Wednesday, March 2, 2016

The Legendary Michigan Coney Dog Rivalry

In the past few months, I've come to the conclusion that Michigan may be the one state of the fifty that could successfully secede and nothing would change.

These guys have everything. They grow everything, raise everything, manufacture everything, and are so obstinently loyal to their own state and its products that they pretty much buy everything locally anyway. 

This includes their own Coney Dog.  If you ask a Michigander, they'll say their own Greek roots had the Coney first, then took it to Coney Island in New York.  And they'll tell you that it started on the corner of Lafayette Blvd and Michigan Ave in Detroit.  And then they'll tell you which one is "the true original Coney."  Which really just means which one they think tastes better.



Historically, no one really knows for sure where the Coney originated.  Most research pinpoint the hot dog was born in Detroit, concocted by Greeks who immigrated there via New York City's Ellis Island and Coney Island.  According the lovely pre-gaming ladies we consulted outside, it was the same Greek family that opened Lafayette.

Lafayette Coney Island still inhabits its original location on Lafayette and Michigan.

They weren't completely wrong, but given our information, we went into Lafayette first.

The menu at Lafayette is simple, and pretty dern cheap.


A hole-in-the-wall diner barely touches on what Lafayette Coney Island is (yet another establishment with no website. Get with the program, Michigan!).  By all accounts I can gather, the narrow, tightly packed diner hasn't changed since it's establishment in 1918.  The walls are painted a faded mint-green, the tables and chairs are places about two inches apart from its neighbor, and the place stinks of chili and cleaner.  The cooks and wait staff scream at each other over the patrons, yelling out orders in a Greek-English blend of mostly vowels.  We squeezed our way in, past the kitchen, around the corner, and seated ourselves right under a collection of autographed photos from an alumni team of Red Wings.  The waiter wandered up and we placed our order - four Coney's, one chili cheese fry, one regular fry.  He yelled the order back to the kitchen.  "Fo'ConeyEvrthingChleeFryRegFry!" About two and a half minutes later (literally), our orders slid down the table to us.

The Red Wings are on Team Lafayette.


It looked disgusting.

Lafayette Coney


Traditionally, a Coney is an all-beef hot dog on a bun, a line of yellow mustard, a spoonful of chili, and a heavy layer of fresh diced onion.  And that's what lay before me.  Here we go again, that Bucket List making me brave.  I picked up a fork (because we were going to the Fox later, and I'm a mess when it comes to food), and ate.

This was also my in-law's first trip to Lafayette and American.



I was non-plussed. It wasn't terrible.  But I don't think I'll be going back.  The chili was runny, a gross-creamy-brown color and on the sweet side (which seems to be par for the course for Midwestern chili), the hot dog was mediocre, there were far too many onions for my taste, and the bun was pretty chewy.  But this stuff is legend.  For some reason.  We ate, paid, and went next door.

American moved into a larger location on the opposite side
of Lafayette a few years ago, now on the corner of the building.


Yep. You heard me. Next door.  To American Coney Island, Lafayette's rival. (Who's website was "not found" at the time that I wrote this blog. REALLY, guys?!) 

As it turns out, there are a couple versions of how these two restaurants came to be.  The more popular is, of course, more dramatic, and involves a blow out argument between two Greek immigrant brothers over a chili recipe.  To get back at the elder, the younger opened American next door with a differing chili recipe, and said "let the customer's decide who's better!"  But if you ask the current owner of American, this version is a tall tale.  The truth, she says, as a direct descendant of the founder of American Coney, is that American was established in 1917 by her great grandfather, and that he invited his brother to join him in America.  When his brother arrived, he opened Lafayette next door with an alternative approach to both the chili as well as the hot dog.  No sibling rivalry to mention (yeah, right). Lafayette has changed hands since opening, and the two joints are no longer owned by relations, but continue to butt heads in the battle for the "Best Coney."



American has obviously been recently renovated, but in the style of a mid-century diner - like something out of Grease.  Checkered floors, red tables and chairs, swirly fluorescent signs with chrome-lined counters.  The place was pretty empty, which was surprising since its neighbor was crawling with people.  But it was a Friday, so perhaps everyone was in search of a Fish Fry.




Our waiter was pleasant, and spoke clear English (so he never had to repeat himself - but one could argue that's not nearly as much fun).  We placed the same order, this time with chili and cheese on both orders of fries.  He quietly walked back to the open kitchen, and brought our food back within five minutes.  My sensitive tummy and I breathed a sigh of relief.  

American Coney

The menu at American had a few more options.

The chili was pretty good!


The difference was obvious.  The chili was thicker, had a deeper, more chestnut tone to it, and wasn't nearly as sweet.  Still too many onions, but the char on the hot dog made it juicy and tender, and the bun seemed like it perhaps came out of a fresh bag recently.  Much better.  The four of us agreed that American won the taste test, be it "The Original Coney" or not.  We were not alone in this conclusion, joining the ranks of the experts from The Food Network on team American, but Travel Channel seems to side with Lafayette for the age-old environment (which has it's entertaining "no ketchup on my coney" charms).

At Lafayette, the waiter told my MIL "No Ketchup!"
She did it anyway. At both locations.

Team American right here, folks!


So if you're looking to test out the rivalry yourself, Lafayette has the environment - loud, Greek, and old, but American has the tastier dog - grilled, fresh, and meaty.  


What Michigan food should I try next?!

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