The Dog Joint
New hot dog stand also offering burgers, Italian beef, and skin-on french fries. While it normally closes at 8 PM Sunday through Thursday, it stays open till 11 PM on nights when there’s a show at the nearby Park West. Cash only, with an ATM on the premises.
Location, location, location. This little organic hot dog and ice cream shop across from Welles Park may not seem like much, but with its kid-friendly menu of sausages and well-pedigreed sweets, traffic is all but guaranteed. The dogs themselves come in pork, two different combos of chicken and turkey (one with red pepper and jalapeño, the other spinach and feta), and classic nitrite-free beef; there are also vegan versions of a Polish and an Italian sausage. While they’re not chargrilled, they’ve got a clean, snappy flavor and are refreshingly free of grease. Cookies and pastries are parbaked by Sweet Dreams Organic Bakery in Glenview and finished on-site; there’s also terrific all-natural ice cream and Chicago Soy Dairy vegan frozen treats. Owner Andrew Baker carries through on his commitment to sustainability with furnishings as green as they come, all the way down to the biodegradable cornstarch takeout containers. —Martha Bayne
Squaring off against feuding family members at neighboring Jim’s Original, Express Grill (with the word original prominently plastered all over their new, very similar building) serves up a somewhat smaller lineup of items starring the smoked Polish sausage and its almost indistinguishable though slightly less garlicky twin, the beef sausage. Vienna dogs are 75 percent bull meat, and ground-up is really the only way this tough though flavorful flesh can be consumed; here, relish is added to the standard condiment combo of mustard and onions, making for one sweet wiener. Any sandwich order gets you a “free” bag of fries, leaving you enough spare coin to purchase some bootleg CDs or tube socks from the sidewalk entrepreneurs set up by the serving windows. —David Hammond
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229 S. Western | 312-243-0505
Owner Jim Andrews struck a rich vein of publicity when community members—including his alderman—objected to his irreverent approach of employing ex-offenders serving Chain Gang Chili Dogs, Paroled Pizza Puffs, and Probation Burgers. Still, how can you talk smack on a hot dog stand that exists to put ex-cons back to meaningful work and turn their lives around? Well, here goes: the skinless Chicago’s Finest brand beef Misdemeanor Wieners are insipid, and the jokes about incarceration that festoon the walls and menu are offensive only in their criminal corniness. Andrews may set high standards for his employees, but his sorry tube steaks, dense industrial-grade burger pucks, and underseasoned meatball subs are every bit as institutional as Nutraloaf. Even the hand-cut fries—which looked great but were clearly underfried and held until soggy—are a sad case of wasted potential. But among the wide array of fast-food standards, there are some redeeming items: the superthin-cut Petty Pork Chop Sandwich, heavily seasoned with pepper and oregano, distinguishes itself, and the $2.25 Alias Chili Tamale is immersed in a generous cup of beany, beefy chili that would only requires a dash or two of hot sauce to make make it a high-value target for a west-side lunch deal. And again, sincethere’s no such thing as bad publicity—not even when Bill O’Reilly names you his “Wednesday Patriot”—Felony Franks seems likely to thrive and multiply. —Mike Sula
A Gene & Jude’s hot dog, like a Cezanne painting, represents the apotheosis of a form, inessentials stripped away, almost the Platonic ideal of the hot dog. No tomato, and you don’t dare ask for ketchup. What you get at this middle-American icon is a perfectly warmed wiener with world-class snap, nestled in a steamed bun and layered with mustard, relish, onion, sport peppers (if you want ’em), and fries. That’s right: the fries, fresh cut with a hand-operated mechanism straight out of the Eisenhower administration, are laid gently on top of the dog, creating a steamy union of dog and fry that miraculously benefits both. There’s always a long line of hungry hot-dog freaks, and it’s always standing room only in this bright yellow-lit room, lined with a white wooden shelf bearing industrial-strength salt shakers (made of glass jars with holes hand-punched in the top). The locals consider this stand a national treasure, and when you bite into one of Gene & Jude’s franks, you’ll see why. Don’t be shy about ordering more than one: I’ve seen big guys order a six-pack to go (which usually means no further than the truck). —David Hammond
