A carrot is not a hot dog, but these come pretty darn close
Last August, my husband’s sister decided that for one week she would eat like a vegan, 100 percent, cold turkey, and see how she felt. Six months later, she’s still eating vegan. She says she feels great and unless she’s making something special for her family, she rarely cooks anything but vegan food.
Her enthusiasm for this new chapter in her life is thoroughly contagious. She’s always posting links to delicious-looking recipes for things like creamy, gooey vegan cheese and articles with titles like “27 Insanely Delicious Recipes You Won’t Believe Are Vegan.”
I’m not a vegan. I’m not even a vegetarian. I’m an omnivore — I love it all, grains, meat, vegetables, the whole grocery bag. So as much as I enjoy being a social media witness to her joyful exploration of this new cuisine, I rarely click on any of her links and explore the recipes further.
But then she posted this: “Carrot hot dogs. Who knew they would be so delicious. I am a believer.” She included a photo of something that looked just like a hot dog topped with onions, ketchup and mustard, nestled in a sesame seed bun.
I usually steer clear of foods that are meant to mim-
ic other foods. I don't doubt that there exists a creamy, gooey, delicious sauce made from ground up cashews, but once you call it “cheese,” in my book, you set it up for failure.
I could never mistake a carrot for a hot dog. But I was intrigued by the additional details in the comments that followed her post. She had made these carrot hot dogs herself. It involved some kind of marinade. She described the texture of the final product as “legit.” And she included a link to her source. And so I clicked. I arrived at the YouTube channel of Ela Gale, a 22-yearold, vegan New Zealander and an avid do-it-yourselfer. She's posted videos on making your own everything, from makeup and deodorant to gummy bears and sports drinks.
In her carrot hot dogs video, she seems a bit astonished herself that this bizarre idea actually produced something “so tasty, honestly, and the texture is quite nice as well. It's really surprising, especially being a much healthier option, and cheaper ...”
If she has leftovers, she said, she slices them the long way and uses the slices like cold cuts, for a “smokey, meaty addition to sandwiches.”
She had me at “so tasty.” Her whole you-can-changeyour-life-for-the-better-thing won me over completely. Maybe, I began to dream, if I make carrot hot dogs, I could feel young and beautiful like her. Maybe I could be earnest and soft-spoken, too. I don't have her lilting, lovely accent, but I could have her unwavering optimism, couldn't I?
I followed her recipe exactly and they weren't bad. When I put one in a bun and piled it high with sauerkraut, onion, ketchup and mustard, it tasted like a hot dog. Or rather, it tasted as if there should be a hot dog buried under all those condiments.
But when I tried one with just raw onion and sweet onion relish, my preferred hot dog scenario, the carrot dog tasted very sharp with vinegar and garlic. It didn't taste like a carrot. It did have a nice texture. But it didn't taste like a hot dog either.
I didn't give up. I downsized the vinegar and garlic in the marinade and added red wine, white miso, ground celery seed and peanut butter. And the second time around, with minimal condiments, they were surprisingly good, not exactly a hot dog, but pretty darn close.
Yet, so far, they haven't transformed my life. I'm still old and intermittently cranky, pessimistic and sarcastic. I do feel pretty righteous while I'm eating one, though. But if they're going to have a fighting chance, they need a new name to counteract those wiener expectations. What do you think about crankfurter?
Enjoy!