Editorial Review for Lucky Dogs – by Pableaux Johnson
The Scene
More a kitschy local institution than a traditional eatery, these weenie-shaped hot-dog carts prowl the French Quarter serving up gastrointestinal ballast for inebriated Bourbon Street tourists. During peak party times, every street corner seems to be occupied by a distinctive red and yellow Lucky Dog wagon manned by a somewhat surly sausage technician.
The Food
When you order a late-night meal from a giant metal frankfurter, there's very little room for mystery or confusion. The hot dogs and spicy smoked sausages are boiled for hours and topped with a simple range of nonperishable condiments: mustard, hot white onions and straight-outta-the-can chili. Not much for taste and definitely no match for NYC's Coney Island dogs, but the Lucky Dog mystique relies more on accessibility than flavor. The drunker you are, the better they taste.
1 comment:
I have not been drunk enough in the last ten years to eat one, but back in the day I thought that they were good.
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