A couple weeks ago I was going to have dinner with my friend Matt in Boulder and we walked by something that got me pretty excited. Mustard’s Last Stand “Chicago-style” hot dogs, right here in Boulder. Now I’ve been doing pretty good on the home-sick front, but when I saw that I got really excited. In Evanston, about 6 blocks from my Dad’s house there’s a Mustard’s Last Stand, right there next to Dyke Stadium. There’s no shortage of places in Chicago and the surrounding suburbs to get a proper Chicago-style hot dog, but Mustard’s in Evanston is tops for me. Maybe it’s because I always go there with my Dad that makes the experience that much better, but in a lot of ways, Mustard’s feels like home.
Anyway, I make a mental note to go to Mustard’s (in Boulder) as soon as I can. Last Friday, my friend Mimi and I strolled a few blocks over there at lunch to grab a couple dogs. I’m stoked. The first thing I ask the dude at the counter is “are you guys the same Mustard’s as in Evanston?” “Evansville?” he asks. He has to check with someone else. Nope. Not the same one. This place is like EXACTLY the same place as in Evanston, which is weird. And now I’m worried. I order: two Chicago-style, everything. What they served me made me die a little on the inside. A Vienna beef dog with mustard, onions, tomatoes, pickle, sport peppers and sauerkraut. SAUERKRAUT? No neon green relish, no celery salt, and come to think of it, I don’t think the bun had seeds on it! Mimi and I quietly talk badly about their “Chicago-style” dogs and then it hits me: did they use quotes on purpose? Are they trying to be funny? I wonder what they would come up with if they served a “Philly” Cheesesteak.
Nothing brings out a more violent bout of hometown pride like some place a thousand miles away claiming to serve the native cuisine you hold so dear. Yes, I’m talking about hot dogs. Hey, I’m from Chicago – what do you expect?