Welcome to Crif Dogs. They sell tater tots, and PBR, and have a Ms. Pacman machine. It's a dingy little place that does a million kinds of decadent hot dogs, many of which are wrapped in bacon and deep fried. It's also one of those places that is kind of fun to take out of town guests (if you can get a reservation) and that "in group" folks love to whisper to their friends about. Not because of the hot dogs, particularly, but because of the speakeasy bar through the phone booth.
If you didn't luck into one of the reservations (1 hour long, made same-day starting at 1pm, good luck getting through) you can still try to get in and hope there are open seats at the bar, which is what I did. Through the secret door is a space as small as the hot dog shack, but clean and chic and candle-lit.
Funnily enough (or, if you know me, I guess pretty expectedly), I would totally rather go back for the dogs and tots in the picture than for the expensive and kind of pretentious bar-through-the-wall. Which is a bit of a microcosm for the way I approached New York in general, if you think about it.
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