Five Guys: Hankering for a Hot Dog

There are dogs, and there are dogs, and then, there is a Five Guys hot dog.

You know how a tendril of steam rising from a plate not only carries the fragrance of the dish but also has the power to catapult the diner straight into another (hopefully wonderful) experience? Well, that is what happened the first time I went to Five Guys.

I'll admit I was among the uninitiated until recently. Not even the President's allegiance to the franchise had swayed me into a tinge of curiosity. I mean, it's a burger joint, right? So they have fries – so what? (Cue chorus of groans from Five Guys devotees/fanatics). I couldn't have been more wrong.

Thanks to a friend, colleague, and fellow foodie, I had only to mention my craving for a classic dog combination (bun, pickle relish, sharp mustard), and he suggested we head over to Woods Crossing Road, just behind Haywood Mall. Really?

Being one of those willing-to-try-anything-once sorts, I arrived at the appointed time with a healthy dose of skepticism in my oversized purse and a chip on my shoulder that comes from having fond memories of grilled hot dogs at Yankee Stadium, a neighbor's backyard, and on those weird square buns they served up at Woolworth's lunch counter back in the '70s.

The place is cheerfully utilitarian; red-and-white checkerboard tile make up their signature decor. You step up, order your combination (their Web site says there are 250,000 possible combinations for their hamburgers), take your number, and find a seat. It's loud, both due to the open kitchen and to the staff shouting each time someone orders a hot dog (curiously, they don't do this for burgers). I ordered my purist combo, and my companion ordered the bacon cheese dog. Oh, and an order of small fries and a couple of soft drinks.

The dining area is packed with tables, and there are some on the sidewalk outside as well. Those waiting for their meals can dip into the generous stash of roasted peanuts in the shell provided by Five Guys. Snapping and throwing shells on the floor, the diners around me seemed to have an air of anticipation I could only describe as "it's already after 1pm and I'm starving." I was wrong on that point too.

When my number was called, I received a brown paper sack, already starting to darken from the oil on the fries. The dog, wrapped in foil, was snuggled on top of a nest of French fries. Once opened, the bag released the unmistakable aroma of peanut oil – a heavenly respite from the dubiously-scented oils found at regular fast-food joints.

The hot dog emitted another distinct scent, which had a dual effect. One, to launch the aforementioned nostalgia; the other, to set my mouth watering. Indeed, that hot dog – split and grilled – was as tasty as any I'd consumed back in the day. And those fries, the whole sackful of them – which I believe could feed a family of four (I took some home and made them with eggs the next day, according to my companion's recommendation) – were simply finger-licking delish.

I was so impressed with the experience, I urged the entire family to go with me the following day so I could try the bacon cheese dog and nibble on my daughter's hamburger. Everything was divine in that decadently greasy way. The fact that it was so fresh, though, eliminated that hung-over feeling one gets when patronizing a lesser eatery.

So, if you've got a hunger for the very best of the fast, get thee to Five Guys. There's one on Pelham Road too, if you're in that neighborhood.