Sometime between the blur that is the end of high school and the early days of college, you could find me pretty regularly at The Wieners Circle.
I can’t tell you how many orders of cheddar fries I ate back then, methodically dipped into ketchup dusted with salt and pepper. Occasionally I’d order a char dog, but never a char cheddar dog, because the cheese spread crossed the line into gratuitous excess.
The most notorious hot dog stand in Chicago opened in 1983, but it wasn’t until a few years later that it changed. By day, it remained a classic hot dog stand, albeit with the unusual char and cheddar components. By night, it became a beacon to drunken customers hungering above all to exchange insults with employees behind the counter.
The stand closed Jan. 2 this year for a much-needed overhaul. It reopened Oct. 30 with an expansive new outdoor space and its first bar in Lincoln Park.
The sign up front, high overhead, has posted provocative yet humorous statements. It recently read, “‘I OWN YOU AARON RODGERS’ — SCIENCE.” The fictional quote referenced the Green Bay Packers quarterback who screamed “I still own you!” to Bears fans, shortly before becoming embroiled in controversy over the COVID-19 vaccine.
With everything else going on, The Wieners Circle may never be famous for its char dog ($6), which is a shame. The employee who takes your order will carefully grill a Vienna Beef natural-casing hot dog, monitoring the flames behind the counter while inflaming customers in front.
When it’s blackened and split, they’ll implacably dress your dog to order. “Everything” means the canonical Chicago-style toppings: yellow mustard, white onions, red tomatoes, celery salt, pickle spear, neon green relish and sport peppers, all held in a soft, poppy-seed bun.
I’m relieved to report the char dog still holds as one of the most underrated carbonized cross-cultural creations in the city. Undeniably delicious with a definitive smoky snap, it evokes the open-fire cooking celebrated at restaurants like Roister and Leña Brava, made under much different conditions.
The front of the establishment has been impressively preserved, but cleaned up just enough. It feels like a Field Museum diorama, with period paneling, fluorescent lighting and garbage cans, historically always full.
The driveways on either side and old back parking lot (with encrusted dumpsters one can never unsee) have been built over. On the north side, there’s what they call the podcast room or Relish Room. The indoor private dining space has walls painted the singular blue-green hue of Chicago relish. On the south side, an outdoor patio leads to the new back bar’s separate entrance and four pristine restrooms. The backyard even has a basketball hoop.
The most popular drink so far is a pink frozen cocktail called the Basic B—- ($10). A slushy machine transforms rosé wine, vodka, strawberries, lemon juice and simple syrup into a nuanced, balanced, classic frosé.
By day, on a couple of visits, the restaurant and bar, as well as the side and back patios, were nearly empty. That’s despite overhead heaters that could warm a whole “L” platform through the winter. One family feasted on hot dogs with their kids in tiny picnic chairs, while a young couple in love wordlessly fed each other fresh-cut fries.
Has the late night scene been cleaned up, too?
Not after midnight on a visit the night before Thanksgiving, also known as Blackout Wednesday or Drinksgiving, dubbed for the widespread binge drinking before the holiday. The dining area — which employees call the lobby and where a sign almost comically warns “occupancy by more than 14 persons is dangerous and unlawful” — was packed with about 40 rowdy customers, all maskless except for one other person, as were the employees behind the counter.
Random profanities pepper-sprayed the air, like kids learning to curse in a new language. The room triggered my fight-or-flight instinct. But customers and employees alike seemed to engage with mutual consent.
I asked Evelyn Morris, the general manager, to help me understand the situation. She’s currently the longest-time employee, with 34 years under her belt.
“I’m that aunt,” Morris said. “Everybody has that aunt that really tells you to, ‘Sit down, come here,’ and is really bossy. It’s a family-oriented type of confusion, more than abusive and negative, and it’s welcomed.”
It’s more than welcomed; it’s expected, like an extreme Ed Debevic’s experience.
“They literally come from out of town to hear us speak that way,” Morris said. “If we don’t, they say, ‘What’s wrong with you!’ It’s always out of fun.”
But it’s not always fun.
“We don’t do the race thing here,” said Morris, a Black woman, like most of the counterwomen. “Not to say that it never happens, but I can tell you it’s probably like once a year. Most people here, especially our college students — I’ve raised these kids on these hot dogs.”
Back in the ’90s though, it was a whole different thing.
“It was worse then than it is now if you ask me,” she added.
Even now, however, they’ve had concerns, especially after a certain mini hot dog special.
