REVIEWS

Dying for a Good Dog?
Try the Franks at Matt's

by John Hinterberger, Seattle Times restaurant critic
- taken from The Seattle Times, Tempo - Dining Section/Restaurant review ('Dying for a good dog? Try the franks at Matt's'); February 15, 1996

"The first thing you have to understand is that I am very, very passionate," Matt Jones said, "about hot dogs. I just absolutely love them."

That appears to be entirely true.

A couple of weeks ago, in an article in Pacific Magazine, I lamented the absence of hundreds of good hot dog stands in Seattle, as they exist in many other American cities, notably Chicago and New York. A flurry of cards, letters and phone messages ensued. Essentially, they all said that if there were not legions of splendid hot dog stands hereabouts, at least there was Matt's.

To which Matt heartily concurred. His customers not only travel fair distances to devour his franks, they bring him hot dogs from afar - for approval or comparison. "My customers even bring in chili dogs from Cincinnati," he marveled.

Matt Jones is not a typical restaurateur. Nor a typical hot dog stand owner. He graduated from Brigham Young University with a degree in business, went on for a master's in business administration from the University of Southern California; became a mortgage banker for four years.

"And all the time I was doing that, I wanted to have a hot dog stand." He researched, drew up a business plan and a few years ago bought the Seattle Hot Dog House at the blue-collar junction of Fourth Avenue South and East Marginal Way South. It was not going to be an ordinary tube-steak emporium.

Out-of-town ingredients

"For our Chili Dogs ($2), I bring in Boarshead franks from New York. It has a natural casing that 'snaps' when you bite it. For the Chicago-style Hot Dog ($2.35), we use skinless Vienna Beef wieners from Chicago. We even fly in the poppy seed buns (Mary Ann Buns) from Chicago."

Both are irresistible, and you may be tempted to order either in volume. It could pay off.

"Buy 100 and get a small drink with a lot of ice for 1/2 price," a sign reads.

Matt may be passionate about his hot dogs, but not quite reverent.

His customers may travel from as far as Puyallup (and during my last visit, one guy showed up from Miami), but most of the crowd drifts in from the industrial shops nearby. They eat standing at a couple of plain (but clean) red counters or at a couple of rustic wood picnic tables outside.

The hottest seller (top dog?) is the Chili Dog ($2). It's got mustard and onions underneath a slather of very mild chili, that is more of a sauce than a real bowl of red chili. Jones uses the same chili-sauce on his tamales ($2.75), which are not terribly authentic, but huge and meaty, nevertheless.

Frankly (no pun intended), I'd like a hotter, meatier, more assertive Texas-style chili on the Chili Dog, but they are undeniably good.

Matt's basic Hot Dog ($2.35) is a quite authentic Chicago all-beef frankfurter. The Chicago hot dog is a very specific subspecies of the American classic.

They're a meal in themselves

The Chicago dog always contains: onions, mustard, a sweet relish (neon green), a longitudinal wedge of dill pickle, tomato wedges, one or two mild-hot "sport" peppers and a dash of celery salt over the frank, all of it encased in a steamed poppy seed bun. It's almost always assembled by the proprietor and usually served wrapped in moisture-resistant paper. You may ask for extra mustard, no onions, and so forth, before it's put together, not afterward.

Thus, they are a meal in themselves, containing the four basic food groups: meat, bread, vegetables and celery salt.

Matt's also serves a Polish Sausage ($2.60), similar to the Chicago Dog but richer and spicier, and the Fire Dog (also $2.60), which has more hot peppers. "Hot, but not homicidal," says the menu.

I found the Chicken Sandwich ($2.45), made with minced chicken breast rolled into a cylinder, served on a roll with tomato, mayo and onions) to be a bit bland.

The Italian Beef Sandwich ($4.60) didn't strike me as particularly Italian, although it's certainly filling. About an inch-thick pile of thinly sliced, medium-rare top round is soaked with an au jus, wadded up with sauteed green bell peppers, tomatoes and onions and stuffed into a steamed French roll. Hold it over something before you bite.

Good place with honest food, cheerfully served.

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