Photography Credit: Elise Bauer

Jersey boy Hank Shaw is back, and with his favorite home town hot dog. Enjoy! ~Elise

I was a boy the first time I ate this sandwich. I remember being somewhere around 13 years old at the time, and I went down with my stepfather Frank to a place called the Corner Store in Fanwood, New Jersey.

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Frank always bought the newspaper and coffee at the store, which, oddly, was not on a corner. I can’t remember why we were there around lunchtime, only that I was hungry, and that Frank suggested I get an Italian Hot Dog. Seemed like a decent enough idea.

When the cook handed it over the deli counter, it did not look anything like any hot dog I’d ever eaten. For starters, it was on a sub roll, and was huge. Four hot dogs lurked within that roll, but you could barely see them—they were covered in a jungle of potatoes, peppers and onions that had been grilled on the deli’s flattop.

I took a bite, and instantly tasted a hit of deli mustard. Then the tangy hot dog—I love that pop! you get when you bite through the casing—and finally that curious, breakfasty combination of potatoes, peppers and onions. This was good! I ate the whole thing, which probably weighed close to two pounds, long before we even got home, just a few miles away.

This is my Jersey dog.

I know there are other versions, some with special bread, some where everything inside, including the hot dog, has been deep-fried. I’ve even heard of a few versions of this sandwich that use ketchup, a condiment which, when combined with a hot dog, will get you whacked in most parts of Jersey. I like those Italian hot dogs, too. (Except for the ones with ketchup) But this one always reminds me of that otherwise unmemorable day I spent with my dearly departed stepdad long ago. It’s a memory I still hold close.