If the fate of the world hangs on a wiener, put us down for a dozen. But a Saturday visit to week-old Let's Be Frank left us sweating Earth's future.
The Marina hot dog joint is the first storefront venue for LBF, whose carts already ply SF and LA, a project of Larry Bain and Sue Moore. Mad props to Bain and Moore for reinventing the frankfurter along Slow Food lines, but the results contain a fatal flaw: the star ingredients just don't satisfy. Sure, the casing around the grass-fed-beef Frank Dog ($5.50) had delightful pop, but its murky filling lacked the creamy texture and swagger of garlic and spices that makes a frankfurter a frankfurter. A Brat Dog ($5.50), made with heritage pork, likewise tasted flat-out weenie. And sorry, guys, girth totally matters. The sausages' diameter skewed more Slim Jim than Ball Park -- they seemed lost in their voluminous (and slightly rubbery) Acme buns.
Ordinarily we'd say Fine, Americans eat too damn much protein anyway. But something as iconic as a hot dog has to be convincingly hot doggy, or we're just not buying -- even when principle tells us it's the right thing to do.
