Opinion & Comment

Hillbilly Hot Dogs

APPALACHIAN NOTEBOOK, BY STEVE ODEN

My wife was apprehen- sive when I turned off St. Rt. 2 in Lesage, West Virginia, and our pickup truck stopped in front of a dilapidated shack, flanked by the rusty shell of a school bus (sans wheels, of course) and leaning plank signs with hand-scrawled letters in black paint.

ÒIÕm not sure about this place . . .Ó she said, casting wary eyes around the parking lot. It was hard to take everything in at a single glance. From old wash tubs to skeletons of ancient wagons, the landscape was classic Appalachian foothills: a dizzying visual array of cast-off metal, old tires, furniture, and cheap plastic yard art. Even the trees were festooned with junk.

Under a Òshoe tree,Ó from which dangled worn-out footwear of every description, sat a man at a picnic table, happily stuffing food in his mouth.

ÒGotta have my hot dog fix every few days,Ó he chuckled, licking chili sauce off his fingers.

Welcome to Hillbilly Hot Dogs, one of the most unusual eateries east of the Mississippi River and the brainchild of a Hollywood, California, city girl and her West Virginia husband, Sharie and Sonny Knight.

With menu selections under such headings as ÒWet Yur WissleÓ (soft drinks), ÒDeezertsÓ (shakes, sundaes and floats), and ÒRabbit FixinsÓ (salads), Hillbilly Hot DogsÕ owners have built a sizeable business, drawing customers from a three-state area. They are preparing to launch franchises for their Òfast-food-at-a-slower-paceÓ restaurant ideal in Kentucky, Tennessee, Ohio and other parts of Appalachia.

It is simply impossible to grab a quick bite at Hillbilly Hot Dogs. The service is fast and efficient; the food Ñ based on a magical concoction of homemade chili sauce applied to beef franks, fried bologna (hillbilly round steak), burgers and chicken Ñ is tasty and possibly addictive. The decor is pure redneck . . . and so much fun, even staid and uppity Yankees will want to check their family trees for possible hillbilly Òcuzzins.Ó

ÒAll this,Ó said Sonny, proudly waving at a jumbled half-acre of flea market and junkyard inventory, Òwas donated by our customers. TheyÕve helped us decorate, and they keep bringing stuff.Ó

The old school bus is actually a dining room, decorated with thousands of customersÕ names scrawled on the walls and roof. The hot dog shack (with a sign directing customers to Òorder grub rite cheerÓ) features floor-to-ceiling stacks of old eight-track tapes, velvet paintings, antique farming tools, feather boas, kitchen implements, toys, moonshine jugs, and memorabilia from garage sales, closet cleanings and rummages. Clippings from newspapers, books and magazines paper the walls, crowded by photos of happy patrons stuffing their yawps with sauce-slathered hot dogs. Sherie and Sonny knew they had a good thing going after opening Hillbilly Hot Dogs when a train conductor stopped his engine and allowed passengers to alight and buy lunch. Soon, the hot dog stand had evolved into a sprawling monument to the stereotypical image of Appalachia where, according to Sonny, the vision is realized of Òa true hillbilly kickinÕ back, taking it easy, and enjoying life.Ó

Bill Smith, after parking his Harley motorcycle and shedding his black leather jacket, agreed that Sherie and Sonny might have achieved redneck nirvana. HeÕs a regular. Reared in the Deep South near Selma, Alabama, Smith said it was easy for him to identify with Hillbilly Hot Dogs. ÒGood food and great folks keep customers coming back,Ó he said.

Sonny greets diners like long-lost mountain kinfolks. Ask him, and heÕll sing the ÒWeenie Song.Ó What about the famous foodstuff on which the four-year-old Hillbilly Hot Dogs is based? The menu staple comes in a bewildering array of dressings. The Hillbilly Hot Dog is garnished with homemade sauce, mustard and onions. The Hound Dog features barbecue sauce; add slaw for the West Virginia Dog; the Old Yeller Dog has cheese and slaw; the Junkyard Dog has everything except the kitchen sink.

For the truly adventurous, there is StacyÕs Flu Shot, a hot dog with jalapeno peppers, which comes with the warning: ÒThis flu shot will kill anything thatÕs ailinÕ in yer head!Ó

Those who donÕt care for weenies can select hillbilly submarine sandwiches, chicken tenders called Barnyard Bird Dogs, Achy Breaky Flaky Steaky sandwiches, Big Bad Bubba Burgers, or Tanker Taters (extra large baked potatoes stuffed with ingredients).

After consuming several Hillbilly Hot Dogs and chatting with the owners and fellow customers, my wife and I hit the road again, promising that weÕd remember the place where the humble weenie has been elevated to the status of cultural icon. Granted, the culture is pure old-time Appalachia, an image that people in other parts of the nation use to define our region as backwards.

I doff my hat to Sherie and Sonny Knight for having the courage to be true to our mountain heritage and to share it with those curious and courageous enough to pull off the highway when theyÕre hungry for a hillbilly weenie.

For more about the KnightsÕ eatery (and to see photos and hear the ÒWeenie SongÓ) visit www.hillbillyhotdogs.com.