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Raw Dog: The Naked Truth About Hot Dogs
Part travelogue, part culinary history, all capitalist critique―comedian Jamie Loftus's debut, Raw Dog , will take you on a cross-country road trip in the summer of 2021, and reveal what the creation, culture, and class influence of hot dogs says about America now.
Hot dogs. Poor people created them. Rich people found a way to charge fifteen dollars for them. They’re high culture, they’re low culture, they’re sports food, they’re kids' food, they’re hangover food, and they’re deeply American, despite having no basis whatsoever in America's Indigenous traditions. You can love them, you can hate them, but you can’t avoid the great American hot dog.
Raw Dog: The Naked Truth About Hot Dogs is part investigation into the cultural and culinary significance of hot dogs and part travelog documenting a cross-country road trip researching them as they’re served today. From avocado and spice in the West to ass-shattering chili in the East to an entire salad on a slice of meat in Chicago, Loftus, her pets, and her ex eat their way across the country during the strange summer of 2021. It’s a brief window into the year between waves of a plague that the American government has the resources to temper, but not the interest.
So grab a dog, lay out your picnic blanket, and dig into the delicious and inevitable product of centuries of violence, poverty, and ambition, now rolling around at your local 7-Eleven.
Hot dogs. Poor people created them. Rich people found a way to charge fifteen dollars for them. They’re high culture, they’re low culture, they’re sports food, they’re kids' food, they’re hangover food, and they’re deeply American, despite having no basis whatsoever in America's Indigenous traditions. You can love them, you can hate them, but you can’t avoid the great American hot dog.
Raw Dog: The Naked Truth About Hot Dogs is part investigation into the cultural and culinary significance of hot dogs and part travelog documenting a cross-country road trip researching them as they’re served today. From avocado and spice in the West to ass-shattering chili in the East to an entire salad on a slice of meat in Chicago, Loftus, her pets, and her ex eat their way across the country during the strange summer of 2021. It’s a brief window into the year between waves of a plague that the American government has the resources to temper, but not the interest.
So grab a dog, lay out your picnic blanket, and dig into the delicious and inevitable product of centuries of violence, poverty, and ambition, now rolling around at your local 7-Eleven.
301 pages, Hardcover
First published May 23, 2023
728 people are currently reading
17078 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,936 reviews
December 23, 2023
hot dog!
this satisfied two of my driving forces in this life: a) my desire for everything i ever encounter to be funny, and b) my need for gossip. it's essentially a hot dog-filled memoir, like if a pretty amusing person you know did an incredibly specific quest and recounted the quest to you but mostly told you salacious life updates in doing so.
which is a dream.
i also found out while reading this that my boyfriend went to high school with the author, which was both another source of gossip and the biggest reveal i could possibly imagine.
bottom line: fun stuff!
this satisfied two of my driving forces in this life: a) my desire for everything i ever encounter to be funny, and b) my need for gossip. it's essentially a hot dog-filled memoir, like if a pretty amusing person you know did an incredibly specific quest and recounted the quest to you but mostly told you salacious life updates in doing so.
which is a dream.
i also found out while reading this that my boyfriend went to high school with the author, which was both another source of gossip and the biggest reveal i could possibly imagine.
bottom line: fun stuff!
September 7, 2023
RAW DOG is about a trip across America visiting hot dog joints, think of it as a literary Drivers, Diners, and Dives. However this book wasn't what I was expecting. I was expecting a lot more research about hot dogs and American culture and how these things intersect and less jokey. I think there was too much silly for my taste and I wanted more of an in depth look into hot dogs. It is also way too long. There were chapters that really worked (LA, some of the hot dog contest stuff, DC, meat packing) but a lot wasn't for me. The writing wasn't very good and the storytelling was a mess.
February 28, 2023
Finally someone who GETS IT. Proud of the great state of Ohio for Tony Packos but she missed where my heart truly belongs and that’s Dirty Franks in Columbus. Yes I own and wear the merch in LA, no no one ever asks. Hilarious and annoying she says “snap” so much I was transported back to 2005 w my XL jerseys and Soulja boy attitude. Her hot dog journey was actually at the same time as my 2 month cross country road trip to move out here and damn my only hope is that we crossed paths w/o knowing, all wienered up staring at the open road. A true historian. If she can write a book about hot dogs then you can really do whatever you put your mind to! My biggest struggle is what fucking section does this book belong to in the store? Travel writing? Humor? Essays? Gastronomy?
Jamie if you’re reading this (yes Ik you are because ur obsessed w any online interaction, we’re the same age after all [I think?]) come to book soup and sign your books so I can tell you to your face about my hot dog award I won when I worked at the movie theater. That’s not an innuendo.
Jamie if you’re reading this (yes Ik you are because ur obsessed w any online interaction, we’re the same age after all [I think?]) come to book soup and sign your books so I can tell you to your face about my hot dog award I won when I worked at the movie theater. That’s not an innuendo.
