HOT DOG!

It is the fourth of July, a day of celebration for me for reasons I will explain below, which go well beyond the celebration of our nation's birthday (or, at least, the CHOSEN birthday: one should know that there are debates about this); however, since this is the "chosen" birthday, there are many traditions that have built up around them. One of them, of course, is the "cookout." The backyard barbecue, where fathers, uncles, men of all types , attempt desperately to prove that they are not afraid of fire, that they can cook, and their guests valiantly try to eat as much uncooked lighter fluid as possible.

You may gather I have a prejudice against these backyard barbecues. Indeed, I do. Growing up, my stepfather, the infamous "Colonel Klinck" as we younguns called him (behind his not insignificant back of course), seemed to have , as his motto "higher flame, shoot the fluid." He would stand there, a figure somewhere in between Vulcan and Buddha, shooting lighter fluid out of a can at the barbecue grill, heedless of how the peach tree leaves were singing, or the hot dogs which approached charred coals, more and more. And of course, since this was MEAT we were all supposed to eat as much of it as we could. And I guess, had it been good, we would have. Instead, we fought fearlessly for Nana's coleslaw, her potato salad, even her cold beet salad (I must say that, for someone reared on Italian cooking and food, Nana made some mean cookout salads). Recently, at a 40th birthday, I had some lovely cookout food, but generally, at a cookout, expect me to be at the salad bar, or drinking myself silly to avoid having to taste the burnt offerings of the grill.

In the midst of all of these musings about cookouts (and I hasten to add, that I do NOT make the mistake of confusing cookout with classic barbecue, or outdoor grilling. I recognize the difference and appreciate both of the latter. I can stand to never see the former again), I read two articles these days that set me to musing on the hot dog. Apparently, by a margin of nearly 2 to 1, hot dogs are American's favorite cookout food. I wonder if this is because of all of the condiments that we put on hot dogs, or the soft, sweet rolls that accompany them, because.. well... have you ever eaten a standard hot dog, naked and unadorned? As a general rule, you are NOT in for a treat. This is even before you read the label, which will make you weep. Indeed, nitrite, a standard, known carcinogen, is laced liberally into those ballpark franks, those hot dogs that are the kind that kids eat, the ones that answer to a higher authority, and so forth. The second article came from one of my favorite television cooks, Maryanne Esposito. On her blog, she confesses to a once a year yen for hot dogs, always on the fourth of july, which she then puts aside for another year.

I confess to the same craving. And this year, two days ago, when my favorite vendor of organic, grass fed hot dogs, ran out before I got there, I cried foul, and tried to content myself with the fact that we had sausages in the freezer, and they would be fine - even though they wouldn't be.

"Mirabile dictu" (bonus points for anyone who can identify the source of that line), the farmers' market WAS opened today. And one of my favorite new vendors, who not only sells wonderful beef and chicken, but is a man whom I could stand and stare at all day without getting tired of doing so, was there, with nitrite free, grass fed hotdogs.

Now I will also confess that, spending 14.50 per pound for hot dogs is not for everyone. But I love the products he sells. And they came home with us (would that he had). And I cooked them a bit differently that you may think, and they were wonderful. I recommend this to you.

I do not have a cookout style grill, but I do have a stove top grill. And I use it a lot. I used it today. I took each hot dog, and wrapped it in pancetta. Now, this idea was inspired by a meeting last night with our commitment ceremony caterer, Anne Rosenzweig, who said that a meal built around bacon was an excellent idea. And not that long ago, I was discussing pancetta with my friend David (also known as Sunshine or Snoopy), and since conversations do not leave my mind that quickly (I have a fast GI tract, but I guess not a mental one), I was still thinking about pancetta. The wrapping was not complete, and it was not neat. It didn't have to be. But it was a good idea, because grass fed meat is very lean. I put them on a lightly greased stove top grill, and cooked them on one side, until the sizzling had stopped, and turned to a crackling. Yup, when I turned them ,the pancetta had browned nicely. I cooked the other side the same way, and within ten minutes, I was done.

They came to the table for lunch, together with some homemade pickles, and a warm potato salad based on lemon juice and olive oil (a distant fifth, in America's favorite style of potato salad). A perfect, fourth of july lunch, if one is honoring the nation's birthday.

But what of the more significant holiday to me? Well, 24 years ago today, Guy and I officially became a couple. Twenty four years of fascinating, wonderful companionship, that deserve much more than a hot dog lunch. So we'll be celebrating "uptown" tonight, at a wonderful restaurant, as we begin the slow movement toward number 25.

A happy fourth to all of you, and may you all one day find, or continue a relationship, that is as wonderful and satisfying as the one I enjoy with Guy