Los Angeles, CA (The Joy of Food) — Ah, Pink’s. I’ve been here exactly twice, both times with people whose goal in life it was to eat here even though it means waiting in line for two hours for a freaking hot dog.
For those uninitiated to the tourist trap that is Pink’s, this glorified shack serves up everything from basic chili dogs to single and double dogs weighed down with every unholy topping you can imagine for a total of over 40 possible combinations. The menu of options is vast, built up from years and years of trying to find every possible way to bastardize the humble hot dog beyond compare.
I’ve had a bite of the famed chili dog, ladled with a punishing amount of thick chili so much so that the actual hot dog is submerged, yet it somehow manages not to disintegrate entirely. Chunks of raw onions provide a little texture, the fumes of which get pumped through the air vents and envelope this part of West Hollywood like a blanket.
Something called the Chicago dog has been my poison of choice, restrained as far as Pink’s menu goes. Be warned that the Chicago dog here is not actually anything like a real Chicago dog, missing several of the things that belong on a Chicago dog (banana peppers, a pickle spear, and celery salt) and topped with, of all things, a mound of shredded lettuce. Cute. This ‘salad on a bun’ symbolism will run you $10.
And it gets worse. Famous people who visit get a hot dog named after themselves with whatever concoction they order, usually foul toppings like sour cream (Martha Stewart), sauerkraut (Rosie O’Donnell), and mozzarella (Giada De Laurentiis). Ozzy Osbourne you disappoint me the most — guacamole? On a hot dog? Really?
All the usual accompaniments like soggy onion rings, DayGlo nachos, and the worst french fries I have ever eaten are also on the menu. Naturally, prices do not reflect the product, which if we were being honest would cost about 12 cents. Instead, bring your credit card so you can ring up a mafia sum for a plastic tray of highly processed hot dog parts, greasy sides, and cans of soda.
I’m told the never-ending line at all hours of the day and night is part of the experience. Yadda yadda. Since this is on La Brea you have tons of edible food options within walking distance. I suggest using Google Maps to get yourself over to one of them instead of pounding the pavement here.
If you’re set on a hot dog, I’d recommend Earle’s On Crenshaw instead, a black-owned business that operated as a street-side cart for years, eventually expanding to a brick-and-mortar storefront. It’s a short drive south (depending on traffic) and they keep the hits coming, including an entire section of the menu devoted to vegan options.
Written by Joy
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How is the hot dog itself? My favorite is Nathan’s. I noticed there was a Pink’s at the Fair that didn’t have a line.
I wasn’t a fan of the taste/texture – too tough for the Chicago dog and it was hard to tell with the chili dog given that it had become a soup. I don’t think they’re worth the markup and other outposts (like Vegas) have closed over time.
Ok. I’ll stick with Nathan’s. $5 for an 8 pack and I love the flavor grilled over charcoal on my Weber bbq.
I lived in Hollywood for a year, and never went to Pinks. It was only after I left, and then went back with friends who wanted to experience West Hollywood, that I stood in line for a not-very-good dog.
As for Ozzy Osbourne, be happy it isn’t pickled bat heads!
I was always spoiled with Chicago dogs growing up, made of Vienna beef with that perfect snap every time, so everything else falls short. I know the never-ending combos are part of the appeal, but I’d say Pink’s is for nihilists who like weird stuff on their hot dogs, and I’m going to guess that there’s some correlation between people who like this place and people who put pineapple on their pizza.
Ozzy Osbourne is lots of fun. A dove-topped hot dog also seems up his alley.