July 7, 2023
For a book subtitled "The Naked Truth About Hot Dogs", you would think that the book would be about, well, hot dogs. It is, but in the most tangential way possible.
Sure, there is the obligatory chapter that discusses Sinclair's The Jungle, and there is an admittedly delightful chapter on what goes on behind closed Wienermobile doors (the sole reason I'm awarding a second star), but this is first and foremost a book about the author. This is completely fine, but it's a bit of a bait and switch to promise a wacky and funny book about tube steaks and to end up with a slow burn of a relationship slowly falling apart. When not discussing her relationship or desire to not be in one, the author is sure to share political views regularly. The sad thing is, I'm a staunch leftist and I agree with her political beliefs but by the end even I was sick of hearing about it.
The worst crime of Raw Dog: The Naked Truth About Hot Dogs is that the author sincerely seems to have no passion for the project, lacking any proper adjectives to use regularly besides "snap" to describe the alleged subject of the book. For a book that was given an advance to go on a road trip to try hot dogs all across the country, there were baffling omissions (Olneyville NY System in Providence being particularly glaring) and even more baffling inclusions (Six Flags New England).
I don't like not finishing books just out of principle, but this was tough for me. I could feel the malaise the author surely felt as her relationship deteriorated on a cross country trip buoyed by a less-than-nutritious diet, but that was a hell of a lot less fun than it even sounds when you're expecting a fun and quirky read.
Sure, there is the obligatory chapter that discusses Sinclair's The Jungle, and there is an admittedly delightful chapter on what goes on behind closed Wienermobile doors (the sole reason I'm awarding a second star), but this is first and foremost a book about the author. This is completely fine, but it's a bit of a bait and switch to promise a wacky and funny book about tube steaks and to end up with a slow burn of a relationship slowly falling apart. When not discussing her relationship or desire to not be in one, the author is sure to share political views regularly. The sad thing is, I'm a staunch leftist and I agree with her political beliefs but by the end even I was sick of hearing about it.
The worst crime of Raw Dog: The Naked Truth About Hot Dogs is that the author sincerely seems to have no passion for the project, lacking any proper adjectives to use regularly besides "snap" to describe the alleged subject of the book. For a book that was given an advance to go on a road trip to try hot dogs all across the country, there were baffling omissions (Olneyville NY System in Providence being particularly glaring) and even more baffling inclusions (Six Flags New England).
I don't like not finishing books just out of principle, but this was tough for me. I could feel the malaise the author surely felt as her relationship deteriorated on a cross country trip buoyed by a less-than-nutritious diet, but that was a hell of a lot less fun than it even sounds when you're expecting a fun and quirky read.
June 25, 2023
This book is gross not because it's about hot dogs but because the author is incapable of describing food other than in relation to bodily fluids. Dozens of hotdogs are recounted and the only culinary description of note is whether or not they "snap."
There's something really saddening about the way the author experiences hotdogs. She has three to five in a day, to the point where she can never finish one and they all risk making her sick. Food is endured, not enjoyed.
There is very little educational content about the history behind and making of hotdogs. The author rarely engages in any meaningful sense with the people who run the businesses she mocks.
The part about the Wienermobile was fun. This could've been something much better.
There's something really saddening about the way the author experiences hotdogs. She has three to five in a day, to the point where she can never finish one and they all risk making her sick. Food is endured, not enjoyed.
There is very little educational content about the history behind and making of hotdogs. The author rarely engages in any meaningful sense with the people who run the businesses she mocks.
The part about the Wienermobile was fun. This could've been something much better.
August 28, 2024
My tastes vary. You can catch me (1) eating a footlong corndog at the Houston Rodeo, or (2) traveling internationally for a tasting menu. I hate the in between.
As a hot dog connoisseur, this greatly amused. I'm glad I listened to this on audio, so I didn't end up bookmarking each and every restaurant. As a trick, add your want-to-goes to Google Maps. If you're ever stuck in a neighborhood wondering where to go, you now have a list!
As yet another LA transplant, I had a feeling Pink's was overrated. So if for nothing else, thank you, Jamie, for this information. I would never brave that line, anyway. No food is worth waiting in line for. Signed, a millennial.
🎧 Thank you to NetGalley and Macmillan Audio
As a hot dog connoisseur, this greatly amused. I'm glad I listened to this on audio, so I didn't end up bookmarking each and every restaurant. As a trick, add your want-to-goes to Google Maps. If you're ever stuck in a neighborhood wondering where to go, you now have a list!
As yet another LA transplant, I had a feeling Pink's was overrated. So if for nothing else, thank you, Jamie, for this information. I would never brave that line, anyway. No food is worth waiting in line for. Signed, a millennial.
🎧 Thank you to NetGalley and Macmillan Audio
September 23, 2023
Ok I guess.
This felt like the rushed version of something that really could’ve been amazing. I’m talking travels with Charley, hotdog Americana, heartbreak literature. The ingredients are there just put together poorly. To which I say this is maybe the hotdog literature that we deserve.
