A Day at the Races

Eastside Road, August 21, 2011—

WE ALL SIN from time to time, so let's keep three things in mind: sin infrequently; don't hurt others; be cheerful about it.

Today we spent the afternoon at the racetrack. It was Dollar Day Sunday, so we bought ten dollar's worth of wooden tokens good for sodas, beers, and hot dogs. At a dollar apiece there was no way to consume all ten, of course: I had two hot dogs, Lindsey had one, we each had two beers. The hot dogs were small bland cereal-laden things on small bland white steamed buns; we helped ourselves to mustard from the pump-containers, and pickle relish spooned out from big containers. The beer was Miller's Light, little more than water.


Once home again, Lindsey confessed she'd planned to have hot dogs tonight in front of the television, because her Cubs were playing the Cardinals. So we went ahead with the project in the spirit of scientific comparison. Niman-Schell frankfurters are better than those things at the track; broiling them is better than steaming them; Downtown Bakery's buns are better than the track had provided; Lou Preston's sauerkraut is the perfect condiment, along with a bit of mustard and some sliced raw onion.

Pinot noir, Fritz (Russian River Valley), 2009