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 The Oscar Mayer Wienermobile, one of the most famous advertising vehicles, ever.
Part 9 of a series in honor of National Hot Dog Month.
Nary a hot-dog stand in the city serves the brand, but we can hardly let Hot Dog Month go without a few words about Chicago’s most famous sausage maker: Oscar Mayer.
 Oscar Mayer After an apprenticeship in a Detroit butcher shop, Mayer, a German immigrant, came to Chicago in the 1870s. He worked Kohlhammer’s market, and then did a six-year stint with Phillip Armour & Co. in the Union Stockyards. In 1883, with his two brothers, Gottfried and Max, he took over the Kolling Meat Market on Sedgwick Street on the North Side and began making hams, bacon, wieners, bockwurst, liverwurst and weisswurst, delivering them all over the city and suburbs by horse-drawn wagon.
Yet it may not have been Mayer’s meats that made him a household name so much as a knack for promotion and technical innovation.
In 1929, the company adopted the Oscar Mayer brand name for all its products — they were among the first meat processors to label bacon and sausages with a brand name. Beginning in 1904, Oscar Mayer also introduced packaged sliced bacon and vacuum-packed cold cuts.
The company added new promotional innovations with its iconic Wienermobile, a 13-foot, sausage-shaped car built by Chicago’s General Body Co., which began cruising Windy City streets in 1936. Its Wiener Whistles became the must-have toy of the 1950s, and the “I’d Love to Be an Oscar Mayer Wiener” song, which hit the airwaves in 1963, is now the oldest continuously used commercial jingle in the history of American advertising.
In 1976, the company added a second memorable tune to its hit parade, which has taught generations of children how to spell “B-O-L-O-G-N-A.”
Oscar Mayer no longer has a manufacturing presence in Chicagoland — its main plant is in Madison, Wis. — but the brand is now part of Northfield-based Kraft Foods. A fleet of Weinermobiles remains on the road, today with their own blog and Twitter feed, showing that the brand is still on top of promoting itself.
“Eat this!” will resume next week. For now, check out this recipe for Char-Dog Chicago Salad from the National Hot Dog & Sausage Council.
Chicago hot dog series:
- The Chicago-style hot dog: ‘A masterpiece’
- Eat this! The Chicago hot dog, born in the Great Depression
- Know your wiener!
- Friday food porn: Seasons’ sexed-up hot dog
- It takes big buns to hold Chicago hot dogs
- Origins of neon relish and other Chicago hot dog conundrums
- Do only barbarians put ketchup on hot dogs?
- Chicago’s Schmidt the real Mr. Footlong Hot Dog Inventor
 Postcard view of the Refreshment Corner, Riverview Park, about 1908.
Part 8 of a series in honor of National Hot Dog Month.
Although it’s rarely seen at local fast-food restaurants today, Chicago originated that carnival favorite, the footlong hot dog. The 12-inch frank got its launch at the refreshment stand at Riverview Park, an amusement park that operated at 3300 N. Western Ave. from 1904 to 1967.
 George Schmidt Riverview owner George Schmidt reportedly introduced the extra-long wieners as a cheap and filling meal for visitors too strapped to eat in the park’s restaurants. They helped attract families to the park, especially after the Great Depression arrived.
In a 1948 interview, Schmidt recounted that in the ’30s, “it was no odd sight to see a mother, accompanied by two children out at Riverview on a Tuesday afternoon, purchase one hot dog for 2 cents and a bottle of pop for the same price, and see all three have a bite of the hot dog and a few swigs of the pop. Times were that tough.”
Some challengers to Chicago’s footlong creation claim allege that The Original Famous Sandwich Shop in Pittsburgh invented the 12-incher, while others champion Eric’s Place in Los Angeles, but they appear to have been a little later than Riverview.
Footlongs don’t seem to have caught on much in Chicago outside Riverview. However, a few local places do serve them, including Murphy’s Red Hots in Lakeview, Miller’s Dog n Suds drive-in in Fox Lake and The Firkin and Pheasant, a Lincoln Park pub.
