You are allowed to put anything on a hotdog as long as it is not ketchup.
Right now I am going to put homemade refried beans, rice, salsa, cheese and sour cream in a flour tortilla and call it delicious.
I have a friend who likes mayo on his hot dogs. I swear, it's not me -- it sounds like something I would do, but I've never tried it. Well, except on corn dogs, but that doesn't count.
We got a hot dog cart for one of our parties at the radio station, and the guy was an atlas of hot dog knowledge. He'd ask where someone was from, and then say "oh, central Ohio, so you want sauerkraut and brown mustard, with a pickle on the side? (made up example)" He knew every regional variety.
If I'd told him I was originally from Toledo, he probably would have referenced
Tony Packos. That's what we call a hot dog back in the Old Country. Jamie Farr used to talk about it in his role as Klinger on M*A*S*H.
Thing is, I've never been to Packos, and I don't care for chili sauce -- too spicy for my tender palate. I like my dogs with just a smear of sweet hot mustard, nothing else. I guess I'd take grilled onions if they were available, but I don't make them at home because Pedro doesn't eat them and it's not worth it to make them just for me.
Tonight we're having a Southern bastardization of Polish cuisine -- what passes for kielbasa from the Harris Teeter deli, grilled like brats, and Mrs. T's frozen pirogi, fried up in a pan. I make no pretense of authenticity -- this so-called kielbasa in my fridge is PINK! -- but more of an homage to my ethnic roots, if you will.