Jim Bradshaw: Relishing the memory of a hot dog

Somewhere toward the middle of baseball season, I invariably begin to think about hot dog relish, and it’s not as disconnected as you think. The best hot dogs I have ever eaten came from the concession stand beneath the stadium at Legion Field in Lake Charles.
The town fielded some pretty decent Texas League teams when I was a kid — Felipe Alou was one of the players who passed through on the way to outstanding big league careers — but I would have gone to see even a dismal team just to get one of those 25-cent hot dogs.
They were served from a Mom-and-Pop booth, and what made them so memorable was the homemade relish spread liberally across the top of the wiener.
They used the other standard condiments — mustard, chili, ketchup if you asked for it (which I didn’t) — but it was definitely the relish that raised their dogs to the Gold Standard.
I have tried to recreate that relish for more than 40 years, and have come close, but only close.
I think I’ve figured out all of the ingredients, but my relish just doesn’t taste like theirs did.
None of my creations would make a kid ride his bike halfway across town to the stadium and spend the last of his allowance money for a hot dog.
Cucumbers are a vital ingredient to a good relish (which makes it good for you, so eat all you want) and that is probably another reason why I begin to think about making some in the summer, just as my Dasher-variety vines are bearing and we long-suffering Cubs fans begin our summer novenas.
 My basic relish includes onion and bell pepper, ground up with the cucumber and seasoned with mustard seeds, celery salt, and turmeric, white wine vinegar, a tad of sugar and a sprinkling of salt.
I’ve also tried recipes that included ground carrots, one that used hot peppers, others with sweet pickles, cabbage or tomatoes, another substituting apple cider vinegar.
One year, on a whim, I substituted mirliton for the cucumbers. That was not my best idea ever, but I usually turn out a decent relish, and from time to time one better than decent.
But I’ve never made anything to match Legion Field Relish, as I have come to call my elusive condiment.
Either I’m not getting the proportions right, or Mom-and-Pop had a secret ingredient never again used in anybody’s recipe.
The third possibility, of course, is that memories of good things are better than the things actually were.
I’m no spring chicken and confess that my memory could be playing tricks on me. It does so regularly on dates and names, and once in a while I will find myself standing in the middle of a room trying to remember why I’d gone into it in the first place.
 But I trust my taste buds.
They have a memory of their own and even if I can’t make Legion Field Relish I can still conjure up the memory of how good it was.
It’s that memory and my perpetual sense of optimism that will make me head into the kitchen to try again.
As the old saying goes, “If at first you don’t succeed, chop up some more cucumbers.”
You can contact Jim Bradshaw at jimbradshaw4321@gmail.com or P.O. Box 1121, Washington LA 70589.