Jamie is entertaining writer. But she has a bad habit of sort of podcasting her way to presenting an idea. I’m not sure how else to describe it. She’ll start a paragraph in one place and end up digressing multiple times into further digressions by the end of it. Some thing that starts with toppings on a hotdog in Chicago may go so far afield as to discuss body hair and casual sex in a Disney park. I found most of the topics entertaining, but the organization left me often frustrated. And the best I can do to understand is that the style lends itself to a podcast, in a conversational rambling way, the digressions probably seem very natural, much more than it does for a book.
There are the usual pithy liberal immolations that one becomes accustomed to when reading Californian authors where every enjoyment has to be contextualized and self loathingly chronicled as actually a bad thing. All labor is of course haram. And while the author is better than most, at some point, it just gets annoying to hear of the evils of capitalism, while the writer is still running roughshod through the fields of consumption. You got a book advance and drove across the country to eat hotdogs. People can enjoy things. This book unfortunately splits the difference and ends up with two half babies.
So where does that leave us? The book is entertaining. It’s an easy pool read, if a bit long and digressive at times. It’s kind of fun to learn about hot dogs and to hear about regional differences.
Weirdly, this book falls into the category of book that is frustrating because it is close to being significantly better than it was. there’s the echo of a much better book in there, begging to be freed. A ghost of what could have been in the editing room. But this book doesn’t know what it wants to be. Jamie discussed slaughter houses, waxes poetic about YouTube videos of “how it’s made – hotdog style.” But we never synthesize that into anything larger than just a like “oh wowwee I’m parroting the right things to say that this is bad.” she “tried to go to the hot dog production facility and was denied” and we just leave it there. They sort of a loose mention of how there’s a bunch of “nobody wants to work anymore” signs across the country all of a sudden. That’s apparently good enough for the hotdog book.
Secondly, the author hops and skips around her relationship. But she never really does anything to portray the dynamic beyond a few scattered memories of rotten hotel rooms in Albuquerque and the south east. There’s a travels with Charley style book there. Quixotic quest to gobble Glizzy’s. As a relationship lightens, one’s hips get heavier from the processed meat. I think that story is much more compelling than the random spin offs on things like the gentrification of Charlotte, and whatnot that ended up filling the pages.
The set up, the marketing, the presentation of this book gave me the impression that I would have some substance, and it really didn’t. In a way, maybe that’s the perfect example of what a book about hot dogs is supposed to be. Promise and weird somewhat disappointing filler.
This felt like the rushed version of something that really could’ve been amazing. I’m talking travels with Charley, hotdog Americana, heartbreak literature. The ingredients are there just put together poorly. To which I say this is maybe the hotdog literature that we deserve.
Jamie is entertaining writer. But she has a bad habit of sort of podcasting her way to presenting an idea. I’m not sure how else to describe it. She’ll start a paragraph in one place and end up digressing multiple times into further digressions by the end of it. Some thing that starts with toppings on a hotdog in Chicago may go so far afield as to discuss body hair and casual sex in a Disney park. I found most of the topics entertaining, but the organization left me often frustrated. And the best I can do to understand is that the style lends itself to a podcast, in a conversational rambling way, the digressions probably seem very natural, much more than it does for a book.
There are the usual pithy liberal immolations that one becomes accustomed to when reading Californian authors where every enjoyment has to be contextualized and self loathingly chronicled as actually a bad thing. All labor is of course haram. And while the author is better than most, at some point, it just gets annoying to hear of the evils of capitalism, while the writer is still running roughshod through the fields of consumption. You got a book advance and drove across the country to eat hotdogs. People can enjoy things. This book unfortunately splits the difference and ends up with two half babies.
So where does that leave us? The book is entertaining. It’s an easy pool read, if a bit long and digressive at times. It’s kind of fun to learn about hot dogs and to hear about regional differences.
Weirdly, this book falls into the category of book that is frustrating because it is close to being significantly better than it was. there’s the echo of a much better book in there, begging to be freed. A ghost of what could have been in the editing room. But this book doesn’t know what it wants to be. Jamie discussed slaughter houses, waxes poetic about YouTube videos of “how it’s made – hotdog style.” But we never synthesize that into anything larger than just a like “oh wowwee I’m parroting the right things to say that this is bad.” she “tried to go to the hot dog production facility and was denied” and we just leave it there. They sort of a loose mention of how there’s a bunch of “nobody wants to work anymore” signs across the country all of a sudden. That’s apparently good enough for the hotdog book.
Secondly, the author hops and skips around her relationship. But she never really does anything to portray the dynamic beyond a few scattered memories of rotten hotel rooms in Albuquerque and the south east. There’s a travels with Charley style book there. Quixotic quest to gobble Glizzy’s. As a relationship lightens, one’s hips get heavier from the processed meat. I think that story is much more compelling than the random spin offs on things like the gentrification of Charlotte, and whatnot that ended up filling the pages.
