King Kone in Merrimack, NH. Microwaved grocery store corn dog… although their ice cream does pretty much rock.
And this brings me to my next thoughts. Ballpark food. I got really good at eating it. The best ballpark hot dog ever? Probably the first one I ate at the end of a sixteen-hour Friday (you pick one) working in California. We’d do these 50-cent Fridays, where hot dogs and other items were 50 cents. Believe it or not, people would come in droves for these days. But our concession guy didn’t like to staff quite like he needed to, so the front office personnel would pitch in when the lines got long.
You’d be sweating like a pig, pouring beer, rolling hot dogs, running ice all over the place, working a register, whatever, until the lines went down. People never quite realized how hard it was to sell a baseball ticket, and how easy it was to lose a customer. So we’d scramble, watch the concessions kids, make up to the fans when we needed to, and attempt to visit as many groups and corporate sponsors during the night.
Those were the nights you’d hope the games ran long, so we could sell more stuff. Beer sales ended at the end of the seventh inning, so the more time until then, the better the per-cap (dollars per person in park) was.
Long story short, we’d finish up and tax the hot dogs. If we were lucky there was a tri-tip sandwich and a beer waiting. Once all was done, reports were completed, the last fan was gone, lights were out, we’d eat something. That was the best ballpark food, ever.