Lucky Marty Monday

I decided that I wanted hot dogs this morning. You know, because hot dogs aren't just for breakfast anymore. Plus, I simply wanted a hot dog. My house, my rules.

So I open the freezer and pull out a package. And as I wasn't really paying much attention - how hard is it to fill a pot with water, put in the hot dogs, place it all on the stove and turn a burner on (quiet, Ron) - I set them to cooking while I went to check email and not play solitaire, I swear!

When the dogs were ready I went and got the buns, and then mustard from the fridge. Taking two of the tube steaks from the boiled water, I did then notice something odd. The pot seemed more full than it should have. I began counting the hot dogs.

The two on my plate made two. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven...seven left. That meant the pack of eight hot dogs actually had nine! Nine! Nine hot dogs! Count them. Bwa, ha, ha!

I sure hope the rest of the week holds such pleasant surprises. 

Hot diggity sonora dog

I love hot dogs. My taste in cuisine (notice the pun?) is and always has been quite simple. Hot dogs are right at the top of that list. Hot dogs, I will argue, should be their own food group. I used to wonder if they could ever be improved upon at all.

The people of Tucson and surrounds have demonstrated to me that yes, even the ideal food can be improved upon enough to satisfy the most refined palate. They introduced to the world the sonora dog, which my daughter told me I would love. She was right.

It's a hot dog wrapped in bacon. You would think that was enough, but wait: there's more! There's green chile, diced onions, mustard, mayonnaise and, be still that southern part of my heart, pinto beans.

You can't pick it up and eat it. You have to use a knife and fork, there are so many toppings. And every single bite is hot dog heaven.

If you love hot dogs like I love hot dogs, you must try a sonora dog. You. Simply. Must.

I now have a reason to return to the Great American Southwest. Oh, uh, um, to visit my daughter of course.

On food

For the Catholics of the world this is a fast day, being Good Friday. So I figure, why not tempt everyone of you out there (you know who you are) and talk about food?

Left to its own druthers, my personal menu is simple. My diet consists of quick and easy eats. I could eat pepperoni pizza and hot dogs all day long. In fact, I have.

Burgers and tube steaks beyond hot dogs, brats and Italian sausages and the like, are high on my list. Straight up friend chicken is tough to beat; while on the road lately I have renewed my friendship with Colonel Sanders. And what, I ask you, can beat a good plate of steak and potatoes?

As I think about it, the only area where I like variety is with pop. Being a lifelong and proud Detroiter, I find the many Faygo flavorings delightful (except fruit punch, which they apparently don't make anymore, and good riddance too). Vanilla ginger ale is great, when you can find it, although with regular ginger ale I prefer Canada Dry. Yes, my Detroit roots make me feel as though I'm two-timing Vernor's. But it ain't like I don't like it. I just like Canada Dry ginger ale better. And Schweppe's. But after that, it's all you, Vernor's.

Oh, and finally, I love fried fish perhaps best of all, and that makes today bearable for me. I will break my fast this afternoon with a fish dinner from St. Francis Cabrini here in the D. So all that other stuff simply isn't particularly tempting to me this day. If it is to you, my work here is done.