Ode to a Tubular Treat
Ode to a Tubular Treat
Ode to a Tubular Treat
by Rick Blum
Whatever they call you, it’s OK by me frankfurter, wiener, hot dog, or weenieconsumed in a diner or deli somewhereeven at the ol’ ball park… if you dareWhat method is best to free thy piquant bouquet?Here is a list of the numerous ways:boiled, steamed, nuked, gently seared on a grill even split lengthwise and fried—what a thrill!
My fickle heart flutters when sleek body you flauntlounging in toasted buns, but never croissantswith spicy brown mustard on top, squiggled outthen smothered in heaps of mouth-watering kraut
Sometimes you’re sliced up, thrown in a milieuwhich I think sadly kills the essence of youwhen blended with pasta tubes all drenched in cheeseor buried in baked beans, you’re just a tease
I could go on forever extolling your charmsbut my stomach is growling, all up in armsso off to the kitchen, to let chef skills flowerthen feast on a scrumptious dog with pickle sour
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Featured in our September 2023 issue, "Jokes"