It Has Peekle
So the other day, I took my car in to get serviced and was told that I could wait there for an hour or wander around and grab a bite to eat at a few of the small restaurants and stores nearby. My friend, who opted to join me as I got my car worked on, mentioned he was hungry, so we set off on a search for food. What we got was nothing short of an international culinary adventure.
We walked up the main street passed several storefronts housing businesses from nail salons and liquor stores to a place that only sells cheese steaks and Kasper's.
At first glance I confess that I thought Kasper's was a doughnut shop due to its fifty's-style font, but once inside I discovered it is in fact a purveyor of delicious hot dogs...or more accurately...Kasper Dogs.
We walked through the front door, which makes such unspeakably awful noises that everyone inside cringes anytime someone comes in or out, and passed through the threshold toward hot doggy bliss. We were greeted by Helga, a (I presume) Polish woman with a minimal grasp of the English language and no discernible sense of humor.
My friend strode right up to the counter and promptly, without question or hesitation, ordered a Kasper Dog. To which Helga nodded and after placing the hot dog on the bun asked him what he wanted on it. He finished his order and then Helga turned to me.
While she was taking care of my buddy, I perused the menu/board on the wall and my eyes fell on a concoction I suspected was only reserved for angels in heaven. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the words "Pickle Dog" right there on the menu!
My mind began to race...what in all that is holy could possibly be on the pickle dog? Could it be some sort of hot dog/pickle mutation never before seen by man...What if Helga discovered a way to genetically splice a hot dog and a pickle thus creating a pickle/hot dog hybrid that would soon sweep the nation? Or perhaps this mysterious menu item was in fact a hot dog that was pickled in a secret pickling recipe handed down by Helga's ancestors from the Motherland?!
I was so overcome with possibilities that I could scarcely contain myself. With what seemed like all of the strength and self-will I possessed, I pulled myself together and calmly (although a bit too enthusiastically) asked Helga the only question on my mind...here is a transcript of what followed:
Me: What's on the Pickle Dog?
Helga (with a strong Polish accent): It has peekle.
Me: Right. (My dreams are shattered, but maybe she is saving the surprise). Anything else?
Helga: Is dog with peekle.
Me: Ah. (Of course it is.)
After an awkward moment she asked:
Helga: You want peekle dog?
Me: Oh yes, I want pickle dog. (I NEED pickle dog)
Helga: With everything?
Me: Um, I guess everything but relish, since it already has pickle.
Helga: Yes, that is too much peekle.
And this is what she handed me:
And it was glorious. with just the right amount of peekle.
We walked up the main street passed several storefronts housing businesses from nail salons and liquor stores to a place that only sells cheese steaks and Kasper's.
At first glance I confess that I thought Kasper's was a doughnut shop due to its fifty's-style font, but once inside I discovered it is in fact a purveyor of delicious hot dogs...or more accurately...Kasper Dogs.
 |
| This place screams donut shop to me...I mean the font looks like icing |
We walked through the front door, which makes such unspeakably awful noises that everyone inside cringes anytime someone comes in or out, and passed through the threshold toward hot doggy bliss. We were greeted by Helga, a (I presume) Polish woman with a minimal grasp of the English language and no discernible sense of humor.
My friend strode right up to the counter and promptly, without question or hesitation, ordered a Kasper Dog. To which Helga nodded and after placing the hot dog on the bun asked him what he wanted on it. He finished his order and then Helga turned to me.
While she was taking care of my buddy, I perused the menu/board on the wall and my eyes fell on a concoction I suspected was only reserved for angels in heaven. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the words "Pickle Dog" right there on the menu!
My mind began to race...what in all that is holy could possibly be on the pickle dog? Could it be some sort of hot dog/pickle mutation never before seen by man...What if Helga discovered a way to genetically splice a hot dog and a pickle thus creating a pickle/hot dog hybrid that would soon sweep the nation? Or perhaps this mysterious menu item was in fact a hot dog that was pickled in a secret pickling recipe handed down by Helga's ancestors from the Motherland?!
I was so overcome with possibilities that I could scarcely contain myself. With what seemed like all of the strength and self-will I possessed, I pulled myself together and calmly (although a bit too enthusiastically) asked Helga the only question on my mind...here is a transcript of what followed:
Me: What's on the Pickle Dog?
Helga (with a strong Polish accent): It has peekle.
Me: Right. (My dreams are shattered, but maybe she is saving the surprise). Anything else?
Helga: Is dog with peekle.
Me: Ah. (Of course it is.)
After an awkward moment she asked:
Helga: You want peekle dog?
Me: Oh yes, I want pickle dog. (I NEED pickle dog)
Helga: With everything?
Me: Um, I guess everything but relish, since it already has pickle.
Helga: Yes, that is too much peekle.
And this is what she handed me:
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| Peekle Dog...in all it's glory (photo by ScottySauce via the interwebs) |
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