The Hot Dog Hustle

As you probably already know, if you know us or have been reading this blog for a while, we tend to hang out at our neighborhood bar, Danny's Baboquivari, on most given evenings. It is our transition from work mode to house mode and we are friends with most of the staff there. If you are lucky, you should have a Danny's in your life as well. It's just our place you know.

You know.

Anyway, to make things even more cool about Danny's is that co-owner Erik "Chili" Hulten has purchased an old food cart, fixed it up real awesome and serves up some of the best hot dogs and brats in town. Now that the cool evening weather is here, you need to get to Danny's, order up a real honest drink and dig into Chili's amazing food.

How this guy does it - runs a business, raises a family, goes on food adventures with us AND now operates a hot dog cart - we just don't know.

But we are glad he does.

Chili in full servin' it up action

There are hot dog carts all over Tucson, and we like a decent amount of them, but something about Chili's dogs that we are kind of obsessed over. Sure he's a good friend and, yeah, maybe we're giving him some preferential praise, but, c'mon, the man is a beardy wizard when it comes to creating delicious condiments and combinations.

But we think it's his pickles.

Oh man. Chili's pickles are some of the best we have ever had the pleasure to suck down on a warm summer night or brisk autumn afternoon. Not quite dill, not exactly bread and butter, sorta fridge style but...not really. They are crisp, tangy and best of all sometimes really spicy. If you get a particular chip that is nestled next to a jalapeno....hoo doggies! That's some heat for yo face and butt. But we love it and he always serves them on the side of his delectable creations.

But not just dogs, oh no. The man grills up some serious bratwursts as well. Man style. This is manly food for manly people who want manly meat logs in buns. Chili doesn't fool around. No sir. You see, he's manly. His height, girth and beard should prove that.

When you've got dogs that are slathered in peanut butter and finished with thick cut bacon, there is literally no going back. Why would you want to?

Here's the thing: Chili and his stand, the Sausage Fest, do not do Sonoran hot dogs. That was one decision he made early on seeing as you can get those here in Tucson from almost any cart on any corner.

On a "chili" night, you need these

"I just didn't want to do Sonoran style dogs," Chili says handing off a brat to a customer about to brave the crowds at the Winterhaven festival of lights across the street. "I just can't compete with the amount of those stands here in Tucson. So I just mix it up with different styles and toppings.

"At first the menu included various sausage options, like real exotic stuff such as rabbit sausage. I got a little ambitious. Turns out people just want really good quality hot dogs and bratwursts which I am totally fine with and I think provide.

(Ed.note : He does)

"This is a great creative outlet for me and it's really fun to feed people. I try to be at Danny's every Wednesday and would love to expand to events, festivals and parties, which I have occasionally but even more so. It's hard work but I love it."

Oh....I see what you did there. Funny. That's funny...

Danny's usually has a food truck parked in their lot but when a vacancy opens up Chili and Sausage Fest take over when they can. Lucky of us because the man comes up with delicious arrangements of toppings to go over his already tasty dogs.

"One of my more popular brats is called the East Coast. I make a roasted garlic cream cheese then top it with some caramelized onions. It's simple but really tasty. I've got a Reuben brat that has a home made sauerkraut that I infuse with an IPA beer and then finish with a tart 1000 dressing. So good.

"A favorite of mine is the Arizona BBQ dog where I include a bunch of bacon, thick bar-be-que sauce and two different styles of onions. That'll warm you up on a cold night after some cold beers. But one of my more ambitious brats is called the Cali. The thing is topped with arugula, more bacon, avocado and my own pesto mayo. It's interesting because there is a lot going on with that thing."

Yes we have tried them all and, yes, "interesting" is the key word here. And if by interesting you mean "Aww hellz yeah!"....then yes.

Super good food made by a super good guy.

A manly guy.

All aboard the tube meat train

The secret to Chili's brat and hot dog success just doesn't come in the form of sausages or fun and inventive toppings. For Chili, it's all about the buns.

