A few weeks ago in a roundup of new sandwich shops, our own Andrea Damewood took a controversial position: The hot dog is not a sandwich. I’m not going to refute that, since frankly, I don’t have a dog in that race.
However, I want to make sure the sandwich artists and hot dog aesthetes know that whether or not it’s a sandwich, we Portlanders are unequivocally pro-hot dog.
Between Zenner’s, the nonagenarian sausage company that provides the “official hot dog of the Hillsboro Hops,” to the even older operation at SP Provisions, which began in the 19th century, we know Portland loves sausage.
Right now, relatively new kids OP Wurst are the darling dogs of the sausage-on-a-bun scene. Though Olympia Provisions is less than 10 years old, salumist Elias Cairo is carrying on a family tradition, both in schmancy charcuterie and Wrigley-inspired franks.
You can’t go wrong with the classic frank at OP Wurst. It’s long, gnarled, ugly, and juicy under a reasonable amount of ketchup, mustard, onions, and relish. Most importantly, it has that uniquely hot-doggy feeling on every bite, offering just enough give before the snap ($7).
Hot dogs aren’t perfect for baseball just because the games are long and hot dogs are small enough you can have two—it’s because that snap when eating them is at least sort of exciting, and except for the split second when you think the Hillsboro Hop mascot is a Battletoad, baseball is not usually exciting.
But if even a hot dog isn’t fun enough for you, OP Wurst has you covered. There’s a brat, a spicy Italian, a Pok Pok collab with green papaya salad on it ($10.50), a käsekrainer (cheese in the middle!), a hot dog with Frito pie on it ($10), and many more oddball options.
OP Wurst’s Portland Dog is a tasteful combo of Portland’s fave ingredients: braised kale, pork belly, and hazelnuts. Unlike most foods with “Portland” in the name, nothing feels like a joke; even the rough chopped hazelnuts add a unique, but not obnoxious flavor. Basically, they didn’t put a bird on it, and it’s unironically delicious ($10.50).
However, they do put mac and cheese on a hot dog. It’s backwards: Everyone knows you put the hot dog in the mac and cheese. And the cauliflower cheese sauce at OP Wurst is basically a soup, which means it commits the cardinal sin of mac and cheese: grit in the sauce. I appreciate the ambition, but they flew a little too close to the sun with that one ($8.50).