“We called those the Trump foot-long,” said Sarah Levine. She does marketing and social media for The Wieners Circle. “We were doing something playful and fun, but we had some pretty aggressive Trump supporters come out, which made some of our staff really nervous. We would call the Chicago Police Department and they’d come in and help break things up. It’s been tense at times.”
So why go there?
Yes, the char dog and frosé are great. The kid- and dog-friendly patios are an oasis. And the double char cheeseburger ($9) was a big, fat, juicy discovery for me. The double red hot, steamed, ($7.50) was nearly as good as Dave’s Red Hots, but almost double the price, and without the impeccable fries that Gina Fountain includes. I liked the char Polish ($7.25) ordered with charred onions, but some bites were nearly incinerated, making me long for the consistency of Jim’s Original.
On the truly down side, a char burger ($7), without any cheese, was dry as all get out. The char turkey burger ($7.50), had an off-putting sweet spice aftertaste. A char veggie burger ($7.50) managed to be both burnt and mushy.
Then there were my beloved cheese fries ($5.75). On my first visit by day, no cheddar. Second visit by night, no cheddar. On a third visit, to chat with Morris, she had cheddar and explained the shortage.
“We’ve been using Vern’s cheese for 38 years. Merkts is close, but does not have that Vern’s taste,” she said. “I can’t believe it, but Vern’s is out. They don’t know when their distributors are getting here, so the supply chain is affecting us as well.”
They had cheddar spread, but Morris wouldn’t reveal the brand. Not that it mattered, because the fresh-cut fries ($3), soft and mealy, sadly don’t rank close to the many best french fries around the city.
On the flip side, bar manager Zach Osipczuk has created an ambitious drinks menu.
“What’s become kind of our house cocktail, especially amongst the industry people, is our Hemingway’s Revenge,” said bartender and chef Joshua Bushnick. “It’s Ten To One rum, Malort, maraschino, grapefruit juice, lime juice, simple syrup and Fee Brothers grapefruit bitters.” It sounds fantastic, but I’ve yet to try the draft cocktail ($10 for a 6-ounce pour over ice, $5 for a 3-ounce shot), because it was sold out.
The Wiener Slammer ($10), a bright blue drink served in a Capri Sun-inspired pouch, mixes bourbon, cognac, amaretto, sloe gin and orange juice. All I tasted was cloying sweetness in the surprisingly low-proof cocktail, gauging by my lack of a blotchy red face. (The alcohol-induced Asian flush syndrome never lies.)
On my fourth and final visit (normally we visit restaurants twice to review), the lobby dining area was nearly empty again, understandable on a cold and rainy Sunday night.
“Pull down your mask!” shouted the woman behind the counter when I stepped up. “Pull down your mask or speak up!”
I paused, about to shout out my order. “Never mind!” I shouted back, and left.
The next day, I learned someone I’d met at The Wieners Circle had tested positive for COVID-19, and couldn’t smell or taste. It was a reminder that we must remain vigilant.
So sit down and come here while Auntie Louisa talks.
I’ve seen the potential at the new Wieners Circle. I’ve seen how you can cook and rejoiced when you got it right. But I’ve seen you distracted by foolishness, and the results not only fall short, they’re heartbreakingly disappointing.
I wish I could easily embrace the complicated culture at The Wieners Circle, but I can’t. Nor can I dismiss it. While the owners (Ari Levy, Timothy Won and Matthew Brewer) admirably built and rebuilt the physical space, and the employees cook the food and mix the drinks, and generations of late-night customers bear the brunt for what it’s become, we as a community are complicit in claiming the place as emblematic of Chicago.
The Wieners Circle
2622 N. Clark St.
773-477-7444
Open: Sunday through Thursday, 11 a.m. to 3 a.m.; Friday and Saturday to 4 a.m. Bar: Sunday 11 a.m. to 4 a.m.; Monday through Thursday 4 p.m. to 1 a.m.; Friday 2 p.m. to 1:30 a.m.; Saturday 11 a.m. to 1:30 a.m. (last call 30 minutes before closing)
Prices: $1 (chili) to $9 (double cheeseburger); Bar, $4 (Duff Beer) to $40 (wine by the bottle)
Noise: Day, conversation-friendly; Night (after 10 p.m.), conversation-unfriendly
Accessibility: Wheelchair accessible with restrooms on single level
Tribune rating: Half star, unsatisfactory to good
Ratings key: Four stars, outstanding; three stars, excellent; two stars, very good; one star, good; no stars, unsatisfactory. Meals are paid for by the Tribune.
