Last Friday I had the extreme pleasure of having lunch with Sarah. Before she moved to Chicago three years ago we were already making plans that I would visit and we would eat some serious sausages at Hot Doug’s, the Encased Meat King of Chicago. Maybe it would be a Friday or a Saturday and we could order the Duck Fat Fries, who could even know what the future would bring.
After spending an hour in line behind two small siblings who were engaged in a long battle of “new shoe vs. old shoe” (don’t ask) we were pretty hungry, so we took the full court press approach.
This was mainly for a photo-op, Aaron wanted a picture of me eating a Chicago Style Hot Dog so I obliged because I am endlessly benevolent and constantly in the mood for regional delicacies.
This is/was the Turducken Sausage with Cranberry Mustard, Champagne de Pâté, Stilton. You don’t have to eat the bun with this one. In fact don’t eat the bun with any of them except for the Chicago Style photo-op.
This was a chicken-beer sausage with white-cheddar jalapeno and some sort of fancy mustard.
THIS SAUSAGE. MY GOODNESS. Elk Sausage with a cherry-fig-onion marmalade, apple pear port sauce and sage derby cheese. I’ve been on a millet and green vegetable cleanse since returning from Chicago and all I can think about as I ladle more organic slop into my lunch containers is this darn sausage. I also have visions of sage derby cheese.
The most impressive fact about Hot Doug’s is that you forget all about the length of time you waited to make it in the door. What’s an extra hour of great company anyway? I’d go back, and I will. Next time I hope rattlesnake is on the menu.