Being a single gay nerd means the only sausage you’re gonna get is down at the hot dog stand.

Eating a ho tdog is part of being Danish– or at least it used to. The fast food army of America and the growing health awareness has overturned the old wiener kingdom, and now eating a hot dog is somehow looked down upon – especially from the organic and ethically correct spelt-fascist moms of Copenhagen. And admittedly, it’s not something you should consume every day but a few saussies a month shouldn’t hurt if you jog home after eating it, right?

Since there is a new hot dog player in town, I decided to test both stands in one day. The classic “pølsevogn” (sausage wagon in Danish) and the new “DØP – Den Økologiske Pølsevogn (The Organic Sausage Wagon). DØP also sounds like “dyp” which means dip– like dipping the sausage in something tasty.

Let’s hang out at the classic one first. It’s completely movable and you often see the sausage dudes dragging their wagon down the streets in the early morning hours.

Morfars Pølser (grandpa’s wieners) is situated at Copenhagen central square in front of the town hall. When it’s 2˚C, and slightly slushy/rainy, it is an ideal time to inhale a red one.

Let’s check out the menu:

Prices have gone up the recent years, probably to make ends meet due to a growing lack of customers. I’m going for the classic “ristet hotdog” (roasted hot dog) at 24 DKK ($4.5).

The woman inside the wagon is wearing an old Adidas trainer, and is in need of a complete women’s magazine makeover.

I wait for some Chinese tourists to carry off their grub before placing the order.

Observe the meat– different kinds of sausages are simmering away on the grill.

A classic Danish hot dog consists of:

* Sausage (red or roasted)
* White toasted bread sliced up in the middle
* Ketchup
* Mustard
* Remoulade
* Raw chopped onions
* Roasted onions
* Pickled sliced cucumber

If you wanna go all the way, you order an ice cold chocolate milk on the side.

The tubes contain ketchup, mustard and remoulade.

The plastic bottles are for more exotic flavours, like sweet French mustard, chili mustard, regular ketchup, chili ketcup, French hot dog dressing etc.

Now drizzling the chopped and roasted onions on top. Why are these in plastic containers? Did she bring them to town on her skanky, worn out bike? Why are they not lowered into the design of the wagon?

This is too DIY for me.

Also observe the white home-written cardboard sign in the background with the (as expected) bad grammar. She’s missing an “r” in “drikkevarer” (drinks). Tsk tsk no wonder she’s spending most of her time inside this piece of metal. I bet she has a black leather couch at home with a matching sofa table with marble footstand and glass tabletop for her TV hot-dog-stand-leftover dinner.

ET VOILA! A classic Danish hot dog. Looks nice, I like that she didn’t go Uncle Scrooge on the sliced pickles.

Taste is fine– it’s almost impossible to think about these critically, as I’ve been eating these since I was two years old, like any other Dane. But I think it’s up to standards.

I’m actually having an ok time munching the meat while staring at people walking by. Until I look down and realize I’ve become an extra in Hitchcock’s The Birds.

There’s an eating frenzy going on among my feet and every time I bite into the hot dog, onions fall to the ground and the winged rats of urban living are plucking my feet for scrubs. Better get out of here

I run away from the beaked little monsters across the city where the new hot dog stand called DØP has settled down, right in the hot tourist area next to Rundetårn (a very old and tall tower with a fab lookout over the city).

The thing about DØP is simple: everything’s organic (and also healthier in some areas). The red “ø” marked on the wagon and trashcan is the Danish government approved mark for 100% organic production.

The inside is more cozy, clean and well arranged than Morfars Pølser’s wagon. The girl is nicer too.

DØP’s menu is slightly more pricey as expected when organic. A roasted hotdog is 34 DKK ($6), which I order.

There’s also spicy beef sausage and a mash of potato + celery root. Sounds delicious, but I’m already half full from the previous hot dog, so I stay with my order.

Again! Extras are in plastic bins. I don’t find this very sexy, but I hope it’s because it’s super fresh and just delivered.

Classic sausage line-up although no bacon wrap.

Even the drinks are organic: The Danish “Naturfrisk” (nature fresh) label offers “Hindbærbrus”(raspberry fizz), “Cola Cool” (cola) and “Hyldebrus” (elderberry fizz). Then a sparkling water and the mandatory Cocio chocolate milk.

Oooh lala, the hot dog is ready. And it’s YUMZERS! Although pretty cheap on the pickles, I really like the bread on this one. It’s much more sturdy and has grains in it which play well with the meat instead of being a white flour airy puff. It also fills much better in the stomach so you don’t get the munchies again after an hour.

Definitely worth the extra money. According to the girl, the bread is longtime heaved sourdough baked on fullgrain flour, linseeds and rye flour. The sausage is of course organic pork from a pig who enjoyed a good life relaxing in muddy pools on the local farms. (Pigs are just as intelligent as dogs, remember?)

Ladies and gentlepeeps, we have a winner. Although I hate to say it because it’s so disgustingly politically correct, but organic just takes the medal again and again.

Next time foreign friends are in town, I will take them here for the New Danish Hot Dog.