Petco Park Hot dog - San Diego Ca

Ahhh, the Bark Park, Home of my San Diego Padres and one of the most beautiful baseball stadiums in the country, Petco Park. I have been a Padre fan since I can remember. And I know that the San Diego Padres are the West Coast equvilants to the Chicago Cubs. You know what I mean. Both teams will always come close to the big show but neither has a real shot at winning, ever.
The big difference is at least Chicago has better dogs than Petco. Heck, even 7 Eleven has better dogs than Petco. Too bad. When you think of baseball you think of sun, hot dogs and beer. The dog defines the stadium. Can you imagine Dodger stadium without a Dodger dog? Or Yankee stadium without a Nathan's hot dog. The hot dog is the heart and soul of a baseball stadium. It is something to long for as an adult when thinking back to those dog days of summer sitting in the afternoon sun as a kid and watching the all American sport of baseball.

As we sat in our seats both Sue and I wondered ( because for some reason we never asked) Who actually made the dogs for Petco Park. And it was then that she spotted the tell tale sign on the main score board. Could it be so? Oh say it ain't so. But there it was, that sign on the board.

wienerschnitzel! Oh the humanity. the heartbreak and the shame of it all. If so it would be the equivalent of seeing a modern day group of hardcore looking Harley riders zoom by you and then finding out they are just a group of Proctologists trying to look cool. But there it was.

We had to find out for the good of baseball we had to know. We strolled up to the hot dog vendors window and ordered two beers and two dogs. And yes the menu proudly proclaimed for all of the baseball world to see the name Weinerschnitzel. the Fisher Price of the hot dog world. "Look mommy, it's my Fisher Price first hot dog" shot through my brain as we took our dogs to the condiment table where we promptly dissected them.

It looked perfect. too perfect. it laid on the bun like a waxen effigy of Pamela Anderson. Looked great. But you knew it couldn't be real. No blemishes, no grill marks, no hot doggy juice running from it. A perfect looking OC Desperate looking trophy housewife.

I loaded mine with the usual stuff, Yellow mustard, Ketchup, Dill pickle relish and you can only find these at a Southern California stadium. Jalapenos! an absolute must on a grilled dog.

It looked better now. We raced back to our seats to watch the game and take a bite of these dogs. Great game by the way, Padres vs Giants.

Just one bite and I knew I had received a lump of coal for Christmas on this one. No taste, luke warm, no pop of the skin, no verve, no panache, Nada...........The hot dog was invented by the people for the people and of the people. This was a very watered down non threatening homogenized, overly thought over mishmash of politically correct ideas that not only puts the hot dog eating public to shame, but it leaves my beloved Padres home stadium without a soul.

But in the end Trevor Hoffman came in to save the day for the Padres, But he can't save the hot dog day.

Better bet is to get the sushi and a fruit cup and get on your Harley and ride out into the sunset to your next roid operation.

Chow

Michael