This is a hotdog. Really. Or at least, this is what a hotdog would look like if it decided one day it wanted to dress up as a burger.
It started out as two store-bought Hebrew National all beef franks. As far as hotdogs go, the Hebrew Nationals are pretty good. I actually prefer Sabretts, but these were on hand. I don't really go for the Santa Cruz health food store organic hotdogs. It's the classic New York dirty water dog for me.
But how does it begin to look like a burger? With a little bit of violence.
And since these are generally leaner than ground chuck, I needed a binder to keep things together. So I whipped an egg, and got my hands dirty with the minced hotdog.
Greasy.
So this is what it looks like when done. I topped it as I would a regular hotdog: with mustard and sauerkraut.
The hotdog burger was actually Leslie's idea. When she first suggested it, I had a visceral yuck reaction. Executed, it tasted like a hotdog, but did not quite feel like a hotdog. I think the problem for me is that both hamburger and hotdog occupy an overly marked area of my food story. Both are comfort foods that resonate with much personal history and meaning. And while I can make a burger out of other kinds of meats (and those who have read this blog before have seen me do the weirdest crap), stripping a hotdog of what it means and infusing it into a burger was just too much freaky roleplaying.
I think I like the concept better than the product.