlin Currywurst. Met the owners who moved to LA from Berlin to open up shop. I maybe even impressed them with my Currywurst knowledge and that I had eaten my weight in it on multiple trips to their homeland. Their set up was simple. You picked the sausage, the heat level and the sauce. Completely authentic and just like the wurst karts in Hamburg. We pulled three varieties, Bockwurst with traditional curry sauce, Bratwurst with ginger orange Charlottenberg and Paprikawurst with Mitte which was a lemon garlic spiced sauce. Super good folks doing a cool thing. Make sure you go check it out.



Next on the agenda was checking out buddy Tyler's Handsome Coffee lab which happened to be across the street from Wurst Kuche. Due to being stuffed from Berlin Currywurst we had a couple coldies there and caught up with TJ before scooting off to watch the Lakers choke in the last 2 min of the game. Ol' WK has been chronicled here a couple times so I won't waste your peepers on it again.

We capped the night at Dog Haus in Old Pasadena. This place was a real treat and we weren't even hammered. Really good, fat beef dogs dressed up in a bunch of creative ways like we like. Lots of options but NCT and I went for the gusto pulling in The Little Leaguer and The Grand Slam respectively.

Grand Slam, smoked bacon, tater tots and a fried egg:



Danny smoochin his chili cheese frito pie dog.




Whirlwind dog trip but it was a gooder. We'll be back LA.


p.s. do all flights look like this? :

Rosamunde Sausage Grill. San Francisco, CA.

Following in the footsteps of our good buddy and certified "tube dude" Geoff, I checked out Rosamunde Sausage Grill in San Francisco. I was new to the city, a real Johnny Come Lately, lil' kid new boots fresh off the highway with nothing but an unkempt beard a maniacal craving for encased meats. This joint does not disappoint, buddies.

I wrapped my meat hooks around the Weisswurst. A veal, onion and leak masterpiece recommended by the gent working the counter. He told me to put ketchup on it. My reply? "No dice newb." The dog was a flavorful taste explosion, accessorized with kraut, some spicy peppers and stone ground mustard. The real winner at Rosamunde is the grilled french roll. The perfect amount of resistance before busting the seams on a delicious dog.

That's a good looking sausage right there.

My pal Erin rolled with the Chicken Cherry. She let me nibble off the tip. I'm not a fan of chicken sausages, but this one had a nice bite with a clean, sweet finish. The kraut plussed up the sour. All in all? Not too fucking shabby.

Here's Erin deep-throating a quality dog. Her thoughts? "Shit is good, man." 'Nuff said.

Puka Dog!

Fact: Buddies will go to great lengths to track down the best dogs out there. I'm no exception and this entry here took me to the Hawaiian Islands with an additional flight to hop from Maui to Oahu to make sure I didn't miss the culinary marvel that is the Puka Dog.

But first before we get to the Puka I had a couple other dog encounters on this island of pork lovers that I'll tell ya about. First was this lonely li'l fella at the Komoda Store & Bakery in Makawao.



This dag had a strange mayo/mustard on it. Not the best dog I ever had but I felt obliged to give it a home. I suggest you stick to the badass pastries like the guava filled doughnuts they make daily.



Next up outside the Whalers Village Museum there was a place selling Hula Maid Pineapple Dogs. Couldn't pass that up. This was a perfectly fine dog. A little sweet and a nice snap. Nothing you have to seek out but if you find yourself in Hawaii and see a place selling them you might as well get into it.



The next thing I stumbled on was how Hawaiian's will stick anything on sticky rice and wrap it with seaweed, even hot dogs. It's called Musubi.



Spam Musubi and Spam in general are also very popular as proven in this beautiful pic.



