One of the glories of living in a city like Chicago is the broad range of culinary talent that exists here. While it is not illogical to assume that the most famous chefs own restaurants that can quickly empty your wallet unless you are part of the one percent, the notion that the average person cannot afford to sample the best is not always true. There is an almost incredible variety of ethnic cuisines available in different parts of Chicago, for instance, with a range of prices. A decent, reasonable Thai restaurant, Chang Mai (Sticky Rice), for example, opened just two blocks away from us on Western Avenue just this spring.
See what you can do with a former Dunkin’ Donuts store? It’s called adaptive reuse. (DD/BR moved down the street to a new site.)
But in October we will lose one of the most iconic and original establishments Chicago has seen in a while. I first learned of Hot Doug’s, currently at the corner of Roscoe and California, from Doug Sohn’s cousin, Terry Baker, now retired from the Federal Emergency Management Agency, in Washington, D.C. One of the unique things about Sohn, who has operated the restaurant for 13 years, is that he takes all the orders from customers himself. That is why he keeps the place open only five and a half hours daily, six days a week, with the afternoon lines stretching out the door and down the sidewalk almost every single day. He is devoted to the personal touch, and his customers are devoted to his restaurant, which he calls a “shrine to encased meat.” Yes, there is a whole wall inside devoted to the history of that subject.
Rain or shine, they form a line at Hot Doug’s. No one gets to jump ahead.
So, after learning about the place from Terry, I visited on a Saturday with my wife. We waited in the line, finally got to the front, and I informed Doug that I worked through the American Planning Association with his cousin, Terry, at FEMA. Handing him my cell phone and dialing up her number, I asked him to confirm for me that I had in fact patronized Hot Doug’s.
With an impish smile, he listened to her voice mail message—she was not in at that moment—and then dutifully reported that Jim Schwab was in front of him ordering lunch, noting that I seemed to be “a nice man; not wearing pants.” Then he handed back the phone and took our order.
Now, at Hot Doug’s, you don’t just order hot dogs. You order very specific kinds of sausages, which may be composed of elk meat, rabbit, or, if you wish, ordinary beef. Well, not so ordinary once it goes through the Hot Doug’s treatment. Various concoctions bear the names of celebrities, changing with the times, listed on the board. I believe that day there were sandwiches dedicated to Madonna and Elvis, but names and combinations change to maintain the variety to which customers are addicted. These include French fries fried in duck fat, and foie gras sausages.
That latter drew Doug a $500 fine from the city back when the city had an ordinance prohibiting foie gras from 2006 to 2008, when it was repealed. I am personally not a fan of foie gras, including for reasons related to treatment of the geese involved, but I am not convinced that a city ordinance is the best way to address the question, and numerous chefs in Chicago took exception to the ban. Considering the Chicago City Council’s perennial inability to tackle more serious subjects, like school closings, crime, or meaningful ethics standards for its own members, it is hard to escape the conclusion that the foie gras ban constituted political grandstanding more than any heartfelt commitment to the welfare of geese. Doug proudly posted his citation for all to see as an act of defiance.
But this is not a story about foie gras. It is a story about one chef, one entrepreneur, with his own unique vision, which did not include franchising his idea, who insisted on meeting and greeting each of his customers every day, and built a devoted fan base by word of mouth. It is about a restaurant that will draw tears when it closes so that Doug Sohn can undertake what he calls a “permanent vacation.” He even hinted that his new freedom may allow him to visit someone else’s restaurant for lunch, something he presumably has not done for a very long time.
Jim Schwab