52 Chicago Dogs — Wolfy’s
Week 4: Wolfy’s.
I’m still staying fairly local for now. I’ll be working on the far South Side next month, so I’ll hit some of those places later.
This week, I went back to Wolfy’s, one of the places that brings back memories of my dad.
Dad was a huge fan of Chicago hot dog stands. He took us to them all the time, especially when Mom wasn’t home (I spent every election night at Sammy’s Red Hots because Mom worked the polls, so Dad took us there…that’s what I remember about elections). Superdawg, Fluky’s, Wolfy’s, Big Herm’s, Little Herm’s (right next door to Big Herm’s), and plenty of others. Dad always seemed to know where to find a good dog.
And he was committed. We could be coming home from a Cubs game, and rather than just head home, he’d detour to some hot dog stand. Because apparently, watching nine innings of baseball wasn’t enough of an outing. We needed a hot dog, too.
Back then, we’d also get lunch at Franksville, right across the street from Wrigley Field. Long gone now, but I remember it. I remember a lot of those places, actually.
Today I went back to Wolfy’s. I drop in there now and again, and it’s still good. The fries are top-notch, and the dog has a good snap. Some things are just as they should be.
When I started this project, I figured it would be fun to visit 52 different hot dog stands. An excuse to get out of the house, eat some Chicago dogs, and explore places I hadn’t been to before. Simple enough. But revisiting Wolfy’s got me thinking. Hot dog stands are tied up with some pretty great memories of my dad. The places he took us, the Cubs games, the detours on the way home. And the fact that these outings seemed to happen a little more often when Mom wasn’t around probably tells you something about his priorities. I hadn’t really thought about it when I came up with this idea, but maybe there’s more to this project than I expected. Maybe I’m not just revisiting hot dog stands. Maybe I’m revisiting a little bit of my childhood, and time spent with my dad.
Not bad for an excuse to eat 52 hot dogs.
Next week, I might head to Big Herm’s, even if it isn’t technically in Chicago. Superdawg is on the list, although, to be honest, it’s not my favorite. Maybe Fluky’s.
So many options!
Note: The featured photo is from the internet because the one I took was terrible.
Four down. 48 Chicago dogs to go.
Added -Hot dogs, baseball, Marx Brothers movies. Three things I love because my dad loved them and introduced me to them. Some of my best memories are of sharing those things with him. The hot dogs are just hot dogs, the baseball games are just baseball games, and the Marx Brothers are still funny as hell. But they’re all connected to my dad, and that makes them something more.
It makes me wonder: What will my kids remember that way? What things have I introduced them to that they’ll someday return to and think of me? I have no idea. Maybe something obvious, maybe something completely unexpected. I guess you don’t get to choose which moments become memories for someone else.