If you’re a fan of edamame, snow peas, and little cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off, this post is not for you. This could get ugly, and not just because there’s a photo of me below. I’m about to unleash a pack of Danger Dogs … meaty little monsters born on the streets of Tijuana. Served from homemade carts fashioned by strapping propane tanks to modified baby strollers.
It starts with a marriage of junk food giants — thick-sliced bacon and pure beef (meaning bovine byproducts) hot dogs. I will forgo the propane/stroller “kitchen” and grill at the front of my garage. I’m not sure why I’m wearing a pink shirt for such a manly undertaking. Subconsciously, I was probably hoping the Pepto-Bismal colorings might soothe stomachs upset by my “cuisine.”
Grill the dogs until the bacon is cooked to your desired degree of crispness. My gas grill fainted at the sight of the raw Danger Dogs, so I drug the family griddle to do the deed.
Once the meat is is cooked, place one of these beauties into a bun and top with your choice of sauteed onions and peppers, squiggles of mayonnaise, ketchup, and mustard, and finish off with a grilled jalapeno pepper.
I decided to keep things simple and topped my Danger Dog with jalapeno pepper chips. The men folk polished their Frankenstein-furters with gusto. No amount of coaxing could convince the ladies to partake however.
What about you? Do Danger Dogs make you hungry, or make you queasy?