Looking back on the summer, I realize I’ve already devoted an unequal percentage of this real estate to the subject of hot dogs. And here I go again! Whats behind my obsession? Maybe I still have the tastes of a 10 year old. Maybe — as the Godfather of roadfood, Michael Stern, expressed so succinctly in a recent conversation — it’s that hot dogs can be such a cheap, tasty, and appealing blank slate for showcasing regional flavors. Or maybe its just in the water; one thing’s for sure: New England — the part of the country in which I was born, raised, and still spend a lot of my time — is certifiably weiner-mad.

In fact, I’d like to make a case to the tourist boards of the Northeast: as Kentucky has its bourbon Trail and Northern California its wine trail — why not put together an official New England Hot Dog Trail? Proudly plaster it on billboards, and talk it up over the airways. Call it good, clean, belly-fulfilling fun for the whole family.

Actually if you spend some time online, you’ll find a few enterprising eaters have already gotten a head start on the project (really: this amazing Google map could occupy an entire season’s worth of meals). But you could just as easily focus your tour to a single state — like Connecticut (my home state, which happens to boast a particularly robust assortment) or a roadway (like Route 1, a great old blue highway, that runs along the entire coastline). To get you started, here are two picks from just those two places:

Frankies
700 Watertown Avenue
Waterbury, CT
203-753-2426

Frankies is an institution in Waterbury, a slightly down at the heels — but to my eye, shabbily beautiful — old manufacturing city in the heart of the Naugatuck valley. The stand is perpetually busy, but lunchtime is when things really heat up — and when you approach the order window here, you’re as likely to be standing next to your your garbage man as you are your governor. Frankie’s was started in 1933 by brothers Frank and Paul Caiazzo and quickly gained a cult following for their signature “super” extra-long weenies. Still family owned, they now have more than five locations across CT. Each dog measures 12 full inches, and is carefully grilled to order so that the charred casing gives a slight crunch with every juicy bite, and is nestled in a custom sized, buttery, toasted split-top bun. To dress things up, you can take your pick from a smorgasbord of toppings (chili, onions, mushrooms, cheese, bacon) — but regulars always reach for for Frankie’s homemade spicy relish: a slippery, sweet and hot pepper spread that’s perfect swirled with a snake of mustard and packs a sneaky bite.

Flo’s
1359 Route 1
Cape Neddick ME

I pulled up to Flo’s at 1:30 yesterday to find a line stretching out of the screen door, past the picnic tables, and around the front of the lowslung red “shack” that sits just steps off Route 1. Flo’s does only dogs does them only one way: steamed. But they are done oh so very well: each stubby, slim, natural casing frank is freshly prepared to order (know what you want when you get there, and be prepared to wait!) and packed in its perfect companion — a steamed bun, so soft and yielding it forms a pillowy cocoon around the dog that reminds me of what might happen if a slice of Wonder-bread mated with a corndog. Flo’s has been beloved in these parts since Florence Stacy herself started the business in 1959. Now the operations at the stand are headed up by her feisty, but friendly daughter-in-law, Gail. Tradition dies hard here. There is no ketchup in sight. Indeed, the signature Flo’s dog is a true original: a weenie dressed with a dollop of Flo’s secret hot sauce (a sweet/spicy meatless chili that has hints of onion, hot pepper, brown sugar, and maybe even a bit of tamarind) and a ribbon of cool mayonnaise. Oh. My. God. Trust me, it’s so much better than it sounds.

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