Nogales Dogs Border on Perfection
Every night around 6 pm at the corner of Indian School and 20th Street, the Guitar & Keyboard Center parking lot transforms into one of the great foodie haunts of Phoenix. I’ve passed by the cart and the crowd of patrons occupying the tables there a few times without stopping, but finally just couldn’t resist. It was as if a magnet were drawing me to my first Nogales hot dog.
Why didn’t I stop at Nogales Hot Dog the first time I saw it? The problem is that I’ve been weaned on Chicago-style hot dogs and I can tell you one thing with a great deal of certainty: The folks in Chicago and Nogales dress their hot dogs in a very different manner. How many times have you walked by a condiment table at the ballpark with all of the standards: ketchup, mustard, relish, onion and maybe sauerkraut? Well… the condiment table at Nogales Hot Dog has salsa, guacamole, cheddar cheese, quesa fresca, jalapeños and sliced mushrooms. When I strolled up to the cart for the first time, I immediately knew the experience was going to be very different.
The base for constructing a Nogales dog is the fantastic bun pulled straight out of the steamer. This is no ordinary bun; it’s sturdy and almost brioche-like.
Then things start to get funky. I’m asked, “Do you want mayo?”
My inner Eliot starts talking to myself, mayo… mayo on a hot dog, is this a trick??? I remember back to the days of my youth working at a deli. When someone ordered corned beef with mayo on white bread it was considered a sin by the old man who had sliced corned beef for the last 20 years, and the request was met with the proper amount of derision. But the look in the eyes of the lady who works the cart says yes, so yes rolls off my lips.
Next she places a bacon-wrapped hot dog on my mayo-smeared bun. Now this is something that I have had many times, almost like a Francheezie (bacon-wrapped hot dog with melted cheddar). Did I want beans, onions, tomatoes? Yes, yes, yes. Now it’s time to pick what I want at the condiment table. I decide to go with guacamole, cheddar, quesa fresca and a dollop of salsa. I like spicy, but not hot, so I skip the jalapeños. I also skip the mushrooms: sliced mushrooms and hot dogs just are not sensory associations that my stomach can handle.
My initial bite into the Sonoran-style hot dog is a fight between my mind and my taste buds. Why? Well because my mind has to get past a few decades of eating hot dogs strictly in the Chicago style (well, maybe a few times in New York style, not to mention a zillion chili-cheese dogs).
But as my taste buds take over, my head kind of dips back and rolls forward in hot dog love. The bun is fluffy without being out of proportion to the dog and the fixin’s. The medley of bacon wrapped around a dog with the beans, onion, tomatoes, unctuous guacamole and cheese makes me swoon. And the zippy salsa makes my lips sting just a little. Ohhhh, do I love Nogales Hot Dog.
I later consult with beer maestro Matt Pool, proprietor of the Roosevelt, for the proper way to wash down a Nogales hot dog. Matt says, “I love that place. Standing on a corner in the parking lot of a keyboard store eating a hot dog with beans on it—it just does not get better than that. It calls for an ice-cold can of Tecate and a lime.”
Nogales Hot Dog, 1945 E. Indian School Rd., Phoenix. The picnic tables surrounding the Nogales Hot Dog cart are usually pretty full until closing time, which is midnight Sunday through Thursday, and 1 am on Friday and Saturdays.