Finely
ground, smooth and thick, more of a spice than a chili and really different from anything else I’ve eaten in West Virginia. The dogs are steamed from the Sugardale brand (nothing to write about) in a cheap white roll. But the sauce is where it is—really hot, just on the perfect cusp of too much—at least for me. Yann, known as the hot dog Nazi of the North, is only open when Yann feels like being open — an impediment to my search,
in other words.
Yann’s hot dogs are known for their incredibly hot sauce (not chili) and for being served by a quarrelsome old man. Russell Yann serves hot dogs in a tiny, eight-seat hut with no opening hours and no sign, as well as a barebones menu with hot dogs, pepperoni rolls, and white or brown milk bottles. I’m pretty sure the coleslaw purists at West Virginia Hot Dog Blog think Yann’s is Pennsylvania or Maryland (even though they enjoyed the chili), but locals who grew up with the stuff swear by it like nothing I’ve ever seen. I must say my grandparents grew up on Fairmont and I spent years (I’m 4) listening to my elderly family rave about Lupo’s hot dogs
.
I’ve also dropped off a few on Hot Diggity, and you can check out her review of Yann’s dogs in the video below. Some of the really unusual regional hot dog sauces (see some here) are more intriguing than delicious, but Yann’s is one of the best I’ve ever had. I took a hot dog tour through West Virginia (at least the northern part of the state) and one of my main goals was to finally try the infamous Yann
‘s.