"They have to be soft, they have to be big and, most importantly, they have to grill up perfect," he says as he applies his signature chili (hence the nickname) onto a brat that is steaming in the early winter evening. "Alejandro's on South 12th Avenue makes the best. Hands down. Now you know."

Now that you know where he gets his amazing buns (umm...that sounded weird) from, and that Sausage Fest is your next go to cart for a tasty brat or hot dog, we just wanted to know how it all came about in the first place.

"This cart was just sitting around, unused, so I bought it earlier this year. It used to be called Uncle Tom's Hot Dogs and, yeah, I wasn't going to use that. So the first order was to change the name. Short of buying a restaurant or a food truck, the cart allows me to financially try the food business. It's tough but it's also something one person can manage. So far so good. I'm having a blast."

Good, because we are having a blast eating your sausage and buns!

Wait. That sounded weird again...

Los pickles es muy caliente

To see where Chili and Sausage Fest are setting up next you can follow them HERE.

Most likely they will be in front of his other business, the one where you will most likely find us inside. And when Chili is grillin' up some of his super awesome treats, you will most likely find us with mustard and bacon bits on our faces.

It's what the man would want.

And we wouldn't have it any other way.

Cheers!

The man, the myth, the mustard

Camera, Typing and Eating
"Metal" Mark Whittaker
Middle of December, 2016

Metal Influence:

LED ZEPPELIN

"Hot Dog"

Pat's Chili Dogs: A Little Celebration For A Tucson Tradition

"So how come you never did a thing about Pat's chili dogs? Thought you liked stuff like that."

"We do. Maybe we will."

"Well....when?"

"How about now?"

"Oh. Okay. Like now now or now later?"

"Now now."

*long pause*

"Cool..."

One mild, one hot comin' up

Pat's Drive In (or more commonly known as Pat's chili dogs) has been serving up sloppy awesome since 1955. Founded by a guy named Henry Patterson, (or more commonly referred to as Pat), this little fast food stand has stood the test of time, waistlines, dedicated fans, an obscene amount of criticism and above all the question of what makes a "real" chili dog.

Do you put beans in your chili for a chili dog or just meat?

Let the great debate begin!

(Personally, we prefer just meat for our chili dogs which goes against what they do over at Pat's, which is a bean based recipe...so there's that, sorry Pat's)

Always a line waiting for the goods

According to local legend, the recipe for their "famous" chili has changed over the years, which has upset a lot of regular customers that have been coming here for decades. Others deny this. Insiders stake that the recipe hasn't switched at all since its inception, but rather perhaps whoever was on chili prep that day might have added too little cumin, or too much paprika...stuff like that. Which can happen. And it does happen.

A lot.

Having been here only a handful of times, we have never noticed a change in the chili recipe. The recipe itself?

It's fine.

The chili at Pat's probably wont win any awards but it does go well with the dogs, which are...

Good.

No actually the links they use at Pat's are a nice quality; soft and flavorful that nestle well with the steamed buns that surround the slapdash fillings. All for like $2.

C'mon now. Now that's a win all around.

If you make them, they will come

Observing the controlled chaos that goes about inside during a rush is a thing to marvel at.

Each employee has a specific station and if they deviate from that said assignment...pure anarchy. It's a bit like watching a line of ants get scuffled by a falling leaf that got in their way. Sure they press on and eventually get proper order reinstated, but for a few minutes a good scream is to be heard, blame gets tossed around like a game of Hot Potato, someone nearly quits and no one knows what do to for a few seconds.

It's quite the spectacle if you ask us.

But once structure falls back into place, all is right with the world.

That's why we think the cooks and servers there are so grouchy, or ornery is a better term: Constant movement, not getting rich doing this and Carl showed up late again.

It's always Carl isn't it?

Stupid Carl...

Shouldn't that be Weeniecat Country?

Our first experience with Pat's was a couple of years ago. And it was sort of on a dare.

