Move over, zebra mussels, it’s time to address another one of Milwaukee’s invasive species: the Chicago-style hot dog. What is it doing here? What does it want with Milwaukeeans? And…is it really Chicago-style?

As is true of any native Chicagoan, I have an overly prideful, unnecessarily storied and wholly unverified opinion on Chicago-style dogs. They say you never forget your first, and I sure haven’t: summer 2011, Wrigleyville, fresh out of a Cubs game (sorry.) My forebears also raised me a Chicago dog purist. Dragged through the garden or nothing!

While in college in Michigan, I tried on multiple occasions to inflict the Chicago dog on my friends either on long weekend Amtrak trips to Chicago, or at the sole “Red Hots” spot in Ann Arbor, Michigan. My efforts were in vain as I failed to convert any of these mitten-born hot dog wimps to fully-loaded frank enjoyers. GROW UP!!!

Now in Milwaukee post grad, I haven’t deigned to try any of the local Chicago-style joints, perhaps out of fear or ego. But Milwaukee is close enough geographically to Chicago that there’s got to be some authenticity to the local Chicago dogs. Right?

Understandably, I gather that Milwaukee is sick of being constantly compared to her big sister, so my hot dog investigation is almost certainly controversial; a friend even suggested I bolster myself for death threats. But like any good FIB in Milwaukee, I’m going to assert my opinion on the MKE Chicago dog scene although I have no business doing so.

I tried four spots in Milwaukee, considering their Chicago-style dogs based on the following criteria:

• Atmosphere. Is there a grumpy old man behind the register? Is there some form of neon or marquee signage around? Is the establishment peacocking around in primary color Vienna Beef plumage? Am I standing at an umbrella’d cart or sitting on a hard plastic bench?

• Composition. Simply put, are all the ingredients there? Poppy seed bun, all-beef frank, mustard, sweet relish, onions, sport peppers, tomato slices, pickle spear, and celery salt?

• Intention. Is aforementioned grumpy old man from Chicago? Or is this place grifting and milking FIBS for their filthy Illinois money?

Dooby Dogs @ The Mothership

If you’ve ever hung out on Mothership’s back patio, you’re familiar with their resident food truck, Dooby Dogs. They started serving dogs at Mothership just a couple years ago, proclaiming themselves “Milwaukee’s premiere river glizzys.”

I traipsed to Mothership (2301 S. Logan Ave.) early-ish on a Saturday night, well before the bar crowd filled in. Before grabbing my hot dog, I bashfully asked the bartender if they carried Old Style for the full experience, to which she said hell no. They do, however, carry Malört, so the brave can in theory pair a shot (and have another) with their dog. I opted for a two buck Hamms. The woman next to me repeatedly remarked to her beau and/or herself: “This place is so awesome. Isn’t this place awesome? So Milwaukee.”

I moved to the patio to await my “Bobby Dog” (Dooby Dog’s take on the Red Hot) in quiet repose. It was just me, the chilly breeze off Lake Michigan, and Giovanni, the fellow manning the dog truck for the evening. As I gingerly approached the counter, Giovanni fussed with a paper bag he had fashioned into a hat (“This is my old one. I wish it wasn’t so crumbled.”) and quietly exclaimed to himself (“Ay ay ay!”) while adding the finishing touches to the Bobby Dog. I felt like I had known Giovanni’s soul in another lifetime.

Who is the eponymous Bobby? Giovanni did not know. He nevertheless handed me the Bobby Dog with a proud smile as I interrogated him gently. At first glance, the Bobby Dog seemed inspired by a Chicago dog at the very least. But right off the bat, I noticed the absence of a poppy seed bun. Strike one. I began counting the further sins: jalapeños instead of sport peppers, tomato relish merging the sweet relish and tomato slices into one blasphemous whole. Giovanni explained to me that the founders of Dooby Dogs intended to offer a menu of “authentically inauthentic” regional dogs, or in other words twists on old classics. Considering Mothership’s take on classic cocktails and their list of creative house specialties, I thought their pairing with Dooby Dogs made a whole lot of sense.

