Los Angeles Times
http://www.calendarlive.com/search/96356,0,714117.venue
Over the years, Ali Esmail has brought joy to the hearts of transplanted Chicagoans in the San Fernando Valley and, more recently, the Santa Clarita Valley. He owns QT Chicago Hot Dogs, which sells what may be the most authentic Chicago-style hot dogs west of Michigan Avenue.
Any Windy City native will tell you that a real Chicago dog is no ordinary frank. With its beefy center spurting juice at every bite and its towering superstructure of garnishes, a Chicago dog is one of the great masterpieces of American cuisine. The rules for constructing one are exacting. To the delight of his patrons, Esmail obeys those rules with unwavering dedication.
He uses a Vienna all-beef hot dog (unlike some Chicago-style places that substitute a locally made frankfurter), cushioning it in the proper steamed poppy-seed bun. The sausages are slathered with bright yellow mustard, then with Day-Glo-bright, Kermit-green pickle relish and a sprinkle of raw onion. A couple of tomato slices, a dagger-thin wedge of barrel-cured half-sour dill pickle and, on request, a spritz of celery salt top the whole thing off. The tiny, blazing-hot peppers furnished as a garnish contribute dribbles of spicy vinegar that add essential flavor. The whole production comes wrapped in tissue and set in a plastic basket.
So how did Bombay-born Ali Esmail get to be a Chicago hot dog impresario? It all started in the '70s, when he acquired an addiction to hot dogs as a college student in the Southland. Years later, he stopped at the original Northridge QT Chicago Dogs and was blown away by the discovery of a breed of dog he'd never known.
By coincidence, he was looking for a business to buy, because his employer was closing its Valley office. On a whim, he asked whether the business was for sale--a question that quickly settled his future. He now has three QT emporiums.
Esmail credits loyal customers with giving his spartan storefronts an authentic Chicago look. They provided him with a panoramic photo of Lakeshore Drive and real Chicago street signs. Bears and Blackhawks pennants and other Chicago sports teams photos from newspapers paper the walls. Beside them are blow-up photos of famous Chicago hot dog dispensaries such as Flooky's, Weiner's Circle and Superdawg, all shot by Esmail on research trips to Chicago.
Over the years, Esmail has become entrenched in the underground cult of Chicago dogs, which has brought hordes of former Chicago residents out of the woodwork. He keeps a guest book beside each cash register for Chicagoans to sign or browse through. These tomes have united former classmates and friends; in a few cases, they have even led to marriage. And now Esmail is planning a Chicago hot dog festival where he'll barbecue hot dogs in the parking lot of one of his stores.
Older Chicagoans might regard char-grilling as heretical, since Chicago-style hot dogs were originally steamed, sold from pushcarts alongside the famous Maxwell Street Market. But with the passage of time, it's become OK to grill or char-broil them. So QT now cooks any dog all three ways.
QT deals with other customer whims, too, since Chicagoans differ among themselves about certain hot dog details. Many prefer the sausage skinless; others insist that biting into a skin that snaps like underwear elastic is an essential part of the Chicago dog experience. So QT sells dogs with or without natural casing, the former costing $1 extra.
Some Chicagoans say celery salt is non-canonical addition that only a few North Siders indulge in; others think tomato slices are sacrilege. All agree, though, that ketchup must never defile a Chicago dog. Sauerkraut, chili, cheese or any combination of the three are available as toppings, though many say they don't belong on a Chicago dog. I'd say they aren't particularly outstanding here.
QT does offer the hot dog's heftier cousin, Polish sausage, with its serious dose of garlic. They're cooked to order, as are fire dogs, the largest dogs offered here (so named because they're impregnated with hot pepper). It was probably inevitable that Esmail would have to add jumbo veggie dogs and turkey dogs to his list, and he has.
Few can live on hot dogs alone, so, like its counterparts in Chicago, who have adopted Italian beef sandwiches from Taylor Street and gyros from Greektown, QT offers them too, going to the trouble of getting all the ingredients from Chicago. I must say that the dryish meat and soggy buns of the Italian sandwiches don't work at all for me, but the gyros, filled with juicy meat in good sturdy Greek-style pitas, are swell.
QT's daily special--dog, good thin fries and a drink for $3.99--is a deal for any dog lover, even one who's never set foot in Chicago.
— Linda Burum, Special To The Times
