In Chicago, there was a man loved for his sausage. Doug was his name, Hot Doug was his stand. In LA, Wurstkuche is Doug’s doppelganger with an edge: Belgians on draft. Damn, how much can one love St. Bernardus 12? A lot.
So yes, someone *cough* sorry *cough* is very late to the party. Beyond waxing poetic about the sausage varietals, it’s easy to forget there’s really a grill master behind every sausage served. Damnit these natural casings pop. They have great grill mark, and the stuffing isn’t over cooked. It’s almost as juicy as properly steamed NY dog!
Personally, it’s about the beer, nay, the beerS here. And the space. At a certain corner, sits a chair worthy of a king (and naturally, a queen) while he munches on sausages. Love the airy huge space, thankful the owner is beyond attentive. Let’s have a wedding here.
PS: really sir, start the beer flights. Forget authenticity (branded stemware). We want beer.
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