The set up, the marketing, the presentation of this book gave me the impression that I would have some substance, and it really didn’t. In a way, maybe that’s the perfect example of what a book about hot dogs is supposed to be. Promise and weird somewhat disappointing filler.
June 11, 2023
How can you take a fun, quirky topic like hot dogs and turn it into a painful, political slog around the country? I desperately wanted to love this book and in the end I couldn’t even like it.
Exhausting, vulgar (far beyond even what you’d naturally expect in a book about hot dogs written by a comedian), and absolutely joyless, Raw Dog does that pandering thing by breaking the 4th wall (of whatever the literary version of that is) and referring to us all as “reader.” But in the same way they author fails to connect with those around her in her book, appeals to us as readers only drags us deeper into her sodium-induced misery.
Exhausting, vulgar (far beyond even what you’d naturally expect in a book about hot dogs written by a comedian), and absolutely joyless, Raw Dog does that pandering thing by breaking the 4th wall (of whatever the literary version of that is) and referring to us all as “reader.” But in the same way they author fails to connect with those around her in her book, appeals to us as readers only drags us deeper into her sodium-induced misery.
June 28, 2023
I really wish I could like this book, but I don’t. It took me FOREVER to get through the latter half, and all that I really learned is that I don’t like hot dogs nearly enough for me to read a book about hotdogs. I went into the book thinking it was a memoir, and received a confusing jumble of memoir/travel book/history. What irked me the most was how overly casual the author’s tone was throughout the book; the jokes, sarcasm, and overall oversharing-quirky-girl facade undermines the fact that it’s actually very well researched. It brings up important aspects of hot-dog history, especially its ties to political corruption. Overall, a book that leaves you wishing for better.
December 31, 2024
I never thought anyone could store a whole book just about hotdogs. Nor did I ever think I could read such a book, especially since I’m vegetarian. More than the discussion of what makes a hotdog and how they are made, I felt sick thinking about what it must feel like to eat so many hotdogs. Some chapters were light and funny. Others were very serious and talked about heavy topics like racism, sexism, and even rape, (who knew hotdogs could have so much gravitas, right?).
June 20, 2023
This is my most disappointing read of 2023 so far. I can handle vulgar humor (and there was a LOT of it), but some of the "humor was just mean spirited and childish IMO. The parts where she actually described the history of hot dog establishments had such potential but the rest just really didn't make sense to me. Why do a hot dog road trip with your boyfriend if you don't really like either one? I gave it 2 stars because I did finish it.
June 8, 2023
This book is extremely My Kind Of Thing™️. A funny piece of gonzo journalism about a road trip, the history of hotdogs, a breakup. I loved every page. So strange. So informative. Like if Bill Bryson got horny for a restaurant’s cartoon mascot while trying to explain why Upton Sinclair’s book didn’t help socialism take off in America. Read it. Tell me I’m wrong.
June 3, 2023
I was attracted by the promise of humor and the road trip all about hot dogs. What’s not to like? But the every other sentence vulgarity and long sections about totally unrelated experiences was tedious. What does this have to do with the interesting subject of hot dogs? True, the author included warnings in the forward about distasteful topics. I assumed these topics would have more to do with the industry and ingredients, not what happened at some fleabag hotel. She’s a comedian who appeals to somebody, somewhere. Just not me.
April 16, 2023
Funny, charming, and informative! As a hot dog lover who puts ketchup on them, Loftus made me feel safe and welcome in the Dog-o-sphere. Recommend if you like travel narratives, culinary nonfiction, sincere and relatable memoirs, thoughtful and consistent critiques of capitalism, and funny smart women.
May 19, 2023
Aw man, I wish I liked this book more than I actually did. Enjoyed the travelogue and deep dive into our great tubesteak nation, but a little ironic detachment goes a long way. I'm also not sure I can accept the amount of anti-Chicago dog bias on display.
(advance copy via Edelweiss)
(advance copy via Edelweiss)
February 5, 2024
I’m a pretty big Jamie Loftus fan, so I’m bummed I didn’t enjoy this as much as I was hoping to!
Raw Dog follows Loftus’s cross-country hot dog odyssey, in which she travels thousands of miles in the second-pandemic-summer of 2021 to try America’s most iconic dogs, accompanied by a cat, a dog, and a boyfriend she’s on the verge of splitting with. Incorporated throughout are bits of hot dog history, anecdotes and details from Loftus’s own life as of that moment (including the deteriorating state of her relationship and her father’s ongoing cancer battle), discussions of the many forms of capitalist violence that make the hot dog industry possible ranging from the slaughterhouse to the gentrification of hot dog stands, and the weird, horny, gross-out bodily humor that will be familiar to anyone who knows Loftus’s comedic work. If that sounds like a lot, it’s because it is.
Loftus is at her best when she turns her critical eye on one topic and explores it in detail. It’s why her Lolita podcast is (in my opinion) one of the best and most brilliant podcast series of the last five years or possibly ever—the episodic format allows her to laser in on one particular aspect of Lolita’s cultural legacy, and it’s incredibly effective.
