Hot Dogs and Hollandaise

Intertubes, I made a new one today. I had a total jones for hot dogs, but was feeling a tad skittish about the whole wheat buns on top of the fridge. To be honest, they totally suck. If I'm going to throw myself into the ecstasy of a properly grilled hot dog, I want my buns squishy. Seriously, what the hell is the point of eating a hot dog on healthy bread?

So I thought about it, and my next hot dog is going to be on a baguette, gently toasted, and covered with Hollandaise.

The fact that this blog had to learn how to spell the damn thing concerns me, but no matter.
I debated making my own relish, but rapidly discarded the concept, considering I already had messed up my tiny kitchen making the aforesaid sauce.
The boys knew I was up to something, but are trained well enough to know that when I bark back, it generally means, "stay out of the kitchen, and I'll let you clean all the pans later."

The vet said Rummy was four pounds overweight, last visit.

My first thought was, compared to what, a bush? He loves sauces, and happily settles down like a Disney companion character right at the edge of the kitchen, and is very good at getting the leftover fond off the bottom of a pan. George, on the other hand, lolls like a gentle breaker off the beach, enjoying having the sofa all to himself. I've had to restrict his T.V. privileges, because he keeps nosing the remote back to Bravo. There is a finite amount a guy can take of fashion shows.

The grill was hot, the sauce ready, suspended in a bain-marie, and I was ready to go.

It was delicious.

Intertubes, have fun with sauces and hot dogs. Remember, the more complicated it is, the crappier it will taste.

Go see Julie and Julia. If you love cooking, you WILL cry during this film, simply out of joy.

Now, to go create my version of The Mad Hatter's voice. So much for sleep.