An Love Letter to the Bacon Wrapped Hotdog

They are all over. They are San Francisco’s version of New York’s dirty water hotdog stands, but with more character. These cobbled together carts, looking like one part camping stove and one part pushcart, usually come out at night. Most of them popup in the Mission, but we’ve seen them all over. For obvious reasons they post up near the bars and wait for inebriated customers to flock like drunk cattle, and oh do they flock.

I’ve been caught by their siren’s song a few times. I mean, how good does a bacon wrapped hotdog with all the fixings sound after you’ve had a few beverages of the adult variety. Though these carts don’t look like they even know what a health inspection is, the smell that comes off them will turn even a vegetarian’s head. So last Friday night on our way to happy hour for a friend’s birthday, we spotted a cart outside the bar before we went in and we immediately knew that would be our last stop before home (we know how our inebriated selves act when hungry).

The cart we went to was actually a lot nicer than most (i.e. it wasn’t just a pushcart with a propane heated cookie sheet on top) and the lady was a crackup. She asked each question with a long drawn out style and purposely false enthusiasm. ”You want ketchuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup? Mustarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrd? Maaaaaaaayyyyoooooooo? Ooooooooooookkkkkkkkkk!”. Just priceless.

I’m going to use an analogy that’s kind of a stretch for this, but these hotdogs are kind of like going to Vegas. While you’re there it’s awesome, everything is great, you’re firing on all cylinders, and you’re having the time of your life. When you get back to wonder what just happened and why you did all those things that you are too ashamed to actually remember. It’s kinda like that. In the moment you really enjoy this hotdog that is perfectly accompanying your buzz. The next day you wonder what possessed you to put something like that into your body, especially from a food vendor that is illegal in the eyes of the city. You also may have some intestinal issues to boot. The net outcome is that you should do this regardless of the negatives since it’s a quintessential San Francisco experience. Plus, your intoxicated self will thank you a lot (though your next-morning self might curse you).