That’s not grease glistening–it’s something heavenly. It’s the perfect nightcap to a raucous night with friends in Hollywood. It’s what warms your soul and body inside and out on a cold 60 degree night in Los Angeles. And around USC, it’s the taste of football on Saturdays before games and the victory dance after trouncing (or destroying) teams like Ohio State.
In preparation for the game, I decided to make dirty dogs to bring a taste of LA to Nashville. Oftentimes, when I’m homesick, or just sick of Southern food, I think of what I could be eating in LA; and what defines Los Angeles seems to be burgers, tacos, and DIRTY DOGS. It’s an amalgamation of American hot dogs and Mexican ingenuity. It’s loved by the populous and hated by the government. It’s something out of a book, really. The dirty dog is so simple to make–hot dog, bacon, onions, peppers–yet no one makes it at home. It belongs in the domain of street food, to be eaten moments after the scents of bacon waft into your nasal passage.
I tried the best I could–and while they were good–they were no match to the LA original. Maybe it was the lack of danger and dirt that comes from illegal immigrants cooking bacon-wrapped hotdogs on makeshift and unsanitary carts with only their bare hands. Or maybe it wasn’t that at all. Maybe I wasn’t drunk enough to fully enjoy the flavors of pigs cooking in their own flesh. It does take a certain amount of nerve and inebriation to willingly pay 3 dollars for something most people would run away from while sober. I think the extra oomph in flavor comes from not knowing how I’ll fare after eating a street dog. Will I be ok or will I be on the toilet for half of the next day? That surge of adrenaline from taking the risk with street food is only inducible in that setting. Needless to say, eating these made me wish I was back in Los Angeles tailgating along Trousdale with the Trojan faithful. But until then, I’ll have to settle for this.
