Something we don’t really have around Boston that we have out here in Pittsfield are hot dog joints. Basically, a bar with a few booths whose primary fare are baby hot dogs. For the cool cost of eight bucks, you could have four dogs, some fries and a beer. Maybe people in Boston are too high brow for baby hot dogs, I don’t know. But there’s something quite delicious about having some little dogs with meat sauce while watching the Patriots or Red Sox on a big screen.
Maybe it’s analogous to the roast beef joint, which doesn’t really exist outside of route 128. Even then, it’s probably not about the hot dogs. It’s more about having that little dive you can go to and find a familiar face. Where people come to complain about their councilman in one sentence and toast him in another.
Eh. Give me the hot dogs any day.