This article (originally published on June 19, 2017) discusses an important topic in “real” baseball. As many of you know, baseball is both my hobby and my profession, and I manage to keep my fandom alive by separating fantasy analysis from the actual game, working hard to keep them distinct. That means, for the past four decades, whenever I step into a ballpark, I do so as a fan.
As a baseball fan, all that matters to me are taking in the sun, rooting for the home team, beer and hot dogs (yes, rooting for beer and hot dogs is correct). It’s how I grew up, in the $1.30 upper deck seats at Shea Stadium, and how I feed my fandom now.
I enjoy visiting different parks. My report card isn’t anything special compared to some people, but I have been to 20 current major league parks, six MLB parks that no longer exist, and over two dozen minor league parks from Triple-A down to the Appalachian League. Still, no matter where I am, it all boils down to the four core pleasures: sun, rooting, beer, and dogs.
With the sun, it’s either there or it isn’t; I have no control over that. Rooting takes many forms, depending on who’s playing; I can root for a team, specific players, or just enjoy a good game. Beer is beer, I’m afraid. I know what I like, and hopefully there’s enough variety for me to find something cold on a hot day.
But when it comes to hot dogs, I hate to admit that I’ve become a bit of a snob. There are ways to prepare and dress the perfect frankfurter, and there are ways not to do it. Frankly (ha!), a single dog can make or break the entire ballpark experience.
I’m not an elitist, but I know there are gourmet hot dogs topped with everything from jalapeno cream cheese to corn chutney to poutine. I enjoy those in the right settings. However, we’re talking about ballpark hot dogs—the blue-collar favorite of our culture. Still, certain standards should be upheld. Every concession stand that surpasses those standards earns points in my view. It’s really not that complicated.
In fact, I have developed a scoring system. (You’re not surprised, right?)
The Bun
The foundation begins here. The best bun I ever had was at a small standalone shack in Railroad Square, Nashua, NH (sadly, no longer there – the shack is gone, but Nashua still exists). It was made with egg-enriched dough and freshly baked on site. Yes, it wasn’t at a ballpark, but there’s no reason an innovative concessionaire couldn’t upgrade to a similar level. So, let’s score it this way:
+5 Doughy fresh like it was baked this morning
+3 Fresh, but nobody seems to know when it was baked (ask!)
+1 Was probably fresh once.
-5 If there is even one stale spot, we’re done
Dog Composition
This mostly comes down to taste. The beefier the better, but the taste of some dogs is clearly dulled with fillers. I can’t describe it any other way, but I know it when I taste it.
+5 Big, bold and beefy (it’s “big” if the sign says “Jumbo”)
+4 Beefy, of more average heft (but size isn’t everything)
0 Any sized bland brat (cheap meat)
-5 Odd color, odd taste, you have no idea what toxic sludge it’s been soaking in
Dog Preparation
This is actually more important than the dog composition because even the best-constructed frankfurter will be left lifeless if it’s cooked improperly.
+10 Split-and fire-grilled (sliced length-wise and cooked over an open flame)
+8 Fire-grilled
+7 Split-grilled (sliced length-wise and cooked face down on a grill)
Why are the prep methods above so great? The char covers more square footage and adds lots of flavor. Unfortunately, these are all hard to find.
+5 Grilled (pretty much standard in most parks)
+1 Boiled (+1 only because the dog is served hot. Otherwise, ugh.)
-2 if the dog is served pre-wrapped.
Pre-wrapping the dog is an insidious practice intended to conceal the all-important prep. Was the dog cooked this morning, or last Tuesday? If a concessionaire stockpiles wrapped dogs in a warmer to keep up with demand, that just means he needs a bigger grill or more workers. This is not rocket science, people.
Toppings
This is where we separate the men from the boys. In the end, the toppings define the dog. The more offerings, the better, but some are just… yum. Admittedly, I have my own personal preferences, so feel free to adjust these scores to your own palate.
+1 each Standard: yellow mustard, sauerkraut, onions, relish
+2 each Premium: brown deli mustard, hot peppers, hot sauce, chili, cheese
+3 each Mega-premium: braised onions, cole slaw, local and ethnic toppings
+0 Faux dog toppings: ketchup, barbecue sauce
Ketchup is a hamburger condiment and has no business being anywhere near a frankfurter. Similarly, barbecue sauce is terrific on chicken and pulled pork. Just because you pass by the dispensers with a hot dog in your hand doesn’t mean you should sully your sausage with an unsuitable sauce.
-1 for each condiment that’s in a packet (that’s just unforgivable)
So, there you have it.
By means of setting a bar, here are the two best hot dogs I’ve had at any ballpark, and their scores:
CitiField, Flushing NY: Maybe I’m biased having grown up in New York, but they seem to do dogs right. The CitiField dog is average heft beef (+4) grilled (+5) on a fresh bun (+3) with all four standard toppings (+4) plus cheese (+2), brown deli mustard (+2) and braised onions (+3). Total score = 23.
But wait…
Hunnicutt Field, Princeton WV: This was the oddest of places to find a great dog, but the Tampa Bay Rays affiliate in the Appalachian League takes great care with their franks (at least they did back in 2008 when I was last there). The Hunnicutt dog is (was?) average heft beef (+4) split-and-fire-grilled! (+10) on a doughy fresh bun (+5) with yellow mustard (+1), onions (+1), chili (+2) and cole slaw (+3). Total score = 26.
Special kudos on the cole slaw, as most establishments would not risk food-borne illnesses by offering a mayonnaise-based topping on a hot summer day. Thankfully, this was a night game.
I remember thinking that sauerkraut and brown deli mustard would have made it a perfect experience. Yes, I know this dog well from writing about it for Baseball HQ, and I was able to pull up that file from July 25, 2008. Yum.
The goal in hot dog scoring is 20 points. If an offering can’t reach or exceed 20, it’s just a dreary old dog, a workaday wiener, a bourgeois brat.
In the past, I have done ballpark road trips and written about the dog experiences. The first road trip, in 2008, covered five Appalachian League parks in 53 hours, during which I created this hot dog scale. In 2017, I visited five Florida State League parks in 46 hours. That league was High-A level back then, but the dog scores were 5, 12, 16 and 18 – clearly Low-A. I did not have a dog in Clearwater; when your dining options include Beers of the World, Tijuana Flats, West Shore Pizza, Abe’s Grouper Nuggets, Gourmet Grilled Cheese Sandwiches and Delcos Steak, you sacrifice research for a better dining experience.
You just do.