Nostalgia Cooked
June 29, 2026
No. 4

“Hands, please”

The Fourth of July tradition my dad's fear of fire kept out of our backyard, and the borrowed, immigrant, oddly political history behind the American cookout; the strange story of how Nathan's became the name behind the hot dog without ever actually inventing it; and three things worth your time this week, including 19,000 menus from the 1800s preserved for anyone to flip through.

Coffee, then read on.

— Chef Tim

Growing up, my fourth of July was always focused on the sides, mac n cheese, coleslaw, cornbread, ice cream! My dad was convinced something bad would happen if he lit a fire, so we never really had a grill growing up. Electric or gas. Whether it was superstition or just caution, cooking over fire simply wasn't part of my childhood. Which is funny, because these days I spend most of my life standing in front of a 1,200-degree hearth. The one thing that never existed in our backyard somehow became my career.

How did everyone else end up gathered around a grill every Fourth of July? Like most food traditions, the answer is a lot stranger than I expected.

The word barbecue isn't even American. It comes from the Taíno people of the Caribbean, who cooked over wooden racks called barabicu. Spanish explorers borrowed the word, carried it north as barbacoa, and eventually it became barbecue long before there was an America to celebrate.

The Fourth of July cookout also has surprisingly political roots. In the early 1800s, politicians realized there was no better way to draw a crowd than by roasting whole animals in the town square. People would dig trenches for these occasions to cook in the ground. Feed everyone first, give the speeches afterward. It was equal parts campaign rally and neighborhood picnic.

Even the charcoal has an unexpected story. Henry Ford hated wasting anything, so he took the leftover wood scraps from building Model Ts, compressed them into charcoal briquettes, and sold them through his dealerships. More than a century later, most of us still know the name, Kingsford.

The meal that feels uniquely American is really a collection of borrowed ideas, immigrant traditions, clever inventions, and centuries of people gathering around a fire to feed one another. Maybe that's what makes it American after all.

So whether you're standing over a charcoal grill, a gas grill, a smoker, a blazing hearth, enjoy the meal.

Before service, the whole crew huddles up and somebody tells the story behind the food. Pull up a crate. You're on the line tonight.

If you ask almost anyone who invented the hot dog, they'll probably say Nathan's. It's an understandable answer because Nathan's has become as much a part of the Fourth of July as fireworks and flags. Every Independence Day, millions of Americans watch competitors race through piles of hot dogs on national television, reinforcing the idea that Nathan Handwerker was the man who started it all. The truth, however, is that Nathan wasn't the inventor. He was simply better at becoming unforgettable.

That distinction belongs to Charles Feltman, a German immigrant who arrived in New York with an idea that was perfectly suited to a growing America. In 1867, he began selling sausages tucked inside soft rolls from a pushcart on the sand at Coney Island, creating a meal that could be eaten while strolling the boardwalk without the need for plates or silverware. He called them Coney Island Red Hots, and people couldn't get enough. His humble cart grew into an enormous seaside restaurant complex that served thousands of hot dogs every day, employed hundreds of people, and became one of the country's most famous dining destinations. Supposedly, President William Howard Taft even made the trip to eat there.

One of those hundreds of employees was Nathan Handwerker, a Polish immigrant whose job was slicing buns. In 1916, he borrowed money, opened a tiny stand just down the boardwalk, and sold nearly identical hot dogs for five cents instead of Feltman's ten. The lower price made customers suspicious, with many assuming meat that inexpensive couldn't possibly be real. To calm their fears, Nathan reportedly hired men wearing white coats to eat at his stand, creating the impression that doctors trusted his hot dogs. Whether they were physicians or simply actors hardly mattered. The spectacle worked, crowds followed, and Nathan's name eventually eclipsed the man who had taught him the business.

Even the famous Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest carries a myth of its own. For decades, the company claimed the tradition began on July 4, 1916, when four immigrants supposedly held a contest to prove who was the most patriotic American. It makes for a perfect holiday story, except it never happened. The tale was invented decades later by a publicist looking for a better headline.

Nathan's may have won the boardwalk, but it didn't happen overnight. Feltman's remained one of Coney Island's biggest attractions for decades, even after Nathan Handwerker opened his nickel stand just blocks away. Only after Charles Feltman's death, new ownership, changing tastes, and Coney Island's postwar decline did the once-great restaurant finally close its doors in 1954. More than sixty years later, the Feltman's name returned when brothers Michael and Joe Quinn revived the original brand, not to replace Nathan's, but to remind America who served the first hot dog on a bun. After spending generations in the shadow of its most famous former employee, the original hot dog is once again trying to reclaim its place in history.

Top Tip

Listen, I've sniffed a lot of glasses, and this one's easy. Grab a chilled Lambrusco. It's fizzy enough to wash down a hot dog, fruity enough to handle the ketchup, and bright enough to keep up with mustard and relish. My human says it has "excellent acidity." I say it tastes best when someone gets distracted and drops half their hot dog. Either way, it's a winner. Five paws out of five. I'd give it six, but I don't have thumbs.

Buell's Booth
Slide in, grab a seat. Every week, one question and one comment straight from the counter. Feel free to shoot me questions anytime!

^"My dish tasted flat last night so I kept adding salt and it never fixed it. Was that actually an acid problem?^"

It’s important to understand the complexities of seasoning food. More acid, can make something salty so you have to be careful but yes. Any amount of acid usually helps a pasta dish tremendously. For more about how to balance all the elements of cooking check out Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat.

^“My grandmother kept that same white vinegar above the cabinet, possibly the exact bottle you're describing. I think it's still up there. I am scared to check the date.^”

I think it would be fun to do a serious, as people on tiktok already have about the oldest thing they can find in their parents cabinent.

The Nostalgia Table

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