It was early July, hot, had the day off and we were reeling that Joey Chestnut usurped Takeru Kobayashi for eating the most hot dogs. Influenced by that bout, we set off to find this Pat's place and see how many dogs we could stuff in our beer soaked faces thinking that we could challenge Chestnut's 66 hot dogs in ten minutes.

Kobayashi only ate 63. Yeah..."only".

Got about three in before hitting the weenie wall. Fries were involved too, but still. Only three. The chili dogs themselves aren't very big which made us wonder why we could only put away three.

"Remember that bar-b-que we were at earlier?", noted one of our 4th of July reveler friends. "You had like four hamburgers."

Oh yeah. We did eat a lot before coming to Pat's. Huh. That explains it.

For all of our smarts, we sure am dumb.

The dogs were good though.

Welp, you get what you pay for

But the fries! Oh man...the fries are what kill it for us.

Hand cut, thinly sliced and perfectly greasy fries are the ideal accompaniment to their dogs and burgers. The old school fry trough looks as if it hasn't changed since the Kennedy administration and we are sure that's what gives the side treat their sheen and moxie.

Hot, chewy, reminiscent of a state fair or circus, the fries at Pat's are some of the best in town and that is a throw down we will stand behind.

Many chefs here in Tucson take the fry game to a whole new stratosphere, but there is something about a lil' stand that's been standing around for over 50 years offering up classically cooked fries served in a white sack that turns a deep silver from the amount of grease emanating from them.

You may think 'gross' but you know you want some right now.

We know we do.

Go on...go get some.

Do it now!

The fries are kind of the star here

Located on the corner of North Grande Avenue and West Niagara, in the Barrio Hollywood district, Pat's isn't exactly in the most picturesque of locations.

We don't care. We love this part of town. Heck, Taco Giro and Tania's 33 are just down the block, some of the best food around, but a lot of timid tourists looking for a taste of old timey Tucson or so called "foodies" that are on the prowl for that next funky and "totally hilarious" grub spot might get thrown off a bit. This particular stretch of Tucson is a little rough, kinda run down, very blue collar and very barrio Tucson.

If you go online and read some of the "complaints" about Pat's, most will be about the conditions of the neighborhood, the cleanliness of the tables outside (you gotta buss that stuff yourself pal, kids inside are too busy to wipe down benches making it all "safe" for you to eat their deep fried majesty) or the attitudes of the staff.

"Ugh. So rude," one 'critic' had to say about the employees. "Like he didn't even say thank you. Just took my money like an animal. I think they're all like gang members or something."

Probably. I hope so. Better them cooking us up some chili dog madness then being out on the street getting into mischief. Pat's is definitely a "locals only" type of place or for those that are cool enough to just relax, sit back, go to your happy place and eat some burgers and dogs from a drive-in for just a couple of bucks.

Otherwise, good luck finding these prices and this kind of atmosphere in the Foothills. Aint gonna happen.

Although they do buss tables in the Foothills. But you're going to have to play extra for that...

"Where's my chili dog at?"

With that said we at the Tucson Homeskillet just want to thank Pat's for doing what they do, why they do it and how they've been doing it for so long. We love tradition and are glad that they have kept to their food heritage for this long. We have a feeling they will be around for many more years to come. By the amount of business they do on a regular basis is an attest to that.

It's also nice to know that when you just want to have a taste of your childhood or maybe that one time when you took your date here and things went pretty well because now you're married and all that, Pat's is that place. No fuss, a bit of a mess, this walk up drive in is an institution whether you like it or not.

We like it.

But....you just can't have beans in the chili for a chili dog. It's just....

Sorry. Don't wanna mess with tradition.

Cheers!

Thanks Pat's!

Camera, Typing and Slight Heartburn
"Metal" Mark Whittaker
Early October, 2016

Metal Influence:  

VOMITORY

"Revelation Nausea"

Metal Mark Celebrates the Memory of His Dad Through A Small Kitchen Item He Thought Was Long Gone...

My Dad was a great guy.

