A geographical tour:
I was born and raised in the fine 125 year-old city of Toronto. I had the pleasure of attending high school downtown, something I loved. From age 12 onward, I would commute on the subway to Bloor and Spadina: a practice that empowered me during those rebellious teen years.
I loved being young and having access to the whole city: soccer practice at Christie Pitts park and gym classes at Varsity Stadium. Every day, I would commute from my sheltered, uptown community to the vibrant buzz of the Annex, brimming with left-wing intellects and dirt.
During this time, I developed an socially awkward and unlikely habit: a penchant for street meat. I'd say I averaged one street meat hot dog per week at my worst and I've never lost that soft spot in my heart. I don't trust hot dogs in other cities and I never will.
Even NYC. I dated a gentleman who resided in Brooklyn and the hot dogs were never quite right. They didn't grill the buns like they do in T.O. They were emaciated and anemic with poor bun-to-meat ratio. Ohh, nothing beats the selection at a Toronto hot dog stand: sauerkraut, green olives, hot sauce, different relishes and tomatoes.
There has been a lot of dialogue recently about a new city project which entails aborting the longstanding monopoly of the hot dog. Eight vendors have been selected from a shortlist of 19 applicants.
People seem divisive on the issue, but in true Toronto fashion, they refuse to be happy: either lamenting the long overdue introduction of new street fare or berating the limited scope and selection of the food.
Toronto, you just can't win. You'll never please everyone and don't worry: I'll always honor thy street meat.