Burning Question: Is it OK to put ketchup on a hot dog?

“Some say ‘eww,’ some say ‘yes!’”

That’s what Joleen Green hears on the front line of the great hot dog war. Her restaurant, Lucy’s on Lighthouse in Pacific Grove, lists almost 20 specialty dogs. As you glance down the list there’s a notable absence in toppings—until you reach the bottom.

Dubbed the “Breaker,” it’s a hot dog with mustard and the most dreaded, controversial condiment in the wiener world.

Ketchup.

As Clint Eastwood’s Dirty Harry character said while gazing at a gory murder scene that had interrupted his partner’s lunch: “That’s disgusting. Nobody—I mean nobody—puts ketchup on a hot dog.”

Indeed, the National Hot Dog and Sausage Council capped the age at which a squirt of Heinz is allowed at 17. The august organization’s president, Janet Riley, scolded anyone 18 and over with such a preference, saying “You have to grow up sometime.” President Barack Obama was more strict, setting the limit at 6 years old.

Green’s experience in the two years Lucy’s has been open seems to confirm a condiment graduation.

“With little kids it’s always ketchup,” she says.

Hot dogs come in many guises. At Lucy’s on Lighthouse, you can order one with bacon, guacamole and jalapeños, chili and a puddle of gooey nacho cheese, pulled pork, kimchi, mac and cheese or something more traditional, such as sauerkraut.

The classic New York-style dog comes with mustard. The ballpark version—well, as the country band Alabama sang “We like our dogs with mustard and relish.”

And in Chicago, the recipe is sacrosanct: An all-beef dog with onion, suspiciously neon green relish, tomato, pickles, sport peppers, celery seed and mustard. At least one popular wiener haunt posts an image of a ketchup bottle with the words “Don’t Even Ask” emblazoned over the top.

It’s likely the infamous St. Valentine’s Day Massacre was a gangland response to Bugs Moran dabbing his dog with the red sauce. Or maybe not.

Anyway, that’s a lot of vitriol lined up against ketchup. But why?

Green understands the importance of the question. “When people think of America, they think of hot dogs,” she points out. As for answers, however…“We get all kinds of answers at Lucy’s.”

Ketchup’s sweetness is the most common suggestion. Many people—including the scholarly types at the hot dog council—reason that sugars used to balance the acidity of tomatoes simply overpower the timid savor of a hot dog. Yet according to surveys conducted by the organization, 75 percent of Americans favor grilled dogs. And the combination of sweet, tart and smoky has always been a palate pleaser.

History may be the culprit here. While sausages have been around since ancient times in one form or another, Germans became the most enthusiastic when it comes to the dish. The city of Frankfurt insists the hot dog—or frankfurter—was first served there in 1484, although Vienna in neighboring Austria gave its name to the wiener.

Mustard, along with sauerkraut and onions remain their preferred condiments where sausage is concerned. Yet the act of slathering mustard on tubed meat predates the frankfurter or wiener.

In an English translation of the 7th century tome "The Life and Miracles of Symeon the Fool" by best selling author Leontius of Neapolis, a passage finds the main character acting up.

“For sometimes when Sunday came, he took a string of sausages and wore them as a stole. In his left hand he held a pot of mustard, and he dipped and ate them from morning on.”

Such was entertainment before YouTube…actually, people would watch that on YouTube.

Ketchup is America’s favorite condiment these days, 62 percent over mustard’s 27 percent, according to one survey. But as Stephanie Butler, writing for the History channel, explains, a tomato-based version of the sauce first appeared in 1812.

Until Philadelphia scientist James Mease pummeled tomatoes into a paste, ketchup—which can be traced to ancient China and gained popularity along old trade routes—was most often prepared from fish entrails or meat byproducts, shellfish, anchovies, mushrooms or other such ingredients. (The ancient Romans enjoyed a similar sauce and spread it on pretty much everything.)

Heinz didn’t reach grocery shelves until 1876.

So ketchup as we know it is a relative newcomer, which may explain some of the hot dog hesitancy, although not the wrath. Even when it comes to corn dogs, a hard line is drawn.

“People are pretty purist,” Green observes.

That could settle the Burning Question and give us time to slip out for a hot dog. The evidence is there. History, the hot dog council and others of note have decided firmly against ketchup. However, opinions may be shifting.

When the National Hot Dog and Sausage Council reviewed its survey results in 2014, 71 percent of Americans sided with mustard against 52 percent who stood with ketchup. By 2021 the gap had narrowed dramatically—68 percent for mustard, 61 percent ketchup.

That leaves us with only one real definitive answer to the question that sets so many people—including possibly Al Capone—into a rage.

“You can put anything on a hot dog and it will be good,” Green says. “It’s easy to eat.”