According to the picture below, he was the king. In high school, my Dad was "King of the Twist", a popular dance back in the early '60s and was also king of the school's theater department, as an actor and resident artist.

Pretty cool, yeah?

My Dad...the king

My Dad was born in West Virginia but moved to Southern California with his parents and younger brother when he was a teenager. He fit in pretty quickly, not with the popular crowd or the jocks but with the creative types, the artists, the actors, back then basically known as Beatniks, later to be called Hippies.

Even as a young guy my Dad knew he was different, which is why he fit in nicely with the "weirdos".

After high school my Dad was drafted into the Army and almost went to Vietnam. According to him, he was so bad at driving Jeeps and throwing grenades that they decided to pardon him and send him back home.

If you knew my Dad, I can't picture him driving military vehicles or tossing bombs at people either. He was a real loving and peaceful sort, the total opposite of what was going on overseas at the time.

Early acting shenanigans

After the Army, my Dad ended up moving to the central coast of California, winding up in a (then) quaint little beach town called Carmel. Nowadays it's a playground and residence for the very wealthy but in the late '60s it was still a funky coastal city filled with artists and beach bums. He fit right in.

It was around this time living around the Monterey Peninsula that my Dad began to excel at his acting and became a locally popular cartoonist and painter. He was involved with a traveling children's theater troupe and did all of the artwork on the flyers and posters for their shows.

 When my Dad met my Mom, who was a very talented costume designer and maker, he knew she was the one and shortly after they were married in a small, and very 1960's, ceremony on the coast. My Dad's wedding shirt had embroidered mirrors in it. Yeah. 

Not too long after, I came along.

Dad in "A Christmas Carol"

My parents moved back to Los Angeles to try and make it in their craft, my Mom the costume designer and my Dad the actor/artist, but just ended up getting divorced. I was four.


My Mom at the time was really busy with fashion school so my Dad got custody of me. He did all he could to raise me but ended up not acting as much and taking a full time job. He still liked to doodle though. That was something he never gave up on.

After I graduated elementary school, my Dad and I moved back to the central coast and ended up in a (then) agriculture city called Salinas. It was here that he got back into acting as I developed my obsession with hardcore Punk and Metal. I was a good kid but my hair, clothes and records I owned made him roll his eyes on a daily basis.

Still, we were best pals.

My Dad, me and my Xmas Big Wheel (check the carton of smokes on the old tube TV...70's style)

By the time I graduated high school my Dad officially came out to me as a gay man. At first I was confused and worried about what my friends would say, but I knew all along of who he was and what he was. When I got into theater school myself, surrounded by gay people and folks from all various walks of life, I totally embraced him and was proud of his lifestyle. And when he met his soon to be husband, Richard, all I wanted was for my Dad to be happy.

And he was.

Richard and my Dad had a commitment ceremony in Carmel in 1990 and then moved to Palm Springs soon after. In 2013, after the same sex marriage law passed, they were officially and legally married.

As the year progressed Richard's health diminished and in early 2014 he died from complications of Alzheimer's. My Dad was devastated, heartbroken, and when She-Ra and I went to visit him after his loss, we kind of knew what was to happen next.

Unfortunately.

My Dad died a month later, literally from a broken heart, so I immediately went back to their place in Palm Springs to start to take care of things. I ended up donating most of their stuff to local charities and selling some antiques and the car to collectors. Honestly, after all the time I had to hang out with my Dad, I only kept a few small items for myself: A painting of him as Mordred when he was in "Camelot", some vintage 3-D glasses and Hollywood memorabilia he had in storage seeing as he loved old movie posters and gimmicks, some cast iron pots and pans as Richard was a southern boy and loved to cook good down home food...as do we, so cooking with his trusted cast iron skillets meant we were keeping that tradition going.

Unexpectedly, in a fit of sadness clearing out more of their stuff, I ended up keeping just one other thing. A strange yet oddly significant item from the past that I thought was long gone.

It was my Dad's old recipe box.

The little recipe box

Here's the thing: My Dad kind of didn't like food.

