I was talking to my mom today, and she said how she didn’t want to read the Food section of the newspaper, as it was all about hot dogs, and she didn’t think she would ever eat another one of those again. She then mentioned how Dad and I loved her chili dogs when I was growing up.
It is indeed true. I’ve always been a fan of burgers more than hot dogs, but around the 4th of July, Mom would decide it was time for hot dogs. According to Dad, his diet when he was a young immigrant in New York City consisted of hot dogs and coffee. Apparently, Dad did not lose his love affair with the American staple when he moved to the West Coast.
I remember the vivid colors of the meal. The yellow mustard, the red ketchup, the green pickle relish and the green onions and the bowl of orange-tinted shredded cheese. I think I liked the toppings more than the hot dog itself!
There was a giant bowl of potato chips (the rippled kind, usually sour cream and onion flavored).
It was one of those fun weekend/holiday meals that was always a hit. Simple food, simple people, simply a good family memory.