On a recent Friday night, my wife and I lined up in the parking lot of a birria restaurant on the city’s East Side, waiting to have dinner. But as is often the case with our food expeditions, things were not exactly as they seemed. We weren’t, in fact, lining up for birria. We were there for hot dogs.
Outside the restaurant, under a jet black/Corvette-red canopy emblazoned with the name El Buda Hot Dogs, Jesus Luis grilled franks on a large, portable, flattop grill, sending the smell of Fourth of July and backyard cookouts up and down East Seminary. Each frank was wrapped in bacon — a double-whammy of mouthwatering fragrances, as you can imagine. He and a small crew of helpers dressed the dogs in grilled onions, melted cheese, mustard and …Hot Cheetos dust — a new way, for me at least, to eat a hot dog.
After getting our food, we did what most other diners were doing: eating in or on their cars, using their hoods, tailgates, and waybacks as tables. We ate these fantastic dogs against a backdrop of kids playing and adults visiting, a communal and lively scene that felt like a neighborhood gathering…