Chicago hot dog series:
In 1965, Spanish artist Pablo Picasso presented Chicago with a maquette for the nameless, 50-foot-tall cubist sculpture that now graces Daley Center Plaza as a beloved symbol of the city. The City Council approved final plans for the full-sized sculpture the following year, but not without controversy.
Chicagoans reacted with outrage to the sculpture’s aesthetics, its nameless status and ambiguous subject, the Communist politics of its creator and more.
Local pundits such as Herb Lyons called it a “weird bit of symbolic sculpture” … “for the birds” and predicted, “This towering statue could make things even more confusing outside the [Civic] Center than they are inside!”
Ald. John Hoellen (47th) said, “The statue represents the power of city hall, stark, ugly, overpowering, frightening,” and went so far as to propose to the City Council that the “rusting heap of iron” be shipped to France and replaced with a statue of Cubs star Ernie Banks.
So it became a famous joke in 1966 when a Chicago public-relations firm used the proposed site to erect a giant pickle.
In a 1997 interview, science-fiction writer Algis Budrys recounted the incident from his years as a Chicago publicist:
“It got to a point where the kids — there are four boys — were eating 10-dollar bills for lunch. So I got a job in a PR shop. We had Pickle Packers International as a client.
“At one point, we built a 12-foot pickle [and] presented it to the city of Chicago, which had an empty courthouse square because people had objected to the Picasso sculpture originally intended for the site. . . . So we had all the newspapermen out, a tremendous event. . . .
“They called it the ‘Picklecasso.’
“I did that.
“What happened to the pickle? We gave it to someone who cut out a hole in it and entered it in a canoe race on the Fox River. In the middle of the race, he turned it over. It floated away. The Fox connects to the Illinois; the Illinois connects to the Mississippi. That pickle could be anywhere.”
Chicago still loves its pickles! Yet perhaps because Chicagoans get their fill of dills atop hot dogs, we don’t have the tradition of specialty pickle stores that New York has in its Guss’ Pickles, The Pickle Guys, Picklelicious and others.
The closest thing we have to a New York-style pickle store in the city is the recently opened Gramp’s Gourmet Foods stand at the Chicago French Market. Gramp’s, founded by Bill “Gramps” Brickner in 2005, puts up pickles in Scales Mound, Ill., near Galena.
Which is not to say Chicagoland doesn’t have its share of pickle makers. Although the most prevalent local name, Chipico, founded in 1925, and acquired by Vienna Beef in 1984, is Chicago Pickle Company today in name only — its products are pickled in Florida and California — local picklers include Lisle’s That Pickle Guy, who brings his products to area farmers’ markets; The Puckered Pickle Co., which has been producing pickles on Chicago’s West Side for over 30 years (they’re available online and at a variety of Chicagoland retailers), and the biggest: Claussen, based in Woodstock, and known for its refrigerated dills.
Claussen’s pickle business started in the 19th century with Illinois farmer Hans Claus, who grew vegetables on his family farm near Chicago. About 1870, he got stuck with a crop of cucumbers he couldn’t sell — so he pickled them.
Claus and his family continued to produce pickles, bottling them with a standard heat process. In the 1960s, about the time the Picklecasso made its appearance, his great-great-grandson Ed Claussen perfected a way to keep the crunch of a new dill in a jar. His experiments resulted in the crisp, fresh-tasting refrigerated pickle that is today the staple of the business.
The brand expanded nationwide after Oscar Mayer & Co. bought Claussen in 1970 and in 1976 replaced its plant at 5100 S. Western Blvd., Chicago, with a northwest suburban facility. Northfield-based Kraft Foods took over Oscar Mayer and Claussen in 1989, but all Claussen pickles are still made at 1300 Claussen Drive, Woodstock.
Maybe when the giant eyeball in the Loop goes away in the fall, the city could resurrect the big pickle.
