Some times you don’t notice something until you are away from it for a while. One of the things that struck me a few years ago is that you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a Coney Island hot dog joint in the Detroit area. My dad found this interesting article about how the Coney Island became Detroit’s signature food.
Whenever I go back to Detroit for a visit I come back with a gross of natural casing hot dogs and a brick of chili from Dearborn Sausage. I also bring back Vernor’s ginger ale and Faygo pop (red pop, rock and rye, and root beer).
Mmmmm. I’m getting hungry.