There have been some changes since you last heard from me. Namely, I went vegan. What? How does a self-proclaimed cow-loving carnivorous culinary voyager swear off nearly half the world’s ingredients? Suppress your shock and awe, folks. Before you drop your newspaper and give up on me forever, let me just say—I’ll be eating all things animal for the sake of this column (or at least that’ll be my excuse if PETA ever comes knowing at my door).
I know that’s kind of like calling myself a virgin while having sex for research, but that’s why I won’t be calling myself vegan anymore. In the privacy of my kitchen and groceries, it’ll be tempeh and tofu all the live-long day. But on the streets of L.A., plain guac tacos don’t cut it and foregoing carne asada is blasphemy. So without further adieu, I give you…
Pink’s. If you needed any proof that I won’t be treading lightly on this animal-laden path, here’s a place where you can get meat served on top of your meat, with some more meat on the side. Pink’s has served hot dogs to the stars on La Brea Blvd. since 1939, when it began as a taco truck-esque cart. It has since evolved into a modest storefront with ample seating, a spattering of signed celebrity photos and one hell of a kitchen viewing gallery to drool over while you wait in line.
This line was over an hour long when I visited on Labor Day. Call it masochistic, call it crazy—just make sure you bring some entertainment. I came armed with a crossword puzzle while the ladies behind me brought Pinkberry, proving that you can have dessert before dinner. After the first half hour, you start catching smells from the open kitchen, then you round the corner and it hits like an epiphany—THIS is why I’m waiting in this line.An assembly line comes into view, where practiced sausage stylists adorn dogs with every topping imaginable. Sour cream? Ok! Melt-in-your-mouth pastrami? Sure thing. Strikingly adept at their craft, these ladies ladle chili and sling onion rings as if no one was watching. Mind you, they could count on at least twenty salivating faces staring back at them, should they choose to look up.
The menu has 14 regular hot dogs, five special dogs and 12 super special dogs. Most hover around four dollars, though many are cheaper. Only one exceeds six bucks, the Three Dog Night, but you get your money’s worth with three hot dogs wrapped in a giant tortilla, three slices each of cheese and bacon, chili and onions. Other super specials include the Mulholland Drive dog, the Martha Stewart dog and the Lord of the Rings dog—a ten-incher encircled by onion rings, nested in a bun and topped with BBQ sauce.
Pink’s is known for their ten-inch dogs that snap when you bite into them. Unfortunately, their Patt Morrison vegan Baja Veggie dog does not snap. I tested it out, thinking Mr. and Mrs. Pink wouldn’t put it on the menu if it wasn’t delicious. I did lick the guacamole off the limp, lifeless imposter, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat the thing itself. The bacon chili cheese dog, on the other hand, did not disappoint, and the ridiculously cheap sides helped, too. This is the only place I’ve encountered willing to slop chili onto tortilla chips and for that, they have my respect.
While I unfortunately have a threshold for grease, I’m already planning my next visit to Pink’s. I’ll need to try a plain hot dog to experience the famous snap. I’m also looking forward to cozying up with the Mushroom Swiss dog. I also can’t wait to try that pastrami, though that’s not exactly true—I can wait, and I will wait, however long the line is that day.
For a full menu, visit www.pinkshollywood.com
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