Related posts:
 The classic BLT becomes eggs benedict at Prairie Fire and Prairie Grass Cafe. In this seasonal special for Saturday and Sunday brunch, Prairie Fire in the West Loop and Prairie Grass Cafe in Northbrook turn the classic BLT into eggs benedict, using Nueske’s bacon from Wisconsin, locally grown micro greens and ripe, locally grown tomatoes, plus two poached eggs coated with house-made hollandaise sauce on a toasted English muffin, $10.50.
Part 7 of a series in honor of National Hot Dog Month.
No one can account for the origins of Chicago’s frank aversion to ketchup on hot dogs, but it’s deep-seated.
Some vendors, such as Gene & Jude’s in River Grove, don’t even offer ketchup for the fries. Places like Jimmy’s Red Hots in Humboldt Park will throw you out even for asking. Others, like Superdawg in Norwood Park and Wheeling, won’t apply the red stuff for you, but will allow you to ruin your hot dog yourself.
What many Chicagoans don’t realize, though, is that the stigma against ketchupy wieners is not merely a Chicago prejudice. Even the Washington, D.C.-based National Hot Dog & Sausage Council says, “Don’t use ketchup on your hot dog after the age of 18.” (They’ll let children whose parents have neglected to teach them to know better get away with it.)
The 1983 Clint Eastwood flick “Sudden Impact”  may be best known for the phrase, “Go ahead, make my day.” But there’s another fine quotation from the film:
“No, this stuff isn’t getting to me. The knifings, the beatings, old ladies being bashed in the head for their Social Security checks, teachers being thrown out of a fourth-floor window because they don’t give A’s, that doesn’t bother me a bit. . . .
“Or this job, either. Having to wade through the scum of this city, being swept away by bigger and bigger waves of corruption, apathy and red tape. Nah, that doesn’t bother me.
“But you know what does bother me? … You know what makes me really sick to my stomach? … Watching you stuff your face with those hot dogs.
“Nobody, I mean nobody, puts ketchup on a hot dog!”
There you have it, straight from Dirty Harry.
It was a Chicagoan who put it best, though. Columnist Mike Royko famously wrote:
“No, I won’t condemn anyone for putting ketchup on a hot dog. This is the land of the free. And if someone wants to put ketchup on a hot dog and actually eat the awful thing, that is their right.
“It is also their right to put mayo or chocolate syrup or toenail clippings or cat hair on a hot dog.
“Sure, it would be disgusting and perverted, and they would be shaming themselves and their loved ones. But under our system of government, it is their right to be barbarians.”
Related posts:
 Fleming’s Sunday prime rib dinner. What it is: “Prime rib” refers to thick cut of roast beef, usually from a bone-in, standing rib roast. It’s typically simply seasoned and slowly roasted, making it an easy and impressive company meal.
The name “prime rib” can be a misnomer, because the beef is not necessarily U.S.D.A. prime. At Fleming’s Prime Steakhouse in River North and Lincolnshire, the prime rib really is prime-grade beef, according to spokeswoman Cindy Kurman. The restaurants serve prime rib every Sunday, and on July 25, a 12-ounce cut will be available in a three-course dinner for just $29.95.
Where it comes from: Prime rib comes from ribs six through 12 in the rib section of beef. As individual steaks, these same cuts are sometimes called “ribeye,” “cowboy steak,” or “Delmonico,” but “prime rib” usually means the beef is cooked as a large roast and sliced afterward.
What to do with it: A standing rib roast makes an impressive and most flavorful company meal, but for ease of serving, some cooks prefer a boneless roast, as they prepare at Fleming’s. Prime rib is often associated with winter holidays, but it can be easily prepared in a covered barbecue grill if you don’t care to heat up your kitchen in hot weather. Horseradish sauce is a traditional accompaniment.
Fleming’s prime rib
Chef Jerl Griffin
 Jerl Griffin 6 to 7 pound boneless ribeye roast (cap on)
2 tablespoons olive oil
1-1/2 tablespoons garlic pepper spice blend
1 tablespoon kosher salt
1 tablespoon onion powder
2 tablespoons dried thyme
The day prior to cooking, pat the roast dry and trim fat to 1/2 inch from the end of the loin. Place on a sheet pan and brush with olive oil. Combine the seasonings in a small bowl and rub the meat. Cover the roast with a piece of wax paper and refrigerate overnight.
