A la Recherche Du Chien Chaud Mexicain.

This fun article in the NY Times reminded me of the best hot dog I have ever eaten.
It was out of a cart on the way to the Universidad Iberoamericana in Mexico City and it was simply known as "Los Hot Dogs del Güero".
Unless you were a student, you really had no other business going up the hills of the remote suburbs where the Ibero was lodged. El Güero was parked half way to the campus, in what I remember as a desolate stretch of treacherous road. But those hot dogs were worth the trip. The road may have been deserted but there was always a line of hungry people once you got there.
El Güero grilled his dogs. He didn't fish them out of funky, festering boiling water.
He would grill the sausage and everything else.
He'd grill the buns. He'd grill some chopped onions and tomatoes and green chilies -- a grilled pico de gallo. He'd grill slices of American cheese. He'd let the bacon sizzle in the grill. And then he would masterfully put all that into this glorious hot dog.
Mexicans are genius cooks. Period.