Wolfy’s sign is a cheap-eats landmark: a giant red hot stabbed with a fork high over Peterson Avenue. At the sign of the frankfurter, you can count on classic Chicago street food, served fast and with plenty of sass.
The primary meal is an all-beef dog cushioned in a steamed-soft Rosen's poppy-seed bun. It is available topped with chili or cheese, but such choices are very un-Chicago. In this town, the connoisseur’s choice is to smother a hot dog under a full panoply of first-rate condiments, i.e. bright yellow mustard, spruce-green piccalilli, full-length pickle spears, slices of tomato, chopped raw onions, and an incendiary sport pepper or two. On the side, of course, you want a serving of French fries, which are good and crunchy (although not among Chicago’s very best). Eating such a meal is impossibly messy. The condiments fall off, the dog tends to creep out of the bun, and pretty soon you are licking relish off your fingertips. Of course, Wolfy's is equipped for such hazards: there are napkins galore, and the entire interior is made of easy-wipe plastic and Formica.
In addition to regular red hots, Wolfy’s is a good place to sample Polish sausage: like a hot dog, but more unctuous and with a darkened, crackling-crisp skin. The preferred condiment for a Polish is a heap of oily grilled onions.