Correction Sarge,
Hold the 10th element listed above. In the words of Dirty Harry: "Nobody, but nobody, puts ketchup on a hot dog anymore!"
A great dog doesn't need it. But when I get that insane craving (maybe once a year) for the food of my childhood and break open a pack of Oscar Meyer, the more ketchup the better
In fact, I dislike the common hot dog (I didn't even like it as a kid but was forced to eat it or starve). I only eat that kind of hot dog now as an excuse to load up on, and enjoy, the condiments. The explosion in your mouth created by the clash of flavors--French's mustard (must be French's...I'm creating the common midwestern man's cheap food here), Heinz ketchup and relish, and a good onion--can't be beat.
The Holy Grail of dogs was the garlic hot dog served in the 50s, 60s at Cleveland Indians' games at the old, and much lamented now, lakeside stadium (officially Municiple Stadium but I don't recall people actually calling it that). That marvelous dog needed nothing extra, not even mustard. Just plain glorious meat on a bun.
Sarge
