Hot Dogs

The Baltimore Ravens have a signed new a hot dog supplier — from Philly. Esskay is out, Dietz & Watson is in. Esskay, founded in Baltimore in 1858, has been serving dogs at Ravens concession stands since the stadium opened in 1998. But Philadelphia-based Dietz & Watson just landed the three-year contract. The concession change has brought as much attention to hot dogging as Ray Lewis' last pre-game introduction. By punting the perceived hometown frank, the Ravens risk inciting Baltimoreans to the point that they resemble their famously unruly counterparts in Philly.

Special to The Baltimore Sun The year is just half over, but it looks like the most competitive category in 2010 local dining is shaping up to be … the hot dog. Stuggy's , which specializes in regional versions of the American classic and opened in Fells Point back in May, looked to have a lock on the prize, but then came word about the Haute Dog Carte , which is now open for business in Mount Washington, at the corner of Falls...

T ake me out to the ballgame, buy me some hummus and coddies. That is the tune I sang Friday as I ate my way around Camden Yards, sampling the fare, taking its temperature with an instant-read thermometer. I have been doing this task at the opening of the baseball season here since 1992. On the eating front, this season looks promising. The fundamentals - hot dogs and cold beverages - were strong. The newcomers - hummus, coddies, deli sandwiches and a new kind of crab cake - had their moments.

LOS ANGELES--Something in my gut reacted badly years ago when I read the front-page story in the Los Angeles Times about the desirability of various cities for the raising of children. Los Angeles was pretty far down the list with a "C" rating, but I was hardly bothered by my own city's poor grade. I was affronted, however, when in scanning the list I found Baltimore at rock bottom, with an abysmal "F." "How could that be?" I wondered. The city of my birth, the city that bore and raised my parents, and my aunts and uncles and cousins, too numerous to count.

Inside the Doughy Dog truck, workers are preparing more than hot dogs, breakfast sandwiches and mini-doughnuts. They're preparing themselves for more stable lives, working toward increased self-sufficiency one chubby hot dog at a time. This is food with a social mission: The big red Doughy Dog truck is a business venture of the Arundel House of Hope, a 17-year-old nonprofit organization in Glen Burnie that helps homeless people. The organization's clients get paid job experience and growing self-confidence.

Inside the Doughy Dog truck, workers are preparing more than hot dogs, breakfast sandwiches and mini-doughnuts. They're preparing themselves for more stable lives, working toward increased self-sufficiency one chubby hot dog at a time. This is food with a social mission: The big red Doughy Dog truck is a business venture of the Arundel House of Hope, a 17-year-old nonprofit organization in Glen Burnie that helps homeless people. The organization's clients get paid job experience and growing self-confidence.

James Lynn Coffman, the owner of Coffman's Snack Bar, which has been a gathering place for Middle River residents and politicians for more than half a century, died from lung cancer Dec. 15 in his apartment above the Orems Road restaurant. He was 76. Mr. Coffman, the son of a body shop mechanic and a dressmaker, was born in Fairmont, W.Va., and spent his early years there. With the outbreak of World War II, Mr. Coffman moved to Middle River with his family when his father went to work at the old Glenn L. Martin Co. plant building warplanes.

Devon Ford, 13, counts on the Preakness every year to earn a little extra cash toting people's coolers in a shopping cart from their cars to the gates of Pimlico Race Course. But this year business wasn't so good. He and three friends were barely making any money. Since Pimlico banned people from bringing their own beer and liquor, very few people used coolers. Those who did brought smaller, lighter coolers filled with food instead of heavy bottles and cans. "It used to be packed with people, but there aren't that many people this year," said Carter, who lives a few blocks from Pimlico.