Review: Sam's Club's Holidogs Belong At The Top Of The Naughty List

The period between Thanksgiving and Christmas is a confusing one, food-wise. You're still working your way through turkey day leftovers when it's time to start planning out your Yuletide spread. It's a time of year that calls for bold flavors and intricate dishes both savory and sweet. For some, it's overwhelming. To make things easier, why not split the difference between the best of both holidays? That's the premise behind the promotional Holidogs introduced by Sam's Club, which feature unconventional seasonal components on either end of an all-beef hot dog. The concept seems relatively inoffensive, perhaps even a fun way to bring the nebulous period between Thanksgiving and Christmas to life — until you actually see the hot dogs, that is.

Topped proudly with crushed candy canes, holiday meats, and tiny slices of pumpkin pie, the creations are almost too monstrous to believe — true abominations on a bun. But could these hot dogs possibly taste as horrific as they look? To answer that question, I trekked to the Holidog cart in Lower Manhattan to sample these calamitous concoctions for myself.

We'll start with the safest and most reasonable of the bunch. The first dog –- appropriately dubbed Season's Meatings — was topped with a small slice of turkey on one slide and prime rib roast on the other, the latter sprinkled with dried parsley.

The extra meat dressing didn't do very much for looks, but frank itself was snappy, offering up a nice bite — a standard, quality New York hot dog. And though unfamiliar, both the turkey and prime rib were tasty and, dare I say, reasonable additions here. I could easily imagine filling up my plate with generous portions of either meat during a holiday meal. Even folks who don't prefer heartier meats during the holidays would agree that these two in particular evoke memories of family gatherings and full bellies. In the end, the whole ordeal was a little much for a hot dog, but you could certainly do worse (as I soon did).

The second dog was far less subtle, pairing gravy-laden mashed potatoes and frosted sugar cookie crumbles atop the same all-beef hot dog. This is also about the point where the taste test began to feel more like an affront to humanity rather than a fun holiday promotion. But, for what it's worth, the mashed potatoes were quite tasty on their own, and I'm of the firm belief that no one can turn down a frosted holiday cookie once the calendar turns to December.

Together, though? On a hot dog? It's not the kind of holiday mashup we were hoping for. It tasted like something a kid drew with a crayon — and it somehow looked just as colorful, even with the various shades of brown. The frosting from the cookies wound up melting into the potatoes a bit, which was as mesmerizing as it was repulsive. There might be a universe in which mashed potatoes and sugar cookies work in harmony, but it's not the one in which they are plopped on top of a hot dog.

While the first two hot dogs might be considered suitable — albeit absurd — fulfilments of the Holidog premise, the wheels truly came off with the final one. Curiously named Frankly Both, the last hot dog featured a miniature piece of pumpkin pie (topped itself with a small dollop of whipped cream) on one end and crushed candy canes on the other. Watching this thing come together was a doozy, as Nico — the guy behind the cart — navigated between properly balancing the pie slice on the bun while making sure the minty pieces didn't fall over the sides. It's hard to determine exactly how much peppermint to put on a hot dog when the correct amount is most definitely none.

Once again, the individual components of this hot dog were fine — the pumpkin pie was sweet, the candy cane shards were pepperminty, and the frank was characteristically plump. Combined, though, it was an unholy mess. Unsure of how to eat it, I flipped the tiny pie over and mashed it into the dog, tucking a few peppermint pieces in between. The few bites I took were, predictably, unpleasant. Perhaps the only value to come out of eating this hot dog are the existential questions it forced me to confront. It turns out "should I eat this hot dog with pumpkin pie and candy cane on it?" isn't too far off from "why am I alive?" or "has God forsaken us all?"

What more is there to say about hot dog creations that shouldn't exist in the first place? Even Sam's Club admits that no one asked for these things, but all's fair in love and experiential marketing. If the idea was to promote the store's wintertime offerings and the idea of creating decadent holiday spreads with its products and ingredients, this was a success. There was a decent line, a number of people asking questions, and free swag being passed out. Perhaps folks in Dallas and Nashville — where the Holidogs will appear next — will disagree, but I found myself amused by the display and warmed by the folks working it.

That said, the hot dogs were abhorrent. It's always important to stay open and try new things, but unless you're seeking out a weird mix of heartburn and shame, don't bother with Holidogs.