D-Dog House – Miami

Like so many singles nights in steamy Miami, my night started at a happy hour and ended in D-Doghouse. Unlike most people, I actually chose to end up there. I imagine most people commit a ridiculous blunder of hour-long happiness. That’s circumlocution for “I did not get drunk and do something stupid”.

They call Miami the “gateway to the Americas”, and I couldn’t agree more. So in the spirit of Miami, I ended my night with a Columbian. A Columbian Dog. I know what you were thinking. It was not that kind of happy hour. The Columbian Dog is a cheesy sauce-n-slaw-drenched hot mess which takes at least 3 bites to unearth the huge slice of bacon wrapped around a hotdog. A tiny, delicate, cracked-into-a-Sapporo-by-Japanese-businessmen-in-designer-suits quail egg tops if off, a ludicrous little blip of Humpty Dumpty on a wall of coleslaw.

The Pari is way better than sub-par. It’s the same thing as the Columbian Dog except it’s vegetarian and the best cold coleslaw –sloppy Joe I’ve ever had.

I wouldn’t begin a night at D-Doghouse. It’s definitely the kind of food that tastes better at the end of a night, and the flavor is undoubtedly positively correlated with the lateness of the night. Wait as long (and happily) as you can. That shouldn’t be hard in Miami.