Gourmet dog days at Brasserie Ten Ten
Hot dogs are not supposed to be fancy. But thanks to guys like Biker Jim and his gourmet hot dog cart on 16th Street, the simple, awful-for-you hot dog is becoming passé. All natural and preservative-free is taking the place of the humble lips-and-assholes links; nouveau dogs are now made with exotic meats and other expensive, high-quality ingredients. These interlopers should probably be renamed “luxury encased meats” or “yuppie pups.”
Enter the Brasserie hot dog at Brasserie Ten Ten (1011 Walnut St., Boulder, 303-998-1010). Available only at lunch, the BHD is squeezed into the lineup alongside French classics like the croque madame and bouillabaisse. Apropos to the Brasserie’s chichi clientele, the sausage itself is all-beef and topped with highfalutin versions of the usual trashy toppings. Instead of yellow mustard, it’s artfully zested with the house’s grainy “Ten Ten mustard.” No crappy Kraft cheddar here—just gruyère; big chunks of tomato mix with the gherkin relish; and for the finishing touches, the dog is drizzled with mornay sauce (white cheese and butter) and balsamic vinegar, then sprinkled with field greens.
The Brasserie hot dog is a full meal—salad, meat, and bread—in one bulging package. This dog is a mastiff. A wolfhound. The sausage itself is long and freakishly thick, and everything is stuffed into a big, crusty bun that can barely hold its own contents. People will stare when it’s finally delivered. Well-heeled older couples will whisper to each other over their lunchtime glasses of white wine as it’s lowered to the table. It’s an eye-catching dish, for sure—the untouched hot dog looks like a seagoing vessel. Stick a mast and a sail on the bastard and make like Leif Erikson.
Eating the dog poses its own challenge. Without question, it must be cut in half; this is not a hand-held item. Knife and fork it is, making bites out of the bits of bun, hot dog, and condiments. The Brasserie dog gives a punch to the tastebuds—and the gut—that few traditional hot dogs can deliver. It’s a gourmet take on a familiar item that pays homage to its modest origins; as long as franks like the BHD are being eaten, the gentrification of the hot dog will deliciously continue.