Though heavily deviated from the canonical form, Dooby Dog’s Chicago-style was still a solid hot dog. The heat of the jalapeño blended well with the vinegar of the house-made pickles. Their seasoning dust filled the celery salt void, and lingered on the tongue well after I’d eaten. Giovanni also assured me the frank was all beef, though it was a honker of a thing, larger than a typical Vienna Beef sausage.

Well constructed, no doubt, and definitely satisfying. Just not a genuine Chicago dog. I’d say it’s more like if Milwaukee reclaimed the Chicago dog—just like the gently muttering lady at the bar had primed me to understand.

Judy’s Red Hots

My good Judy. This was my first time at Judy’s over on the northwest side (4812 W. Lisbon Ave.), just a hop skip and a jump off 175. You can tell they’ve been around for a while, and been through a lot, considering the old faded sign and bulletproof windows. But if anything, the humble facade reassured me that this was going to be a slam dunk.

Once inside, I felt like I had discovered a secret gem. Frozen in time in the late ’90s/early ’00s (save for the touch screen ordering kiosk), this place was a very close approximation to the old, no frills neighborhood hot dog joints of my childhood: faux brick lining the walls, adorned with lightly sun-bleached posters and iconic bright yellow Vienna Beef signs. I could imagine a hangry line snaking around the metal picnic tables and long laminate wood benches on a hot summer day. Approaching the ordering kiosk, I was surprised to see that ketchup was even an option—instead, I confidently requested “The Works,” which listed all the essentials except for celery salt.

The dog was ridiculously cheap—$3.99—and ready fast. Picking up my order at the counter in a brown paper bag, bottom corner dripping with grease (a good sign), I was greeted with a welcoming smile. “First time here?” I nodded. “You’re gonna love it,” said the man at the register. “Our food is really good.” “Vienna Beef! No pork here!” proclaimed the grillmaster behind him. I inquired about the lack of celery salt, to which they both laughed. “You’re not the first to ask that! Yeah, that’s how you’re supposed to do it. We’ve gotta get some one of these days.” They squabbled jokingly about when they’d get around to it.

Smiling, I enjoyed the frank out in the parking lot at sunset, generous toppings spilling out of the paper wrapping. Indeed, it met all the marks: poppy seed bun, Vienna Beef frank, sweet relish, mustard, tomato slices, pickle spear, diced onion, and sport peppers. Oh, and not just a couple, a healthy heaping of sport peppers. But what’s this at the bottom of the bag…KETCHUP PACKETS?!?

Judy’s was a low-key, genuine spot for a Chicago dog. The staff were extremely friendly, and I could tell they made their food with love. I felt they more than made up for the slight technical misses in dog composition with intention and atmosphere. I’ll definitely be back.

The Dogg Haus

Fresh off my Judy’s Red Hots high, I made it over to the East Side. Somehow, despite my frequent patronage of Brady Street establishments like my beloved Rochambo, I’d never been to The Dogg Haus (1433 E. Brady St.) A petite establishment, I can only imagine how rowdy it must get with a dozen hungry drunks demanding sustenance at the end of their night out on Brady.

This place seemed equally legit as Judy’s, though the vibe was entirely different, interior painted bright yellow and plenty of neon signs beckoning to would-be frank enjoyers out on the street. Menus hanging over the counter offered more hot dog options than you could shake a stick at, mostly regional options, executed as authentically as possible. I clocked both a Detroit Coney dog and Seattle dog, and I’ll admit I was tempted, but reminded myself to keep my eyes on the prize. One Chicago dog, please!

I sat at the tiny counter awaiting my hot dog and admired their many “Best Of” awards from the Shepherd Express, where I began my Milwaukee writing career—admittedly long after “Best Hot Dog” was even an award category. To the left of the window was a letter from Vienna Beef themselves, dated October 20, 2010, recognizing The Dogg Haus for its commitment to authenticity.

