Have you any Grey Poupon?

American classic getting all dressed up at some higher-end area restaurants

Tyrone Walker
The Post and Courier

Their Hottie features marinated, fried peppers and homemade pimento cheese.

Tyrone Walker
The Post and Courier

The Wild T at P-Dogs is a turkey dog with cranberried onions and sweet potato mustard.

To visit P-Dog's on a Saturday in Summerville means wading through a protracted line to belly up at the countertop, where — menu, please — you can request a Big Willy or a Huff n Puff, a Blue or a Gus, or any of 28 specialty all-beef hot dogs.

You can get most anything, really, from the All-American with ketchup and mustard to the Sour Girl with sauerkraut and spicy mustard. Or for the particularly frisky: the Wild T, a turkey dog with cranberried onions and sweet potato mustard, or the Bandito, with jalapeno cheese sauce, fresh salsa and avocados.

But it's not outrageous or unusual — not anymore — those ordinary treats turned exotic, be it with blue cheese or arugula slaw, roasted red peppers, feta cheese or mango salsa at area joints like Johnny's, Jack's Cosmic Dogs, Brindle

Brothers and The Tin Roof.

It's the hot dog, all dressed up, with everywhere to go. And it's taken the leap, believe it or not, onto the menus of higher-end restaurants here and nationwide, their creations more haute dog than hot dog.

Not in the traditional form, mind you. Some franks have appropriated other guises, including salmon, lobster, foie gras and Kobe beef. The summertime delicacy long associated with the Fourth is evolving.

"We'll get a silly whim and bring in Kobe dogs," said Tristan chef Aaron Deal, whose restaurant last featured them about a month ago. "It's great flavor, something that makes you sit back and grin."

Deal made a pair of hot dogs, one with sautéed cabbage, caraway seeds and black truffle mustard, the other with candied jalapeno coleslaw and Point Reyes cheese fondue. The cost? About $10.

"It's definitely over the top," Deal admits.

Much like the restaurant High Cotton, purveyor of lobster, foie gras and salmon pseudo-franks. Chef Anthony Gray built them two years ago, using natural hog casings to shape the salmon and foie gras. Once molded, he removed the sleeves.

"Seafood hot dogs — the lobster and salmon — seem to work really well," he said.

Hot dogs already have a compatriot in their fight. Cheeseburgers bounded onto gourmet menus a number of years ago. Now they're almost standard fare at better restaurants.

Just try Rue de Jean's brasserie burger with creamy Gruyere or smoky Roquefort cheese, or Palmetto Café's $20 burger, made moist and plump with a bit of duck fat.

"The burger thing was coming on for awhile," said Robert Stehling, chef and owner at Hominy Grill. "Maybe it's just hot dogs' turn."

Stehling, who last month claimed a James Beard award for top Southeast chef, has experimented with making hot dogs from scratch. He added a bit of curry powder, using a recipe he adapted from the cookbook, "Better Than Store-Bought."

"If you take the time to make the hot dog sausage like it's supposed to be done, they just come out amazing," Stehling said.

He served them with onion relish hopped up with chili peppers; his customers loved them.

"I feel like the hot dog is something you don't mess with too much," he said.

For instance: The Trusted Palate, an agreeable wine bar on King Street. Its menu offers a regular "non-fancy" grilled hot dog — Hebrew Nationals or Nathan's — for $3 with onions, relish, ketchup and mustard, 50 cents extra for sauerkraut.

The item hasn't gone over well with some diners and food reviewers, one of whom wrote, "If I wanted to pay $3.50 for a hot dog to go with my white burgundy, I'd sneak a bottle into The Joe and grab a foot-long 'Homewrecker' from the Dog Pound."

"It's supposed to be whimsical," said chef Dillon Snider, the meal meant for late-night bar patrons.

But it merits a question: What does one pair with a hot dog?

"Why not a white burgundy?" Snider joked.

At Tristan, Deal suggests an Allagash White ale, a nice, hoppy beer, to go with his Kobe beef dogs. Gray, at High Cotton, recommends a sharp, acidic white wine to cut through the rich foie gras.

But those souped-up version aren't for everybody. Jeff Argenio makes Chicago-style dogs at Skoogie's in Mount Pleasant.

"Honestly," he said, "when I go to more expensive restaurants, I'm not looking for a hot dog."

Of course, these changes or attempts to rework hot dogs might speak to something larger.

"All is part of the upscaling of working class foods, a trend that escalates when the economy dips," said author John T. Edge, described by The Miami Herald as "the Faulkner of Southern food."

Maybe hot dogs need revitalization. Food analysts say hot dog consumption among adults has dropped to its lowest point since the mid-'80s, even though it's still a valuable market.

Last year 956 million packages of hot dogs were sold in the U.S., not counting the 30 million hot dogs consumed at Major League Baseball parks or those eaten at Nathan's July Fourth contest in Coney Island (Joey Chestnut won in 2007 with 66).

And it's a given at P-Dog's, whether the dogs are cosmetically altered or au naturel. Run by Perry Cuda, his customers want chili and maple mustard. Make that double chili, actually — and hey — add cheese, please.

"Hot dogs kind of bring home the whole apple pie, Chevrolet and America," Cuda said. "I really think it's something that won't go away."

Reach Rob Young at ryoung@postandcourier.com or 937-5518.