I mentioned the hot dogs, then never wrote about them.

Here goes. Years ago, passing through Allentown, there was this sign. [Yocco's, the Hot Dog King]. Inwardly I groaned because I knew.

I knew that we were going to stop, and there would likely be some excuse for stopping such as the need to go to the bathroom. Sure enough, princess running-water, errr... my husband nearly wrecked getting into the parking lot. "I've got to pee..."

Yes, I know these things. I also knew that no matter how reasonably priced, these would not be cheap. I am told, "The secret is in the sauce..." but I am sure I don't really want to know this. My husband discovered that night that he likes the ones that soak in the "secret" all day long. They don't work for me, as one of the secrets tastes suspiciously like chili. [Please don't send nasty letters. I do like Cincinatti chili, but that would not be practical on hot dogs.]

But I did like the cheese dogs. And the pierogies (fried, yay!). And the Birch Beer, even if it is Fanta - which is lucky for me since now we go there anytime we are within 50 miles of the place, and you'd be surprised at how often Stan can make that happen. So there is the must-have hot dog.

Now for the coffee. I won't even pretend to know how to describe coffee. My friend Leon does however. I think he knows more about it than your average Brazilian. He loves coffee. So much that he bought his own roaster.

My first batch of Lonely Monk Coffee came in a jar. Up to this point I'd had no idea that coffee beans are oily -- but they are. He blended and roasted the beans and then described the contents of the batch to me -- I admit my eyes glazed over after the first two sentences. But when we brewed some, they popped right back open again. Deep, rich, doesn't need cream. That is the best I can do in the decription dept. The endorsement? Comes from my husband who hates cheap coffee. Stan won't touch Starbucks, but he loves Lonely Monk.