Alrighty, then. I have something to say about meats available in tubes of...well, tubes of stuff. That's right - I'm talking sausages, bratwursts, kielbasas, and oh yeah, frankfurters. Let's begin with that great American barbeque, baseball, boardwalk favorite - the hot dog.
Now, I know what you're thinking, "Eww, entrails and sawdust, insects and mice droppings, molded into an angular tube by some arcane method, indescribable by any but the upper eschelon of the meat packing industry!" That is what you're thinking, right? Well, to this, I must respond - "FIE on you, you unpatriotic so-and-so's!"
That may sound harsh, but as pathetic as this might sound, some of my favorite early childhood memories involve this cheapest of meaty finger foods, at least in a manner peripheral. You might recall a particular dish your mother would serve when the day threw too much in her path. That's right, I'm talking mac and cheese with chunks of tube steak tossed in for protien. Or, its kissin' cousin, baked beans with steamy bits of franks cavorting in the sweet, sweet sauce like a couple of libidinous teenagers skinny dipping on a hot summer evening. I know you remember that...
How about those overnight camping trips, suspending your weenie by way of a sharpened stick over a blazing fire, singing Kumbaya with all your heart, waiting for that moment when your dog would have that perfect, blackened, smoky flavor? Perhaps then, you might eat it right off the stick, the way our prehistoric ancestors must have enjoyed their racks of mammoth.
In fact, there are some places where consuming a hot dog is an almost compulsary activity. The afore-mentioned baseball game, piled with ketchup, kraut and onions, washed down with Miller Lite in a plastic bottle. The county fair, wiener skewered, dipped in corn-meal batter and deep-fried. The bowling alley, served with chili and liquid cheese product. Central Park, where you can procure a nugget of bliss on a bun from a man named Carl. Topping off the tank at the corner store affords you the convenient excuse to be, in the immortal words of John Cougar Mellencamp, "sucking down a chili-dog" while your gas tank slowly consumes your weekly paycheck.
As you can see, the opportunities to enjoy hot dogs in their many incarnations are plentiful, one only needs to think in a hot dog oriented manner to see a whole new world of exciting esculent experiences.
I leave you with this final thought on franks - How can it be bad, when it looks sooo good?
To be continued in Bratwurst: Viable Food Product or Excuse to Cook With Beer?