He hated all condiments such as mustard, ketchup, relish and mayo. All of it really. Tomatoes made him barf because he couldn't get over the squishy jelly in them. "It looks like they're in the larval stage," he would say. Plus most any "exotic" or "ethnic" food made him cringe. Growing up in the 'burbs of Los Angeles, I was lucky to have all sorts of diverse friends, Black, Asian, Jewish, Mexican etc, so when I hung out at their homes or spent the night there I was treated to tastes and foods that I would otherwise never get a chance to try.

It was here that my food fanaticism began to take over.

When I tried sushi and loved it and told him about it, my Dad simply said "You don't like sushi." Or when I discovered pastrami and knew I would be in love with it for the rest of my life, he would scoff "You don't like pastrami," as he dished up another Swanson's TV dinner. On and on. It wasn't until I lit out on my own that he gave in and accepted my culinary adventurousness, especially my time working as a chef.

Which makes this small yellow recipe box such a curiosity.

Pecos Pasta, a favorite of his to cook since it was easy, hearty and cheap

It's always been in the house, always somewhere in the kitchen, usually on top of the fridge. I have never known a day when this square case with mushrooms etched on the sides wasn't around in his, or my, life. The fact that he kept it all these years is a flummox too. In his later years, my Dad rarely if ever cooked. I knew Richard did, but my Dad? Not so much.

Thing is, when I was flipping through the dozen or so recipes filed away, I did start to recall him cooking up dishes from the little yellow box. He often made something called Pecos Pasta, which was literally elbow macaroni covered in chili and cheese and he did like to make vasts of his spaghetti sauce, which kept my spazzy little self fed for days after hours of playing outside or skateboarding til just after dark. Just add some noodles and cheese and, blammo, you got yourself a meal.


Oh, I see it now. Cheese, some kind of sauce and pasta. That was the mainstay of recipes in that little yellow box.

Gotcha.

My Dad seems to be having more fun at Disneyland than I was

Funny thing is, there really isn't much to my Dad's old recipe box. A few handwritten dishes, some cut outs from magazines, my grandmother's (his mom's) recipe for fudge and my Mom's secret recipe for her lemon cheese bars that she makes every holiday season.

On the last day of being in my Dad's house after he passed, before coming back to Tucson, I found the old recipe box hidden away in a cabinet in the kitchen. I just stood there, in the nearly empty shell of their Palm Springs bungalow, in that kitchen, staring at the object from my childhood, this old recipe box, crying. Losing one Dad and then my real Dad in less than two months? I too was devastated. But for some reason finding this little object that was a staple in our kitchens, be it in Los Angeles, Salinas, Carmel or Palm Springs, made me know he was still with me and it now has a home with us in Tucson.

It sits on the windowsill in our own little kitchen in Tucson, surrounded by my weird regrowth experiments such as green onion nubs, lettuce bulbs and such, seeing if life will grow from their scraps. I can see the little yellow recipe box every morning when I open the curtains to let the early light in. Its a simple little thing, square and very '70s with its bright color and that mushroom motif, but it makes me smile every time I see it because it reminds me of my Dad and how awesome he was, even if he was a bit frightened of food.

For that factor alone its size becomes immeasurable.

But I have yet to make his famous "Nacho Fondue". I mean, I live in Tucson, so...

Well maybe someday.

Just some of the recipes from that funky yellow box

Thank you Dad for trying your best to raise me and thanks for all of the food you made from that little yellow recipe box. You will be missed but now that I have it safe and in sight in our own home, I know you are always there every time I let the morning sun into our favorite room in our home:

The kitchen.

Happy Father's Day everyone! Now go hug your Dad and make some chili. Then throw it on some pasta and top it with cheese.

It's what my Dad would want.

Cheers...

That's my Dad...he was one of a kind

Camera, Uploads and Remembering
"Metal" Mark Whittaker
Right before Father's Day, 2016


Metal Tribute:

QUEEN

"Father to Son"