Obsession can take many forms,
like Fabergé eggs or vintage guitars. If you grew up in northern
New Jersey, it might even be hot
dogs.
Witness Chris Antista of Ridgewood and
John Molloy of Paterson, who were both
marked at an early age by easy access to
chili dogs at the many hot-dog stands that
dot northern New Jersey. As other children
dream of playing center field for the Yankees or becoming firefighters, both Mr. Antista and Mr. Molloy hoped to own hot-dog
stands. Even as they went into the restaurant business ? Mr. Antista managed
Lansky Lounge and Mr. Molloy served as
general manager of Bridge Cafe ? each
independently nurtured his dream.
For Mr. Antista, the crucial moment
came when he ordered a hot dog at a
Nathan's and was told there was no sauerkraut. "I was profoundly embarrassed for
New York City, and I thought I had to have a
hot-dog place here," he said. Nothing so
dramatic for Mr. Molloy, but he, too, felt the
unending pull of obsession.
And that's how, within weeks of each
other this fall, the two Jersey boys were at
last selling franks: Mr. Antista and a partner, Brian Silverstein, opened Crif Dogs
while Mr. Molloy and his partner, Dorri
Simon, opened Dawgs on Park, scarcely a
block away from each other in the East
Village.
Dreams may coincide, but styles diverge.
Crif Dogs is by design a tribute to unbridled
adolescence with all the subtlety of frat
house graffiti. Nonetheless, the pink, skinless pork-and-beef frankfurter ($1.50 plain)
is mild and lightly smoky, deep-fried so it's
crunchy around the edges, and just right, to
my mind, in its toasted bun with zesty
house-made relish and sweet onions. Of
course, Mr. Antista does not stop there. You
can go so far as a bacon-wrapped dog with
avocado and sour cream ($3) ? not a direction in which I've ever been tempted. The
chili dog ($2) must be a Jersey taste; it
seems rather one-dimensional to me, without much contrast in flavors. And while Mr.
Antista scorns what he calls "the ridiculous
overflowing chili dog," you may still have to
avail yourself of Crif's supply of moist towelettes.
Dawgs on Park is a lower-key place,
where the décor consists mostly of photographs of puppies. The franks, all-beef Hebrew Nationals that are also deep-fried,
have a juicy garlic and onion snap to them,
delicious with sauerkraut and sweet onions
($2), though they are piled so high that the
hot dog falls apart midway through. Maybe
I'm a traditionalist, but the prairie dog
($3.50) with a mild corn salsa strikes me as
a frankfurter murked up with unwelcome
vegetation.
Since the decline of the original Nathan's,
hot dogs have had a checkered career in
New York, well treated in the occasional
deli, passably represented at the papaya
joints, but largely left to the devices of
ballparks and street vendors. Now, thanks
to the efforts of two New Jersey boys who
dared to dream, hot dogs may once again
get some respect. -- Eric Asimov
From "To Go: For Hot-Dog Fanciers, Doubly Good News," The Times, 1/2/02.