I can't lie, yo, man, my city's the shit!: Chicago Style Hot Dogs

I’m not really one to eat hot dogs. They’re, really, not my thing. But the only kind I can eat is a Chicago Style. All beef. Poppy seed bun. Dragged through the garden. It’s love.

Tsa mentioned “crazy combos” in the comment section of my previous post. The place that Anthony Bourdain went to in Chicago is a good place. But, it’s not a typical hot dog stand. Now, don’t get me wrong. I love it too. I grew up in Roscoe Village, blocks away from it’s original location, and we’d stop by when taking our dog for a walk. But it’s no Murphy’s. No disrespect, Hot Doug’s.

Murphy’s:

I’ve been coming to this place for as long as I can remember. And the hot dogs never disappoint. Believe me. I wouldn't lie to you. It's a little small hole in the wall, that until very recently didn't accept credit or debit cards. It's always packed on summer days, so I cherish it even more when I can get one of the four indoor tables during the winter.

The master piece:

That was my meal on Tuesday. It is the best thing in the world.

This is my family hang out spot. I have extra love for this place. Every time my brother and I go in, the server recognizes us. It's a good feeling. Not one I get every dive I go to. The surrounding neighborhood has seen tons of changes from when I was little, and I'm glad this little gem has remained.