For those of you who love cultural stories, I will tell you about going to Manchester (NH that is) when I was a teenager. You have to start out by knowing I grew up pretty much without grandparents. Oh, I had the standard 4 plus one, but we were military, so I saw them every half dozen years or so, didn't really know them. One day I was in my grandparents' apartment on Sunday morning, and the food was to be "saucisse" (my grandparents didn't speak English). What was breakfast that day? Hot Dogs. And I do have to say, they were SO tasty, and at that time (and for many years) I didn't like hot dogs at all. Both the hot dogs and buns were steamed (not boiled or fried), and they were served with the regular breakfast foods. Oh, yes ... does anyone else connect celery salt with hot dogs? have no idea whre that started, but it was the traditional accompaniment when I was a child, and my Quebecoise grandparents would not have served hot dogs without them. Both my memeres were known for being lousy cooks, this was a pepere thing.
AS much as I claim to not like hot dogs, isn't it amazing that a couple of my favorite memories involve hot dogs. I'm sure Freud could find something there!!