Victor Kerlow Dear Diary:
On our usual Mother’s Day outing, my mom, my sister and I went to Gray’s Papaya on 72nd before our trip to Harry’s Shoes in the 80s. We all ordered the usual, frankfurter with sauerkraut and mustard, a New York specialty that I grew up with. Next to us were two businesswomen ordering for themselves.
Now, before I relay this part of the anecdote, I would like to offer a disclaimer. I feel that as a lifelong New Yorker I have a natural-born right to be biased about two things: pizza and hot dogs. There is nowhere else where these delicacies are done better.
Dramatically, they ordered hot dogs with American cheese and a Coke on the side! Now I understand, to a degree, chili or maybe even ketchup, but shunning both the celebrated papaya and classic toppings? Unacceptable.
After the order, my mom, the counterman and I all shared a common expression of disbelief and disgust. Should we explain to these poor souls what a hot dog really is? Maybe they misunderstood and could be saved?
Unfortunately part of the experience of Gray’s Papaya is that the customer is always right, and the counterman had to grudgingly collect their order, quite possibly from an area of the grill that hadn’t been touched in months.
I now regret my decision not to interfere, knowing that one day a New Yorker far more aggressive than me will give them the lecture they deserve â€" the appropriate condiments to place on a New York hot dog.
Read all recent entries and our updated submissions guidelines. Reach us via e-mail diary@nytimes.com and follow @NYTMetro on Twitter using the hashtag #MetDiary.
