In something I never expected to have to clarify, this is a hot dog recipe but it is not a recipe for hot dogs. I know that I have a history of making foods from scratch that most sane people do not feel the need to — cream cheese, fig newtons, bagels, vanilla extract, and [coming soon] almond extract too — but I do still leave “grinding meat with spices, salt, and curing agents into a smooth, fine emulsion” before being “stuffed into casings and smoked” to the experts, usually at Hebrew National.

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Every September, I step up onto my soapbox to report for my self-appointed duty — one part desperate, one part cantankerous — to remind us that summer isn’t over yet. I beg us to put away the decorative gourds and pumpkin spice for just a tiny bit longer. It’s a slippery slope from “hooray, scarves!” and “look at that perfect rainbow of a tree!” to a very long winter where I forget what warmth feels like on my skin and I am beseeching us not to wish it away. Or, I struggle with change? Hm, it’s hard to tell!

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This has been my go-to summer steak for the last several years and I have some audacity to have gatekept it for so long. Mostly, we’ve been too busy eating it for me to grab the camera and shoot it and then sit down and write the recipe, which is hilarious as that’s, like, my whole job. But my brain softens in the summer, especially when my kids are away at sleepaway camp, as they are now, and we quickly lose whatever tethers we had to things like to-do lists, responsibilities, and adulting. And while I do not expect a skirt steak with a cherry tomato and sweet corn salad to shake the cooking internet off its axis, there are a bunch of tips tucked into this recipe that make it a reliable favorite, and I hope become part of your repertoire too.

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Even though my kids are not yet on summer break and even though I, as an adult, do not have a thing called a summer break, I’ve apparently helped myself to one. I’m sneaking off to the beach on weekdays (oops), reading novels, gorging myself on cherries and crisp-from-the-market cucumbers, playing midday tennis like a lady who lunches, and getting vexed when I receive work-related emails and texts. [“Alex, why are they texting me on a Sunday?” “Deb, it’s Tuesday.”]

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