Anyway, I didn't eat much before going to the game because I have positive memories about 'ballpark franks': more specifically 'Wrigley Dogs'. I won't go so far as to say Wrigley Dogs are good. I won't even go so far as to say I remember at all what they taste like. But my fuzzy little-kid memory liked shoveling them into my mouth along with those cardboard-skinned salt-lick peanuts and maybe a frozen lemonade.
At Dodger Stadium, waiting in a line that stretched alllll the way out into the scorching sunlight, cashiers moving at a glacial pace, eyeing the posted menu and fighting the moral outrage that came with considering paying over $6 for a ballpark dog, I developed high hopes probably mainly out of self-preservation. A $6.50 hot dog has to be at least passable, right?
Wrong. It's spam in a casing, enveloped in spongy dust.
But the Louisiana hotlink, overlooked by everyone in line ahead of us, perhaps due to its lofty price tag of $8, was another thing entirely. Of course, offered in a restaurant for the same price, it'd be rapidly dismissed as pedestrian, but put in direct comparison with its dusty, canned-meat-esque cousin, it was gourmet indeed. Real, recognizable (though oil-soaked) onions and peppers littered its somewhat nonsoggy, thick-cut bun, and the dog itself had discernible spices. The casing even gave an actual snap, which unfortunately gave way, eventually, to the sensation of chewing only on a stubborn rubber band after the filling had long since disappeared.
This grudging praise should be taken as a recommendation if and only if you find yourself with no other choice but to purchase food at a Dodgers Game.