Beijing Boyce

I hoped to be in Shanghai tonight for the International Wine Challenge. Instead, I was in the office - as an atypically blue Beijing sky darkened to black - facing a question that someone somewhere must find more fascinating than which of six Bordeaux is best.

Who delivers hotdogs in our area?

I’m working on a publication, see, and needed a photo of a hotdog - it’s totally legit, none of this pay-site stuff. Just a standard wiener and bun, with a well-placed squirt of ketchup on top… a frank, a red hot, a weenie… what H.L. Mencken called “a cartridge filled with the sweepings of abattoirs.”

It sounded easy enough. (Plus, it gave people a chance to make the obligatory Maggie’s joke - hey, that place does have a fantastic hotdog cart out front.)

I headed to our building’s lobby, where Starbuck’s used to sell a hotdog-like product - maeyo! - but now has horribly dry 18-kuai tuna fish sandwiches and good but pricey 28-kuai chicken Focaccia. The mom-and-pop shop down the hall had a stock of pre-made burgers - with what I’d guess is a 5,000-year-old shelf life - but nothing tubular.

It was time to head upstairs and get out the heavy artillery - our office’s ammo dump of take-out menus. Tim’s Texas BBQ - they have the sausage, they have not the wiener. Steak & Eggs - it’s a dog-less home. [Ed: Wait, they have a JUMBO hotdog but we needed a regular weenie.] Sequoia Cafe - not even a bone. Chimo Cafe - grrr!

Finally, we hit pay dirt, so to speak. Grandma’s Kitchen - the place had dogs. And, in hindsight, why wouldn’t it? After all, they’re Grandpa’s best friends.

We ordered two - one for the lead role, one as understudy. With the total bill below the 50-kuai minimum order, we tacked on a four-cheese pizza. In less than an hour, one happy hotdog was getting its 15 minutes of fame - posing, preening, and showing off its carefully applied ketchup squirt.

Every dog has its day, as they say, and this one surely did. But with the shoot over, and with a little more ketchup, we then had our dogs.