But my favorite thing was Longanisa Musubi. Even better I ate this sucker on a 10,023 ft volcano called Haleakala



But as mentioned in the first part of this post, the main thing I was looking forward to on this trip was Puka Dog

We spent most of the day at the Pearl Harbor memorial and ended up hitting rush hour to get across town to the Puka spot. While Maui is mainly two lane, slow pace roads, Oahu was like being in fucking Dallas. If you've ever been to Dallas you know that equals S-U-C-K. There was even a moment when we wondered if we could actually make it and get back to the airport to fly back to Maui. Things got tense buddies but I put the pedal to the metal and made it happen.



The Puka spears that toast the inside of the bun.



The multitude of condiments



We both went for the Polish with Yancy picking pineapple relish, mild lemon garlic and lilikoi mustard. I got hot lemon garlic sauce, banana relish and guava mustard.





It was worth the trek hombres. Oh and Maui is super awesome too.

"What The Fuck Kinda Question Is That?"

This story is a stop on my latest travels which took me back to Chicago and then on to San Francisco. Two of my favorite cities where I put down a multitude of pork related items. I'll break this globe trot into a coupla posts.



Let me start by saying "God Bless The Wiener's Circle." It's not because I had a staggeringly great dog, or that it had some kind of glorious dining space. It was because that's how they answered my question.

Back up to 12 in the AM and buddies Farley Bookout, Steve Walters, Jay Ryan and Bobby Dixon and myself are leaving Pitchfork and heading home. I says "we should get a dog." Farley says "Again?" So I whipped out my trusty internet portal and looked up hot dog joints. Lookee there, The Wiener's Circle is on the way. Jay says "Call and see if they are open"

Ring, Ring:

WC: "Yeah"
Me: "Hi, what time do you close?"
WC: "What The Fuck Kinda Question Is That?" "5AM Motherfucker!" "Fuck You Bitch!" *click*
Me: "We're going to The Wiener's Circle."

As soon as I got off the phone it dawned on me where we were heading. The hot dog place most famous for cussin' your ass for anything and nothing. At midnight it was pretty packed but they were moving people through the line quicklike. I stepped up ready to order a red hot and a double char wondering if I'd get cussed. "Which char motherfucker?" I got cussed, again. I got off way easier than the gal behind me who tried to pay with a credit card. "Cash only bitch! Cash only motherfucker!" as they shooed her away from the window flappin' a towel. That's also all the time they needed to toss my order in the window zippity-doo.

A Vienna red hot and a double chardog with the works:


This was on the counter. You bet your sweet ass I put money towards the cause.

'Merica Dogs.

Let me start this post by saying it's a damn crying shame that my good buddy Josh Kaulius hasn't graced the pages of Buddies & Hotdogs yet. The dude is a prime candidate for the Meat Sweat Hall of Fame. I've seen this guy curl up on a barroom bathroom floor after going into some weird esophagus shock caused by eating too many hot wings. He was escorted out of the place and sent directly to the hospital. Now that's commitment.

On the 4th of July, Josh and I got together for a little lonely, sad dude pity party. We cured our our ills by way of grills. We stuffed our faces and drank the blues away with a hand selected assortment of high-octane IPA's. We laughed. We watched a few episodes of Pawn Stars. We made fun of people. We listened to Outlaw Country. It was a real, real nice day. 'Merican style.



Here's Josh making a mockery of the all-beef frank. He puts ketchup on his. Gross. **Editor's Note: Josh claims this wasn't ketchup, but rather BBQ sauce, sriracha, or some chipotle tabasco type sauce. His credibility has since been restored.



A nice little close-up.



The bountiful harvest includes terriyaki marinated pork loin (personal recipe), steak filets, shrimp and bacon wrapped jalapeno skewers (personal recipe), and some delicious all-beef dogs that didn't make it into this picture. 'Merica. Fuck yeah.

Dog in the Park. Seattle's Finest.

I've made the pilgrimage to mecca, and it happens to be smack-dab in the middle of downtown Seattle. Dog in the Park serves the best hot dog in Seattle proper. This my friends, I assure you.



The owner is this Greek dude. I can't remember his name for the life of me, but he was super friendly and talkative. It made the experience of standing in line so much more pleasant. He recognized me as a bona fide Tube Dude in seconds flat.