Raw Dog isn’t Lolita, of course, but comparing the two makes it clearer what I think Raw Dog needed—focus. I think if Loftus stuck to one or two fewer topics than she did (the hot dog journey AND the deaths—animal and human—that allowed the hot dog industry to keep running during the pandemic, or the hot dog journey AND the personal struggles she was having at the time), she would have been able to treat each individual topic more effectively.
Raw Dog felt, ultimately, like a book in need of more editing, a fact that isn’t helped by the fact that Loftus writes in a voice extremely similar to the one she employs in her podcasts, with lots of little asides and run-on sentences. These are things that work in a conversation and less so in writing. Sometimes, Loftus’s sentence structure left me actually a little confused, and I had to reread the occasional sentence to make sure I understood it.
The best parts of Raw Dog (and there are good parts!) are when Loftus dives into one particular topic and let’s herself stay there. The section on the Nathan’s annual hot dog contest and examination of the gendered and racialized stereotypes underlying its structure and history is a great example of this, and it’s where Loftus’s talent shines.
Raw Dog, to me, ended up like a loaded chili dog with a soggy bun; there’s so much potential for something delicious, but ultimately there just may not be enough structural integrity to hold the whole thing together. You end up with a bit of a mess on your hands.
Raw Dog follows Loftus’s cross-country hot dog odyssey, in which she travels thousands of miles in the second-pandemic-summer of 2021 to try America’s most iconic dogs, accompanied by a cat, a dog, and a boyfriend she’s on the verge of splitting with. Incorporated throughout are bits of hot dog history, anecdotes and details from Loftus’s own life as of that moment (including the deteriorating state of her relationship and her father’s ongoing cancer battle), discussions of the many forms of capitalist violence that make the hot dog industry possible ranging from the slaughterhouse to the gentrification of hot dog stands, and the weird, horny, gross-out bodily humor that will be familiar to anyone who knows Loftus’s comedic work. If that sounds like a lot, it’s because it is.
Loftus is at her best when she turns her critical eye on one topic and explores it in detail. It’s why her Lolita podcast is (in my opinion) one of the best and most brilliant podcast series of the last five years or possibly ever—the episodic format allows her to laser in on one particular aspect of Lolita’s cultural legacy, and it’s incredibly effective.
Raw Dog isn’t Lolita, of course, but comparing the two makes it clearer what I think Raw Dog needed—focus. I think if Loftus stuck to one or two fewer topics than she did (the hot dog journey AND the deaths—animal and human—that allowed the hot dog industry to keep running during the pandemic, or the hot dog journey AND the personal struggles she was having at the time), she would have been able to treat each individual topic more effectively.
Raw Dog felt, ultimately, like a book in need of more editing, a fact that isn’t helped by the fact that Loftus writes in a voice extremely similar to the one she employs in her podcasts, with lots of little asides and run-on sentences. These are things that work in a conversation and less so in writing. Sometimes, Loftus’s sentence structure left me actually a little confused, and I had to reread the occasional sentence to make sure I understood it.
The best parts of Raw Dog (and there are good parts!) are when Loftus dives into one particular topic and let’s herself stay there. The section on the Nathan’s annual hot dog contest and examination of the gendered and racialized stereotypes underlying its structure and history is a great example of this, and it’s where Loftus’s talent shines.
Raw Dog, to me, ended up like a loaded chili dog with a soggy bun; there’s so much potential for something delicious, but ultimately there just may not be enough structural integrity to hold the whole thing together. You end up with a bit of a mess on your hands.
September 18, 2024
what a weird, good, horny yet heartfelt book about hot dogs. Most likely one of my most memorable reads of 2024
November 23, 2023
This book is a combination of both a deep dive into the history, cultural significance, and broader implications of the production, promotion, and consumption of hot dogs and a personal memoir about a road trip Loftus took in 2021 to study and experience American hot dog culture firsthand. I was keen to read this book because I am very enthusiastic about learning more about hot dogs and I think Loftus can be pretty funny. The book ambitiously covers a wide range of topics, from the intricacies of the Nathan's hot dog eating contest to the complexities of the meatpacking industry, presenting a potentially rich tapestry of information and personal anecdotes.
However, the book's execution did not live up to its promise. The content related to hot dogs was surprisingly sparse, and the commentary often felt half-hearted and unfocused. The balance between informative content and personal memoir was not effectively maintained, leaving both aspects feeling underdeveloped and unfulfilling. Loftus maintains a vague and detached tone throughout the book, which undermines the potential depth and insight of her narrative. This vagueness extends from her descriptions of hot dogs — often limited to superficial qualities like their "snap" — to the minimal and unclear discussion of her personal life, including the breakdown of a relationship during her road trip. This aspect of her journey, which she suggests should be obvious or inevitable, receives scant attention, leaving the reader disconnected from her personal story.
