mark_asphodel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mark_asphodel) wrote2014-07-06 10:47 pm
mark_asphodel) wrote2014-07-06 10:47 pm
Entry tags:
Coney Island Caper
It was a Yes Detroit kind of night; we were on our way back from setting up a new astronomy event at Mt. Elliot Park by the current northern terminus of the Riverwalk. We'd thought about getting something to eat down there by the river, but the Tigers were playing a home game tonight and we didn't want to deal with that kind of mess. I suggested we try one of the new hipster spots in Corktown, but my husband had a different idea.
I thought he was joking when the patriotic awning of American Coney Island came into view. I think my stomach lurched a little, though that might've been from the way the awning advertised the new Las Vegas branch of this Detroit institution.
"I've always been more of a Lafayette man myself," said my usually excellent spouse as he pulled the car into a one-hour spot.
Lafayette presents a grim gray face to the street; inside it proved equally cheerless. It's been around since '36 and I'm guessing it was redecorated last sometime in the Eisenhower administration. The red vinyl seats were cracked through, revealing yellow stuffing, and a few touches of pale-green paint on the walls wouldn't have been out of place in an old state hospital. The metal cash register belongs in The Henry Ford; don't even think about paying with plastic here. It was packed, though, with a diverse crowd... if the well-dressed young Asian ladies were chowing down alongside guys in Harley-Davidson vests, I might as well give it a try.
If you don't like chili dogs, Lafayette doesn't have much to offer. There arechili Coney dogs, bowls of chili, chili fries, "loose hamburger," and chili Coney dogs with loose hamburger aka the Lafayette Special. Also there's pie and some donuts of uncertain provenance in a glass case. My husband went for the Special plus chili cheese fries, while I broke down and ordered a Coney plus a bowl of soup.
They were, of course, out of soup. I substituted lemon pie for the soup. Service wasn't exactly friendly but it sure was quick, and in short order I was staring down my first-ever real Coney Dog. Now, all the local coney joints source their dogs from different, venerable local sausage makers, and every joint has its own chili recipe which isn't remotely like Texas chili and isn't quite like Cincinnati chili, and there's some debate over what sort of onions go on top, but still it's a chili dog with mustard and onions. Yuck.
I dug in. It was messy, but the dog tasted awfully good (normally I only eat hot dogs that've been grilled outside) and the chili was really... nice. Yeah, it was good. And the chili cheese fries were as superb an example of this, er, delicacy as you'll find. Basically, it's American poutine, and this particular batch could stand proud against its counterparts across the river. So all was well with my first legit Coney Dog experience... until my husband decided to go for broke. We paid the bill, slipped out the back door, and ducked into the red-white-and-blue frenzy of American Coney Island next door.
American was definitely renovated as recently as 1989, when they expanded to form a massive triangle adjoining the narrow space of Lafayette. It's all primary colors and checkered tiles, with more things on the menu. Curiously they also feature a mess of donuts in a glass case like it's something special. You sit at normal tables with no danger of jostling your fellow diners, and the staff tonight was teenagers instead of middle-aged Greek men. My husband ordered one Coney dog, while I went for spinach pie. The pie was soggy but it tasted all right. The coney dog, of which I had one chomp, was more chewy than the Lafayette one-- it put up a fight when I took my bite. This contradicts the assertion of a million online reviews that say the Lafayette dogs have "more snap," but whatever. My husband thought the chili was more sour than Lafayette's. Anyway, while none of it is something I'll return to any time soon, I do have to say that the meal at Lafayette Coney was genuinely tasty, and the time-travel diner experience is more interesting than the glossy, Vegas-happy feel of American Coney.
I guess we're still Lafayette men.
PS: Lafayette serves Molson, while American serves Bud. Neither are something I'll pay money for but it's indicative of the difference.
I thought he was joking when the patriotic awning of American Coney Island came into view. I think my stomach lurched a little, though that might've been from the way the awning advertised the new Las Vegas branch of this Detroit institution.
"I've always been more of a Lafayette man myself," said my usually excellent spouse as he pulled the car into a one-hour spot.
Lafayette presents a grim gray face to the street; inside it proved equally cheerless. It's been around since '36 and I'm guessing it was redecorated last sometime in the Eisenhower administration. The red vinyl seats were cracked through, revealing yellow stuffing, and a few touches of pale-green paint on the walls wouldn't have been out of place in an old state hospital. The metal cash register belongs in The Henry Ford; don't even think about paying with plastic here. It was packed, though, with a diverse crowd... if the well-dressed young Asian ladies were chowing down alongside guys in Harley-Davidson vests, I might as well give it a try.
If you don't like chili dogs, Lafayette doesn't have much to offer. There are
They were, of course, out of soup. I substituted lemon pie for the soup. Service wasn't exactly friendly but it sure was quick, and in short order I was staring down my first-ever real Coney Dog. Now, all the local coney joints source their dogs from different, venerable local sausage makers, and every joint has its own chili recipe which isn't remotely like Texas chili and isn't quite like Cincinnati chili, and there's some debate over what sort of onions go on top, but still it's a chili dog with mustard and onions. Yuck.
I dug in. It was messy, but the dog tasted awfully good (normally I only eat hot dogs that've been grilled outside) and the chili was really... nice. Yeah, it was good. And the chili cheese fries were as superb an example of this, er, delicacy as you'll find. Basically, it's American poutine, and this particular batch could stand proud against its counterparts across the river. So all was well with my first legit Coney Dog experience... until my husband decided to go for broke. We paid the bill, slipped out the back door, and ducked into the red-white-and-blue frenzy of American Coney Island next door.
American was definitely renovated as recently as 1989, when they expanded to form a massive triangle adjoining the narrow space of Lafayette. It's all primary colors and checkered tiles, with more things on the menu. Curiously they also feature a mess of donuts in a glass case like it's something special. You sit at normal tables with no danger of jostling your fellow diners, and the staff tonight was teenagers instead of middle-aged Greek men. My husband ordered one Coney dog, while I went for spinach pie. The pie was soggy but it tasted all right. The coney dog, of which I had one chomp, was more chewy than the Lafayette one-- it put up a fight when I took my bite. This contradicts the assertion of a million online reviews that say the Lafayette dogs have "more snap," but whatever. My husband thought the chili was more sour than Lafayette's. Anyway, while none of it is something I'll return to any time soon, I do have to say that the meal at Lafayette Coney was genuinely tasty, and the time-travel diner experience is more interesting than the glossy, Vegas-happy feel of American Coney.
I guess we're still Lafayette men.
PS: Lafayette serves Molson, while American serves Bud. Neither are something I'll pay money for but it's indicative of the difference.