Dog in the Park is nestled downtown in Westlake Park. It's kind of a weird location. One part stand, one part brick and mortar store front. There's a couple of picnic tables to sit on, but most everybody was grabbing a dog to go while on their lunch break.

The menu consists of pretty standard fare. The magic comes with the preparation. Here are the options:

All-Beef.
Kosher All-Beef.
Polish Sausage.
Louisiana Sausage.
Chicken spinach feta Sausage.
Chili cheese dog.
Turkey dog.

I went with the standard All-Beef. For only $3.25, that's a real lunch time bargain for Seattle. I had two and was more than stuffed.



World-class all-beef franks, split down the middle and grilled to perfection. Crispy, toasted buns. Grilled onions and cabbage provide just the right amount of crunch. Cabbage you say? Yep, and I ain't talking slaw. Big leafy pieces of cabbage grilled up on the flat iron. Delicious.



None other than The Schneids getting neck deep on Dog in the Park's famous All-Beef.



The flat iron. Simple and efficient. The perfect tool for a seasoned meat wrangler.



Round 2! The Schneids wouldn't get his meat hooks out of the way for this shot. He was holding on for dear life.



It's been a while since I've had my mug grace a post. I took this one myself because The Schneids' mitts were covered in mustard, onions and cabbage remnants.

Dog in the Park is in my opinion the best dog I've had in Seattle. They've managed to master simplicity, which I find some of the gourmet joints frequently skimp on. You can't beat the price and the great service either.

Just so he doesn't cry about it, I have to give props to my buddy Dru for this find.

The Schneids vs. Oki Dog.

On a recent production trip in Los Angeles, good buddy The Schneids and I wanted to stuff our jowls with some world class dogs. We decided to give a place called The Stand a try, after an afternoon trip to Amoeba Records.

There were a few problems with this plan. First, The Stand was a good 45 minutes away from Hollywood. Why is that a problem you ask? Well, The Schneids was driving, and if you've ever sat passenger in a car driven by The Schneids, you know just how excruciating that experience can be. The man slows down for green lights, and never tops 40 miles an hour. He can't park to save his life, and he is slightly directionally challenged. I have very little patience for terrible drivers, and while The Schneids is one of my ace number one pals, that vein on my forehead was doing one armed push-ups.

So after hitting every light in Los Angeles proper, we found ourselves in a strange corporate office park not too far from Beverly Hills. This didn't seem right. We parked the car in an underground ramp and proceeded to take 3 sets of escalators up to an open area with a huge fountain. A security guard looked at us a bit bewildered. We were basically in a office building lobby on a Sunday looking for a hotdog. "We're closed today guys, sorry."

I looked at The Schneids. His lower lip was trembling under his beard. His eyes were filling with blood-red rage. His ears emitted thin wisps of shit-hot steam. His fists clenched in that "Smash! Destroy!" sort of way. This was bad.

Quick, we need a back-up plan STAT! The Schneids went from hungry for hotdogs to having a full on appetite for destruction.

I remembered that buddy Geoff recommended Oki Dog, the legendary punk hangout. It was way back towards Hollywood on Fairfax. Could I stand another 45 minutes in the car with The Schneids behind the wheel? There was no time to think.



Introducing Oki Dog. Bar none the most disgusting restaurant I've ever eaten at. Not only were there geriatric Aryan Brotherhood guys playing arcade games, but the building itself was seemingly held together by chicken wire and cockroach carcasses. There were more washed out prison tats then napkins in this joint.



The Schneids was one step away from having a nervous breakdown upon arrival. We had to walk a block to the cash machine which only ignited his fury.



The menu board. Complete with boogers, smeared blood, sun-dried chili cheese, and anaerobic flagellated protozoan parasites.

I'll have one Oki Dog please!



Here's The Schneids wondering what he could craft into a shank if the shit got ugly. Still shaking with rage.