Furthermore, Loftus's humor, which could have been a redeeming feature, often comes across as tangential and distracting. The book seems littered with offhand comments, particularly about bodily fluids, which contribute little to its overall coherence or purpose. It is difficult to discern Loftus's goals in writing this book. Her interactions with hot dog vendors and business owners are superficial, and her personal engagement with the project seems more burdensome than enthusiastic. The narrative lacks a clear direction, and her struggle to connect with the subject matter is evident throughout the book.
Despite these shortcomings, the book does offer some intriguing trivia and facts about hot dogs, which I found enjoyable. However, these moments are sparse and do not compensate for the overall lack of depth and engagement with the topic
However, the book's execution did not live up to its promise. The content related to hot dogs was surprisingly sparse, and the commentary often felt half-hearted and unfocused. The balance between informative content and personal memoir was not effectively maintained, leaving both aspects feeling underdeveloped and unfulfilling. Loftus maintains a vague and detached tone throughout the book, which undermines the potential depth and insight of her narrative. This vagueness extends from her descriptions of hot dogs — often limited to superficial qualities like their "snap" — to the minimal and unclear discussion of her personal life, including the breakdown of a relationship during her road trip. This aspect of her journey, which she suggests should be obvious or inevitable, receives scant attention, leaving the reader disconnected from her personal story.
Furthermore, Loftus's humor, which could have been a redeeming feature, often comes across as tangential and distracting. The book seems littered with offhand comments, particularly about bodily fluids, which contribute little to its overall coherence or purpose. It is difficult to discern Loftus's goals in writing this book. Her interactions with hot dog vendors and business owners are superficial, and her personal engagement with the project seems more burdensome than enthusiastic. The narrative lacks a clear direction, and her struggle to connect with the subject matter is evident throughout the book.
Despite these shortcomings, the book does offer some intriguing trivia and facts about hot dogs, which I found enjoyable. However, these moments are sparse and do not compensate for the overall lack of depth and engagement with the topic
February 5, 2024
"Raw Dog" felt like a real bait and switch of a book. Now I will admit, that I didn't do my due diligence going into this book. I knew nothing about the author, I only knew it was a book concerning the naked truth about Hot Dogs. Frankly, for me, that was enough. I love Hot Dogs and I liked the idea of her traveling the country, trying all the best Hot Dogs from around America.
Pros:
- The history of the Hot Dog. I loved the beginning where she explained the Hot Dogs origin and the different regions and countries that led to the modern dog.
- The Hot Dogs she ate. I love reading about how the Hot Dogs were different around the country and how each region believed theirs to be the best. I honestly wish this was the whole book. Alas...it was not.
Cons:
- Her politics. This is ironic because I'm willing to bet I agree with her on many of the points she made in this book. However, she undercut her own premise when she went on at length about:
a. Covid issues
b. Union issues
c. Liberal vs. Conservative
These issues felt shoehorned in and left me wondering if I had wandered into another book for many paragraphs at a time.
- Her boyfriend. She took this roadtrip with her boyfriend. She simultaneously told the reader too much and not enough. She kept bringing up that they were having issues but wouldn't tell us about it and then at the end was like, yeah, we broke up. This is like when people post on social media: "I'm having a really bad day. Nobody ask me about it!" It's annoying then and it's annoying now.
- Her profanity. To explain this in Hot Dog terms: Curse words should be a condiment; not the entire Hot Dog. The shock value wears off and she never stops for long enough for it to ever come back.
- Her description of the making of Hot Dogs. She was purposefully trying to make the process sound as gross as she possibly could. And I get it. It is a gross process. But she was trying to be Upton Sinclair and failing.
- Her reviews of each Hot Dog. She clearly knows nothing about food and could basically only say whether or not a particular dog had "snap" or not. She never described what "snap" meant and never used any other words to describe them. This book should have been written by someone with a bigger thesaurus.
All in all, I recommend reading just the first chapter or two for the history and putting this one back on the shelf.
Pros:
- The history of the Hot Dog. I loved the beginning where she explained the Hot Dogs origin and the different regions and countries that led to the modern dog.
- The Hot Dogs she ate. I love reading about how the Hot Dogs were different around the country and how each region believed theirs to be the best. I honestly wish this was the whole book. Alas...it was not.
Cons:
- Her politics. This is ironic because I'm willing to bet I agree with her on many of the points she made in this book. However, she undercut her own premise when she went on at length about:
a. Covid issues
b. Union issues
c. Liberal vs. Conservative
These issues felt shoehorned in and left me wondering if I had wandered into another book for many paragraphs at a time.
- Her boyfriend. She took this roadtrip with her boyfriend. She simultaneously told the reader too much and not enough. She kept bringing up that they were having issues but wouldn't tell us about it and then at the end was like, yeah, we broke up. This is like when people post on social media: "I'm having a really bad day. Nobody ask me about it!" It's annoying then and it's annoying now.
- Her profanity. To explain this in Hot Dog terms: Curse words should be a condiment; not the entire Hot Dog. The shock value wears off and she never stops for long enough for it to ever come back.
