
Each line says how we know it.
The line moves. Tom watched the cook split hot dogs by the dozen about as fast as you can say a dozen.
Attested by Tom, 4 September 2026, standing there watching it. His advice, in his words: the Dog House moves quickly, so don't waste time taking it in.
Tom's claim: the best damn green and red chile in the city.
Attested by Tom as his own opinion, and published as an opinion. There is no score on this page and no ranking behind that sentence.
Red and green together. It takes two sheets of parchment paper to hold it.
Attested by Tom, who ate one and called it ridiculous with affection. Photographed below.
The chili-cheese fries come with processed nacho cheese and red chile sauce mixed together. There is ketchup. Tom did not use it.
His reasoning, attested 4 September 2026: what is the point of ketchup when you have that to dunk fries in. He called the ketchup “such a Pittsburgh thing.”
He first said he was forced into the fries. He was not. He ordered a half chili dog Christmas style, the fries were discussed as a maybe, and they ended up in the basket anyway.
Corrected by Tom within the hour, on the record, and kept here because the correction is the more accurate account and both versions stand on the tree.
There is no full-size chili dog price on it. The board lists a 1/2 chili dog at $3.50, or $3.80 with cheese, and a footlong at $7.00.
Tom said he came for a four dollar chili dog. The closest thing on the board is the half with cheese at $3.80. We publish the board, and we publish the discrepancy rather than quietly reconciling it.
Photographed on site, 4 September 2026. No face is legible in any frame.


