Ask me about celery salt, and I’d tell you a love story

Ask me about celery salt, and I’d tell you a love story

I was walking down the spice aisle of the grocery store, restocking on some staples when I saw it. Celery salt. I heard my husband’s voice in the back of my head: “Stick to the list”, but asking a Chicagoan to ignore celery salt? A ridiculous request.

This is the smallest, and yet most critical ingredient to one of my favorite dishes as an Illinoisian – the Chicago dog. Piled high with more ingredients than almost any other hot dog, this dish has something for everyone. The zing from the mustard, the juiciness of the pickle spears and tomato slices, the bite from the onion, the heat from the sports peppers, and of course, the vegetal, distinct flavor of the celery salt.

And in case I have to tell you: absolutely no ketchup. Pretty sure it’s illegal.

For me, a Chicago-style hot dog is greater than the sum of its parts. It’s a borderline-cacophony of flavor that just works. The first time I enjoyed one, I was around thirteen years old, and we were exiting one of Chicago’s museums and a gentleman was serving these right out of the cart. The sizzle of the beef frank was impossible to resist. We all stood on the lakefront, sun on our faces, essentially unhinging our jaws to eat these hot dogs, but reveling in their flavor nonetheless. I’d attempted to recreate them since, but I was always missing something. And it was this monumental detail: a small dash of celery salt.

“It’s a borderline-cacophony of flavor that just works.”

So I bought it. Now I have it. And while I can’t walk into a Nathan’s or Wrigley Field or the stunning museum campus in the Windy City, I have this to add to dressings and hot fries to take me back to sunny days on Lake Michigan, with all of my family as we enjoyed one of Chicago’s signature delights.