- Her description of the making of Hot Dogs. She was purposefully trying to make the process sound as gross as she possibly could. And I get it. It is a gross process. But she was trying to be Upton Sinclair and failing.
- Her reviews of each Hot Dog. She clearly knows nothing about food and could basically only say whether or not a particular dog had "snap" or not. She never described what "snap" meant and never used any other words to describe them. This book should have been written by someone with a bigger thesaurus.
All in all, I recommend reading just the first chapter or two for the history and putting this one back on the shelf.
July 29, 2023
I 10000% picked this up because of the title.(I mean come on, look at it) I stayed for the good time.
This is about hot dogs. Well really it’s about traveling the country in 2021 and eating all the hot dogs along the way. It’s also about hot dog culture, the meat industry, life during COVID that everyone is pretending is over, capitalism, and the weirdest gendered pickles ever.
I listened to the audiobook and the author narrates, which I highly recommend. I was looking something different and I enjoyed the different I got.
Also I will never eat a hot dog again. 🌭
This is about hot dogs. Well really it’s about traveling the country in 2021 and eating all the hot dogs along the way. It’s also about hot dog culture, the meat industry, life during COVID that everyone is pretending is over, capitalism, and the weirdest gendered pickles ever.
I listened to the audiobook and the author narrates, which I highly recommend. I was looking something different and I enjoyed the different I got.
Also I will never eat a hot dog again. 🌭
March 12, 2024
Groan inducing Twitter brained swill. Abysmally unfunny, repetitive, and a covert COVID memoir which at this point is such well trodden ground it’s an instant no thanks from me. Call me a prude but this makes such liberal and frequent reference to cum, diarrhea, and processed meat distended assholes that you’d swear it was written by an AI impersonating a 13 year old.
June 11, 2023
So, I have this aversion to non-fiction/memoir blends. Mainly because I keep coming across books on interesting topics that surprise me with personal memoirs about NPR or Radiolab personalities that I do not care about and detract from the interesting topic I was sold on. This book was made exactly for me because I don't really care about hot dogs, but I would listen to Jaime Loftus read a phonebook.
This book chronicles a Hot Dog Summer road trip that our author takes with a boyfriend that she candidly tells us doesn't last the whole book. She travels around the country sampling the local hot dog staples and telling us her thoughts about different meat tube compositions and topping combinations and her frequent frustration at structurally unsound buns. There's chapters on the history of hotdogs (interesting!), the way they are made (horrifying!), and an account of the current state of hotdog eating contests (surprisingly horny!).
But throughout the books is a contemplation of Americana and poverty, of food safety and worker dignity, of local character and national struggle. It's a pandemic story and a family story and mostly it left me wanting a hotdog and wondering how anyone can truly not like mustard.
I really love Jaime's podcasts and find her way of talking about small, focused things in a personable and thoughtful way to be really engaging. I would have read her book about anything and I'm glad that the hotdog-ness of this one ended up being so vibrant and interesting.
This book chronicles a Hot Dog Summer road trip that our author takes with a boyfriend that she candidly tells us doesn't last the whole book. She travels around the country sampling the local hot dog staples and telling us her thoughts about different meat tube compositions and topping combinations and her frequent frustration at structurally unsound buns. There's chapters on the history of hotdogs (interesting!), the way they are made (horrifying!), and an account of the current state of hotdog eating contests (surprisingly horny!).
But throughout the books is a contemplation of Americana and poverty, of food safety and worker dignity, of local character and national struggle. It's a pandemic story and a family story and mostly it left me wanting a hotdog and wondering how anyone can truly not like mustard.
I really love Jaime's podcasts and find her way of talking about small, focused things in a personable and thoughtful way to be really engaging. I would have read her book about anything and I'm glad that the hotdog-ness of this one ended up being so vibrant and interesting.
October 6, 2023
I love Jamie Loftus –– her brand of humor is one that, for me, has only been found in two types of person: traumatized queer Jew, and traumatized queer recovering catholic, generally of the irish variety. (Loftus, I found out while reading this book, is the latter). There's a certain type of self-aware guilt, a willingness to stare into the wide-mouthed void of knowing self-destruction, and a spiteful determination to survive against one's own best judgement at work here, and Loftus's ironic and yet earnest quest to discover the best and worst hotdog (and, by extension, the best and worst that this hell country, the relationships we form, and the ways we engage with food) has it in spades.
Many people have criticized this book for its grossness (didn't you sign up to read how the sausage was made?) or its focus on Jamie's own experience of familial trauma and illness, relational struggles, and psychiatric disability/disorderly eating (have you seen a successful standup special lately?) but to me, these inclusions emblematized that. Loftus's "hotdog summer" was less a summer questing for as many hotdogs as possible, than one questing to learn something about personhood and peoplehood in america in direct defiance of the simple histories we're taught to swallow. We readers just happen to be blessed by Loftus's smart, self-aware, sometimes-devastatingly funnysad voice along the way.
