There is still a mystique in the wide, wide world of sports, call it the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat if you will.
One night last week I sat down in front of the tube and it was a slow night. NCIS was a rerun and I’m tired of watching hillbillies and gators or catfish or moonshine. Every time I want to watch the Kardashians I have to change the picture on the TV to the Wide Screen format so I can see all of their butts.
So I was delighted when the remote found a gathering of some of the world’s top athletes competing in the Westminster Dog Show. Something about a bunch of dogs trotting around in a circle that tickles my competitive spirit. Too bad they don’t do tricks, but fortunately David Letterman has that covered with his “Stupid Pet Tricks” segments on “The Late Show”.
Anyway, halfway through the exciting competition I got hungry for…you guessed it, a hot dog. But not just any kind of hot dog. I wanted a manly man dog, a full pound of meat byproducts wrapped in a synthetic casing.
Call these giant frankfurters what you want. Danger Dogs, the Widowmaker, Nuclear Dogs or Homewreckers. I call them good and I needed one. And I won’t grill or boil my hot dogs. I like to wrap them in bacon and deep-fry them. Anything else is just a wiener on a bun or what some call a Daschund Dog.
Rus’ Atomic Dog
1 1Lb. Hot Dog
2 Slices Bacon
Pickled Jalapeno Slices
Grated Mexican Cheese Blend
Sliced Raw Red Onion
1 Giant Bun
Wrap the dog in the bacon slices and secure them with toothpicks. Drop the dog in the deep fryer and let fry until dog starts to split. Remove and drain on paper towel. Place on the big giant bun and dress with chili, jalapeño slices, cheese and onion.
You can throw anything you want on your own version of the atomic dog. Cole slaw, sauerkraut, even make it a Chicago Nuclear Dog with sliced tomato, dill pickle, yellow mustard, onions and sport peppers. Use your imagination, just make sure you deep-fry it and have a bottle of Pepto close at hand.
These are true street dogs. When I’m walking down the boulevard and I pass a greasy spoon with franks cooking in the window, I make it a point to walk in and ask the guy in the paper hat behind the counter, “How much is that doggie in the window? And can I get extra mustard?”.
Aarf , aarf everybody. Woof.