To cook, place the ribeye on a sheet pan in a 400-degree oven for 15 to 20 minutes to brown. Reduce the oven temperature to 250 degrees. Pour off any liquid then cover with foil and cook for 2 to 2-1/2 hours until the internal temperature measures 120 degrees on an instant-read thermometer.
Let stand 15 minutes. Cut into portions and serve with horseradish sauce. 8 servings.
Horseradish cream sauce
3 cups sour cream
1/2 cup prepared horseradish
1 tablespoon worcestershire sauce
4 tablespoons chopped fresh chives
1 teaspoon ground white pepper
1 tablespoon kosher salt
Combine all ingredients in a mixing bowl and whisk until thoroughly blended. Cover and refrigerate until ready to serve. About 4 cups.
More recipes
Part 6 of a series in honor of National Hot Dog Month.
The Chicago hot dog — with the white of the onions, the red of the tomatoes, the brilliant green relish — “It’s like a work of art,” says Bob Schwartz, vice-president of Bucktown-based Vienna Beef Co., and author of “Never Put Ketchup on a Hot Dog.” 
While the wiener and bun are both important, the toppings of a Chicago hot dog make it truly unique. Nowhere else in the country does a hot dog come with such a colorful array of fixings.
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Yellow mustard. The mustard goes on first. It must be yellow, “salad” or “ballpark”-style, a condiment that was relatively new when the Chicago hot dog debuted during the Great Depression.
According to the makers of Chicago’s native-born brand, Plochman’s, mild, brilliantly turmeric-hued mustard was invented in the U.S. in 1904. Before then, mustard came only hot, spicy or sweet.
Plochman’s was founded as Premium Mustard Mills in 1852, changing its name after Moritz “Morris” Plochman, a chemist from the Kingdom of Wirtemberg (now part of Germany), bought the firm in 1883. Plochman’s became the first successful squeezed condiment in 1957 when it introduced its distinctive plastic barrel. The company, still owned and operated by the Plochman family, is now headquartered in Manteno, Ill., north of Kankakee.
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Neon-green sweet-pickle relish. It’s unknown who first created this distinctive condiment or why, although Maurie and Flaurie Berman, owners of Superdawg in Norwood Park and Wheeling, where it’s still called “piccalilli,” say they’ve served it since opening in 1949, and believe they first introduced it to the Chicago hot dog.
“I can’t remember when we didn’t have it,” Flaurie Berman says.
The most logical story of the origins of the fluorescent green tint is that some pickle manufacturer tried to make up for uneven hues in his product by adding green food coloring and went a little too far. The bright-colored relish tends to be a little sweeter than the plain relish used by minimalists like Gene & Jude’s in River Grove. Schwartz says the relish fits the “boldness” of the colorful sandwich.
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White onions. White onions have a cleaner, milder taste than the much more common yellow variety, better for serving raw. They also tend to hold their crispness and moisture better when chopped. The bright white sets off the other ingredients nicely.
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Ripe, red tomatoes. Tomatoes are essential to the dragged-through-the-garden dog and served at most stands, though minimalist fans eschew them.
Ripeness can be an often-elusive ideal. Superdawg remains unique in serving a pickled green tomato wedge in lieu of fresh red wedges, an innovation Maurie Berman says they instituted early on because the quality of fresh tomatoes is so unreliable.
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Kosher-style dill pickle. Chicago’s taste in pickles runs to fresh and crunchy, the style New Yorkers call “half sour” and others call “new dills.” “Kosher-style” means the pickles are naturally fermented in a salt brine (though many manufacturers add vinegar as a preservative) and flavored with garlic.
Chicago is home to a number of pickle makers, including Chicago Pickle Company (aka Chipico, established in 1925 and now owned by Vienna Beef), Puckered Pickle Co. and Claussen, about which more on another day.
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Sport peppers. These pickled, green hot peppers, like most chilies, are a cultivar of Capsicum annuum, typically about an inch and a half long and a half inch in diameter.