Many people have criticized this book for its grossness (didn't you sign up to read how the sausage was made?) or its focus on Jamie's own experience of familial trauma and illness, relational struggles, and psychiatric disability/disorderly eating (have you seen a successful standup special lately?) but to me, these inclusions emblematized that. Loftus's "hotdog summer" was less a summer questing for as many hotdogs as possible, than one questing to learn something about personhood and peoplehood in america in direct defiance of the simple histories we're taught to swallow. We readers just happen to be blessed by Loftus's smart, self-aware, sometimes-devastatingly funnysad voice along the way.
June 14, 2023
I love Jamie Loftus and her podcasts. She's funny and she's thoughtful and this book about being horny and eating hot dogs is also funny and thoughtful. It also has an excellent chapter on the meat packing industry during COVID - horniness and brains! And somehow manages to not make me feel like a total piece of shit for being able to eat and enjoy hotdogs? Or maybe that's the best indicator for me actually being a piece of shit! Who knows!
June 19, 2023
this was, and i mean it genuinely, the best book I've read this year. i burst out laughing multiple times, the end made me cry, it made me want to be a better writer.
and it made me want to eat a hot dog, a food i have never really liked.
and it made me want to eat a hot dog, a food i have never really liked.
September 5, 2023
I have not stopped craving a hot dog since I started reading this. My toxic trait is listening to a breakup song and always thinking that I could be the one to make the singer happy and there is a surprisingly similar vibe to this book.
July 23, 2023
man i wish this was written by someone that likes hotdogs
July 3, 2025
I first knew of Jamie Loftus from the Cool Zone Media family of podcasts. So I knew a bit of what to expect- smart, funny, R-rated and that over used term “irreverent”.
And it’s about Hot Dogs. The most American of foods in that most American of ways- brought to the country by immigrants. The last time I was in Chicago, my friend made sure I hit some of the Hot Dog places that have been associated with that big city. So yes, I am glad I made it to Superdawg (which of course gets mentioned here) and Hot G Dog (a descendant of the now closed legendary Hot Doug’s) and I appreciate that I got to go to these places.
The book is a mix of styles with the ultimate story being going across the country to visit the nation’s most famous Hot Dogs joints. Of course, there’s a travelogue going on like a bawdy Bill Bryson. But it also incorporates as much Hot Dog info you can get- the July 4 Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest, the Oscar Mayer Weinermobile (which I have seen a couple of times in the Midwest, and spoiler, there’s more than one), the history of the food and of course, how they are made
The book was written in the immediate aftermath of COVID which is probably unfortunate for the author and will date the book to that time. The author is quite known for left wing politics so you shouldn’t be surprised her reaction here. That said, she spends some time about some of the most egregious labor abuses in the meat industry. In Iowa, at one factory, the supervisors made bets on who would come down with COVID. It gets mentioned here though (though maybe not as bold as I expected. How terrible!)
People will either love or hate this book as it’s like an even more loud, in your face and more to-the-left Sarah Vowell (I mean just look at the title). I enjoyed it quite a bit. I think that the Covid era stuff probably took away some of the fun and it might be a better book written today. Still, like a good podcaster, it’s worth the ride.
And it’s about Hot Dogs. The most American of foods in that most American of ways- brought to the country by immigrants. The last time I was in Chicago, my friend made sure I hit some of the Hot Dog places that have been associated with that big city. So yes, I am glad I made it to Superdawg (which of course gets mentioned here) and Hot G Dog (a descendant of the now closed legendary Hot Doug’s) and I appreciate that I got to go to these places.
The book is a mix of styles with the ultimate story being going across the country to visit the nation’s most famous Hot Dogs joints. Of course, there’s a travelogue going on like a bawdy Bill Bryson. But it also incorporates as much Hot Dog info you can get- the July 4 Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest, the Oscar Mayer Weinermobile (which I have seen a couple of times in the Midwest, and spoiler, there’s more than one), the history of the food and of course, how they are made
The book was written in the immediate aftermath of COVID which is probably unfortunate for the author and will date the book to that time. The author is quite known for left wing politics so you shouldn’t be surprised her reaction here. That said, she spends some time about some of the most egregious labor abuses in the meat industry. In Iowa, at one factory, the supervisors made bets on who would come down with COVID. It gets mentioned here though (though maybe not as bold as I expected. How terrible!)
People will either love or hate this book as it’s like an even more loud, in your face and more to-the-left Sarah Vowell (I mean just look at the title). I enjoyed it quite a bit. I think that the Covid era stuff probably took away some of the fun and it might be a better book written today. Still, like a good podcaster, it’s worth the ride.
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November 7, 2023
Now I want a hot dog.
Even the most disgustingly described hot dog.
Doesn't matter if that chili is diarrhea runny and the dog itself is bright pink with no snap (whatever snap is).
I wants it.
Even the most disgustingly described hot dog.
Doesn't matter if that chili is diarrhea runny and the dog itself is bright pink with no snap (whatever snap is).
I wants it.
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