As the hot dog meister crafted my Red Hot, we held a mostly one-sided and confusing conversation about a Bitcoin-related argument he was embroiled in with a buddy. Lost for words but not wanting to harsh the vibe, I simply replied, “Um…yeah, sounds complicated!”

He handed me my hot dog, wrapped in foil, and promptly greeted someone I could only assume must be a regular. “Hey Mother Goose!” Suddenly, I also really wanted a fun fairytale related nickname.

The Dogg Haus Chicago-style dog was meticulous in its authenticity: S. Rosen poppy seed bun, Vienna Beef frank, that suspiciously bright green relish, specifically two sport peppers and two tomato slices, and yes, celery salt. It was perfect, with no room for error. But in its perfection, it was almost soulless. Was it my own bias making me feel this way? Was I stuck in the honeymoon phase with Judy’s, unable to recognize the technical achievements of another? Was I simply over-hot-dogged at this point in my research? WHY COULDN’T I BE SATISFIED?

Sammy’s Taste of Chicago

I approached Sammy’s in West Allis (1234 S. 108th St.) on a new day. On initial approach, I felt pretty confident about this place, with its broad yellow umbrellas out front and Pizza Hut-style steep hipped roof. I tried not to make eye contact with the human-sized hot dog statue lewdly dressing itself with mustard as I entered the establishment.

I was a little confused by the interior. The overall aesthetic seemed to be…car-themed? Okay, I’ll allow it. I was greeted very quickly, my paper order ticket slapped on the spinning order wheel in the kitchen window. My dog was ready in seconds. The dining experience itself was probably the closest to what I’m accustomed to in Chicago, taking my bright red tray to a picnic table outside under the shade of a big ol’ umbrella.

But I have to say…I was a little disappointed by Sammy’s Chicago dog. While all the proper toppings were included, they were very sparse. I asked the staff if they used Vienna Beef, to which they emphatically said, “NO! They changed their recipe. It’s not the real deal anymore.” I wasn’t confident of their authority on the matter. They claimed that their house-brand red hots were better, which…I don’t know, they kind of weren’t. It felt a bit like I was eating a regular hot dog wearing a SHEIN Chicago-style hot dog costume.

Now, I really hate to be negative, so I don’t want to leave it there. I did exchange telepathic messages with the hot dog statue out front. He told me he really wants to be a dancer.

Findings

If I’m going on accuracy, The Dogg Haus had the most authentic Chicago Dog. Everything you needed was there, not to mention the joint being smack dab in the middle of a big going-out district. But if I had to choose based on experience, the best Chicago Dog was Judy’s. Even though the location was a little out of the way from my usual jaunt, and its location being directly across from the Tosa police station was initially jarring, it was still the most earnest dog and experience when considered holistically.

It also became clear to me from my research that the more emphatic a place was that they were “Chicago-style,” the further away from it they really were, as if they were pretending to be something they weren’t. It’s okay if your hot dog isn’t Chicago-style—we are in Wisconsin, after all—but then maybe don’t dig in your heels about it and make it your whole thing? Sorry, that’s the meanest I will get in my analysis, and I say it with love.

If you really have a hankering for a Chicago dog in Milwaukee, you could just throw in the towel and go to the nearest Portillo’s in Brookfield or Greenfield. Or, you could support a local business, as that’s a whole lot more fun and does a lot more good! Plus, there are plenty of spots to choose from. One I didn’t get to was the ever-popular Vanguard, which everyone I told I was writing this story urged me to go. I skipped it, not out of disdain, but because I was more curious to see what else Milwaukee’s got. What’s more, as I drove away from my final dog stop, I noticed plenty of other Chicago-style spots with Vienna Beef umbrellas sprinkled up and down Greenfield and National. It appeared that some of these spots had eluded me in my research, though it only reaffirmed my conclusion that your best bet for a genuine Red Hot is not downtown, but somewhere west of the city.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go vegan for a month to reset my gut biome after this intensive research.

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