Tammi's World

Hole-y Hot Dogs

I was sitting in bed last night just trying to go to sleep and all these weird thoughts are whirling through my head, kinda like a roulette wheel. Well the ball settled on red 6 (don't know if that exists, I don't play roulette) and the topic was "What's up with me and loving to feed people?!?!"

I had friends for dinner the other night. It was so nice. I cooked. I love to cook. To the extend that when I was calling on steel fabricators (smaller shops) I would cook for them instead of buying food. I would offer a lunch for the shop - and show up with my crockpot full of BBQ pulled pork, some sides and at least 2 homemade cakes. I quickly earned the nickname Betty Crocker.

As all women in my family, I started helping out in the kitchen as soon as I could reach the counter and not hurt myself. It begins with cookies, stirring, putting on the pan, arranging on the cookie plate (this at the age of 6). Well, I helped cook my first MEAL when I was around 9. Mom worked evenings so it was Daddy, sister and I. Daddy couldn't really cook, I just didn't know it. To this day I like my fried potatoes very very crunchy. I like my toast double or even triple toasted. Daddy burnt everything - I was 9, what did I know?!?

Anyway, this particular evening I begged to help with the "real meal", dinner. Dad thought about it and said yeah, I could cook the meat. So while he was burning the potatoes, I got to work on the hot dogs. I filled the pot with water and placed it on the stove. I drug a chair over and stood up on it so that I could be in a better position to see what I was doing. Daddy and I standing side by side at the stove - cooking some dinner. :-)

I take a hot dog out of the package and start to poke holes in it with a toothpick. I'm not talking one or two holes, I poked some serious holes. It's a wonder the damn thing hung together. I then carefully placed it in the pan of water and start on the next hot dog. Daddy is watching every move I make. Finally after a couple of these, he asks: "sweetie, why ya pokin' holes in the hot dogs?"

Well, Daddy, I want this dinner to be really really good. You do really good potatoes and I want the hot dogs to be good too. So, I thought if I poked holes in all the hot dogs the juices would flow through and they would be really really juicey.

Daddy looked at me very seriously, and nodded. "seem's you've been thinkin' 'bout this. Sounds like a good idea".

We went back to our dinner preperations. I set the table with everything we need and candles. Daddy lights the candles and we call Dawn to dinner. After we say grace we fill our plates. I'm so quiet (very unusual) and just watching Daddy. He puts a hot dog on his plate and then takes a bite. You could cut the tension with a knife. I'm watching and waiting....is it good? Is it really good? Daddy looks over at me and smiles.

Baby, I think this is the very best, very juiciest hot dog I have ever had. In my WHOLE life.

WHAM That was it. I was hooked. I've been cooking and feeding people ever since. I love nothing better than to have people for dinner, cook a big meal, sit around the table talking, laughing - and to have someone tell me how much they appreciated the meal. That they enjoyed it.

Fast forward to many years to count......I live alone and have a pretty hectic schedule so I don't get to cook as much as I like, especially for company. So to put on the ritz for an evening was so much fun. I have somethings that I always get asked to make, BBQ, Lasgna, baked spagetti, pork roast, my polish pork chops, but I also always enjoy trying a new dish. And when I do, it's funny cause I feel like that 9 year old standing at the stove poking holes in the hot dogs and hoping that my idea works.

Posted by Tammi at August 11, 2004 07:01 AM