A Chicago hot dog isn’t just a snack: It’s an experience. That experience begins not with the toppings or even the frank itself, but with the vendor.
Through Hot Dog University, a $300 two-day course, Vienna Beef will teach you to be a good Vienna vendor. One who’s caring, friendly, and chops tomatoes with proper technique.
It’s taught by bona fide Chicago dog legend, Bill Murphy, who ran Murphy’s Red Hots in Lakeview for nearly 30 years. His enthusiasm for the craft bursts like juicy sport pepper. My class of fellow hot dog hopefuls came from all over the country and listened attentively.
Here are five lessons Murphy taught us.
“Never waste a dog on a problematic bun.”
The bun is a hot dog’s first impression — and you never get a second chance to make a good first impression. Obviously, (poppy seed) buns should be fresh. And steamed. And if anything happens to one of those fluffy steamed buns, you toss it. Simple as that.
“Have some pride. Use tongs.”
Once you have your technique down, you’ll be waving tongs between condiment trays like a magic wand. Like a conductor’s symphonic baton. Or, as Murphy says, “Like Edward Scissorhands.”
A plastic spoon is acceptable on giardiniera only. Also, black gloves look most professional.
“Add a splash of balsamic.”
All classrooms should have a griddle full of slowly caramelizing onions, IMO. When preparing onions for a Polish, the professor recommends Spanish onions, cut julienne style with the grain … plus a splash of balsamic: “It lights ‘em up!”
For chopped onions, hand-cut against the grain and prep in advance. “Always be ahead on your onions,” Murphy says.
“Real men wear yellow hats.”
Another piece of gold-star advice from Murphy. Here, he lectures alongside my classmates, two caterers from Tennessee. (Emmi Mack / Hey Chicago)
“Be the best part of your customer’s day.”
This can mean a lot of things when you’re behind the counter at a bustling stand. It means building a plentiful Italian beef: drizzled evenly with gravy and laid with visible peppers. It means paying attention to every order, smiling, and saying, “Oh, tough guy,” when someone asks for extra giardiniera.
When you take pride in feeding Chicagoans, your chance of beating the odds — or, as Murphy says, “not running yourself into a ditch” — are greatly increased.
People always remember where they had a good hot dog.