I ordered the Oki Dog and the lady boy working behind the counter was nice enough to give us a huge basket of fries. The guts of the Oki Dog are infamous:

1 tortilla.
2 hot dogs.
Copious piles of pastrami.
Chili.
Cheese.



Like a baby with a bottle, The Schneids quelled his blood lust for a bite of this harbinger of bowel havoc. His thoughts? "It's good." 'Nuff said.



Behold, the innards of the most intestinally compromising food stuffs known to man. It took me 4 days to sweat the salts out of my body after eating this petri dish of nitrates and fly shit.

The Schneids had to jump on a plane immediately after we ate. I said a little prayer for the passengers of that fateful flight. There is no vacuum toilet sturdy enough for that type of industrial level gastrointestinal emission. Godspeed.

All in all, the actual Oki Dog was pretty damn good. That said, I wouldn't step foot into this restaurant after dark, with a girl, or without packing some serious weapons grade giardia meds.

A Li'l Local Flavor

This is gonna sound like I'm a total dick. When people ask me why I opened Frank the true story is buddy Northcutt and I were bitching about Austin's lack of a good dog. The year we first said "we should open a fucking hot dog joint" Sonic tied for best hot dog in town. No...Shit...Chet. So as much as we wanted Austin to have a really awesome dog like we got in Chicago or NYC no place really delivered besides a cart called Chris' Little Chicago (Sadly closed down right now)

Most places simply sucked. So we opened a joint and it's pretty dang good. But it's also been a year and a half now, pushing into two. So I thought I'd venture about town and see if anyone kicked it up.

First stop was Mighty Fine. It's a burger spot run by the Rudy's BBQ folks. Rudy's is one of the better BBQ gettin places inside the city limits so I was hoping for good things. They offer a "chopped dog," ok, I'm intrigued. But alas that intrigue only lasted until the dog hit the table.

I can't bitch that it was false advertising because it is as advertised, a regular ol' wiener, chopped up, loaded in a bun and covered in chili. Considering how tasty Rudy's is I would have hoped for chili with a little more kick in the ass and they shoulda used 6 to 1 dogs instead of 8 to 1 to fill that bun hon. If they had offered beanie weenie in a bun, that woulda excited me.



Speaking of Chili with a kick in the ass. The day before South by Southwest geared up buddies Andy Vastagh from Boss Construction and Clay Hayes from Gigposters.com hit the Texas Chili Parlor with the li'l missus and myself. You celluloid buffs may have seen parts of the Parlor in the Death Proof part of Grindhouse.

We've been going here for 15 years or so and I've never looked past the burgers and chili. Mainly because the chili is made with hunks of meat not ground beef and it's badass. They serve Fritos as sides so I rock a Frito chili pie burger always. Well this time I decided to see if they had a dog on the menu. Fuckin' A they did. And they also had a pork loin, green chili and white bean chili on that thing too. I mixed that shit up. Half XX red and half white pork covered in Fritos, sour cream, cheese and relish. Even though we were a few coldies in at this point and this is a shit pic, that was a deelish dog right there fellas.



I decided to bookend this exceptional Parlor dog with another average dag. This trip was essentially the same as being a block away from Taco Bell at 2:45 AM and making the call to hit the drive through. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Ladies and Gents Der Wienerschnitzel...

I honestly didn't know we had one in Austin. Seems they belong somewhere else. Kinda like In and Out Burger should only be in California, Der Wienerschnitzel feels like that too. Don't get me wrong, I ain't baggin' on the Schnitzel being in town it just surprised me. One of my favorite bands, The Descendants, sing about it so it's historical relevance in pop and tubed meat culture makes it gold in my book.

Hit this place with buddy Lenny and the dogs were as expected, fast food dogs, fast food taste. They are trying to hip it up a bit with the "limited time only bacon wrapped street dog." I'm no dummy, I bought one. And a chili cheese with a side of chili cheese fries. Like I said when it was over I had that same feeling as the morning after the Taco Bell drive by after a night of Wizard Party. Not so hot.