Last week I went to the second-best hot dog stand in the world and ordered a couple Chicago dogs with everything, including a pile of greasy French fries that would have kept a Potato Famine family of six going for a week or more. It was my first venture to that hot dog stand in a year, and it was good to find that they still put out the second-best hot dog in the world.
I have been a big fan of Nana’s Hot Dogs since they opened on Irving Park Road in Streamwood in 1973, the year I moved to nearby Schaumburg. Since moving to Huntley 18 years ago, I’ve traveled there less and less, but I happened to be in the neighborhood last week, so I stopped in.
The first time I stopped in at Nana’s almost 50 years ago and ordered a couple dogs to take home, I dashed back the next day to order a couple more. “Your dogs are really great,” I told the lady behind the counter. “In fact, you make the second-best hot dog in the world.”
She thanked me and laughed. “Just out of curiosity,” she said, “who makes the best hot dog in the world?”
“Why, Gene and Jude’s, of course,” I said.
She laughed again. “That sounds about right,” she said. “That’s my uncle’s place.”
Gene and Jude’s has stood on River Road in River Grove since 1950, starting out as a simple trailer that handed your food through the window as you stood outside in the gravel parking lot. Today it’s much more upscale, with a doorway that lets you into a small covered area in front of a counter, where you order your food and then slide to the left to watch it be prepared from the steam bins along the wall. For entertainment while you wait, you are welcome to watch them yank a metal handle to slice the gigantic potatoes and drop them into the boiling oil.
But if you’re expecting more elegance or variety in your dining experience, go elsewhere. Although they do serve a tamale for the adventurous at heart, at Gene and Jude’s you’ll find no burgers, no cookies, no cake or candy. As their motto proudly says: “No seats. No pretense. No nonsense.”
And most important of all, “No ketchup.”
Because if you really want the best hot dog in the world, you’ll get a Gene and Jude’s dog the way God intended Chicago dogs to be: a Vienna dog served hot on a steamed bun, slathered with relish, onion, mustard and sport peppers, piled high with salted French fries and wrapped in white paper that turns so translucent with grease that you could read a newspaper through it.
Ask for ketchup, and they might give you directions to the local Jewel store.
Best…hot dog…in the world!
Gene and Jude’s has been a pivotal part of my life for as long as I can remember. It was the place I would beg Mom and Dad to take me whenever my opinion was asked about what to have for dinner. The first time I drove a car solo, it was to Gene and Jude’s. The first date with a girl in a car? Gene and Jude’s. Likewise with my first double date with another couple.
About ten years ago, I needed knee surgery to repair a torn cartilage. As luck would have it, I wore a Gene and Jude’s T-shirt when I went to be prepped for surgery.
“Best hot dog joint in the world!” the nurse said as she shaved my knee.
Just then the operating surgeon walked into the room. “Oh,” he said, “are you two talking about Portillos?”
“No!!” we both barked at him, and the nurse pointed at my T-shirt. “Portillo’s?!?” she said. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
He looked baffled, because he had never heard of Gene and Jude’s. The nurse and I gazed at each other and shook our heads sadly, as you would at any clueless alien who had just landed and revealed his embarrassing ignorance of even the most obvious of Earth customs.
He vowed to give it a try.
A week or so later I had to return to the doctor for a checkup and stitches-removal. “You know,” the doctor said, “I don’t know whether to thank you or curse you.” He explained that he had hopped over to Gene and Jude’s right after my surgery, because a scheduled surgery had been canceled. “You’re right. Best hot dog in the world. But I like Portillo’s too, and now I don’t know if I’ll ever go back there.”
“Well,” I said, “maybe someday if you’re having a ketchup deficiency.”
It’s been a year or so since I last went to Gene and Jude’s, because I don’t get to the old neighborhood much anymore. It’s more than 40 miles from Huntley, and it takes the better part of an hour to get there.
At a bit over 20 miles, Nana’s is closer, but it too takes a half-hour or so to get there.
Last week, because I just happened to be in Streamwood, it felt fine to settle for the second-best hot dog in the world. But still, it just feels wrong to gaze around as you wait for your dogs to be put together, and to look at the Italian beef, and the pizza, and the burgers, and the red velvet cake….
And the ketchup, for the love of God! Ketchup!
That’s just a cry for help from a joint that’s really good, but doesn’t have the kind of confidence in their dog that makes Gene and Jude’s the best in the world.
Author, musician and storyteller TR Kerth is a retired teacher who has lived in Sun City Huntley since 2003. Contact him at trkerth@yahoo.com. Can’t wait for your next visit to Planet Kerth? Then get TR’s book, “Revenge of the Sardines,” available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other online book distributors.