Pepper expert Dave DeWitt speculates, “The term ’sport’ probably originated because they are used as condiments on hot dogs sold in baseball parks.” But in his book “Hot Peppers: The Story of Cajuns and Capsicum,”  Richard Schweid quotes a former Louisiana sharecropper, Stella Larson: “They were called sports because they didn’t burn your hand when you picked them.”
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Celery salt. For many, a sprinkling of celery salt is the sine qua non of the Chicago hot dog. There’s no proof, but this defining shake may well date to the Maxwell Street vegetable-cart origins of the toppings, and it certainly points up the flavor of the onions and tomatoes and pickles. From the 19th century through the 1920s, local farmers touted Chicago as celery capital of the United States, so perhaps a mixture of ground celery seed and salt just seemed a natural add on.
Vendors have tried a variety of other toppings over the years. A few stands, such as Photo’s Hotdogs in Mount Prospect and Palatine, add fresh cucumbers. Byron’s Hot Dog Haus in Wrigleyville and Ravenswood even adds lettuce. Hot Doug’s in Avondale has been known to put grilled onions on its Chicago-style dog and Chicago’s Dog House in Lincoln Park offers Vienna Beef franks with toppings like brie and pear or hummus, while the venerable Susie’s Drive Thru in Irving Park adds red bell pepper as well as serving items such as a gyros dog and a Reuben dog. But noncanonical add-ons are mostly reviled.
“Long ago, we served a radish and a green onion,” Maurie Berman recalled. “It was not a success.”
Related posts:
Help wildlife and families affected by the BP disaster and enjoy some of Chicago’s best eats. A $50 donation to Gulf Coast oil spill cleanup gets you into a benefit hosted by some of some of the city’s hottest eateries. The event takes place 5–7 p.m. Sunday, July 25, at the Peggy Notebaert Nature Museum in Lincoln Park and features a silent auction, open bar and grazing rights through fare prepared by such restaurants as:
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Big Jones, Andersonville
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The Bristol, Bucktown
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Eli’s Cheesecake, Dunning
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The Girl and the Goat, West Loop
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Heaven on Seven, Loop, River North and Naperville
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Hot Chocolate, Wicker Park
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Kith and Kin, Lincoln Park
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Lockwood, Loop
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Mana Food Bar, Wicker Park
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Naha, River North
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Perennial, Lincoln Park
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Prairie Fire, West Loop
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Prairie Grass Cafe, Northbrook
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Purple Pig, Magnificent Mile
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Sepia, West Loop
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The Southern, Wicker Park
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Vie, Western Springs
Beverages from Death’s Door Spirits, H2 Vino, North Shore Distillery and Rare Tea Cellar also feature. More information.
 An example of Hsu’s dessert artistry. (Photo by Paul Strabbing.)
 En-Ming Hsu
This mouth-watering “Five-Star Plated Dessert” is by World Pastry Champion En-Ming Hsu, chef-instructor at The French Pastry School at City Colleges of Chicago. Hsu demonstrated it earlier this month when she was named 2010 Pastry Chef of the Year by the World Pastry Team Championship. The former Ritz-Carlton Chicago executive pastry chef served as team captain of the United States Pastry Team that took the Gold Medal at the World Pastry Cup in Lyon, France, in 2001 and last year was named Dame de l’Anneée by the Académie Culinaire de France.
If a group of Illinois food nannies including the Illinois Public Health Institute have their way, you might soon be paying a fat tax on those $1 Cokes at McDonald’s, not to mention your rum and Coke at Cafe Laguardia and pop-based cocktails at lounges all over the state. CBS 2 reports that the coalition wants to boost beverage taxes as a means of battling public obesity:
Illinois Public Health Institute CEO Elissa Bassler said, “Maybe changing the ways we use beverages can be a part of handling obesity.”
Just like high liquor taxes put an end to alcoholism.
What do you think? Would increased taxes on soda pop make you give up Coke and Green River and drink water instead? Or will you just have a beer?
As for me, you can take my Coca-Cola when you pry it from my cold, dead, fat hands.
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