F. Scott Fitzgerald once wrote that “There are no second acts in America,” but that’s gin-soaked baloney. America is all about second acts, about people who fall and pull themselves back up again.
Felony Franks, the new hot dog place that opened up on North Avenue, hires only ex-offenders, people who are trying for another chance, a second act. They serve menu items like the Misdemeanor Wiener, Parolish (a char-broiled Polish sausage) and Big House Beef
Felony Franks is owned by the Oak Park-based Andrews family. This family is committed to helping ex-offenders set themselves straight and learn to live on the outside, providing guidance on how to handle finances and live life on the outside. That support is all undeniably righteous.
Felony Franks itself is getting a second act, after closing its original Western Avenue location because, as owner Deno Andrews said, “the neighborhood could not sustain the restaurant there.”
When I stopped by Felony Franks Oak Park location for lunch, I was interested, as I always am, with how the food is put together. I watched as the counterman carefully opened the bun, gently set the sausage between the bun halves, and then laid in the condiments. He held it out to me. One could feel the pride he felt in his work.
I had a friend in high school, same age as me, full of himself, proud and even arrogant. When I went off to college, this friend of mine went on a multi-state crime spree, knocking over banks in several Midwestern states, and eventually being captured and convicted of armed robbery and a few other charges. He spent all his 30s and most of his 40s in a high-security Federal dormitory. He came out a busted guy. Pride came before his fall and after his fall, there seemed to be no way to get back his pride. He drove a taxi for a while, screwed up, got fired. He did some work in food service, screwed up, got fired. He wanted to write for me, he did, he screwed up and decided he was not cut out to be a writer. He’s now homeless, and when last I heard about him, he was living in a tent between two factories outside Portland.
Prison is a horrible experience. Getting out is not so easy, either. There are support systems in place to help integrate prisoners back into society, but there is nothing like a job to make a person feel like a productive part of society and gain back some of the pride they lost when they lost their freedom.
So I loved seeing the satisfied smile on the face of the counterman as he wrapped up my hot dog.
The hot dog itself was, well, it was okay.
There are lots of ways to judge a hot dog, and one is snap, the feel of the teeth breaking through the casing and allowing the moist, steamy contents of the sausage to burst on the tongue. There was no snap in the hot dog I had at Felony Frank’s. The counterman told me they use Vienna Beef wieners, which are pretty standard but good, but these were snap-free, texturally vacant skinless wieners.
The hot dog was way over-dressed. A dog is such a simple thing, there are few ways to make it incorrectly, and one of those is to put too much relish and mustard on top. At Felony Frank’s, the condiments are out of proportion, ganging up on the sausage and beating the crap out of it. The pickle, however, was perfect, probably one of the best spears I’ve ever enjoyed atop a Chicago-style dog.
Fries were hand-cut, which was fantastic, but the two servings I had were both cooled down and way less satisfying than I’d expected. Getting the fries right is tough; you need to have them ready for the customer’s order, but you don’t want them sitting around so long that they lose their warmth and crunch. This is a timing issue and also a training issue.
The Big House Beef, which co-owner Mary Andrews told me was one of their most popular items, was a little less seasoned than, say, Johnny’s, but it was a good rendition.
The sausage on the Italian job was very good, though it could have used a little more time on the grill to brown up and caramelize the outside.
Mary Andrews brought over a Shake Down shake for me to try. The shake comes in the several flavors, and the one Andrews made up for me was vanilla ice cream with orange soda, a kind of Creamsicle flavor that went very well with the Italian sausage.
Service could not have been friendlier. The folks behind the counter smiled and seemed happy to serve customers – and you can’t help but be happy for them.
When Felony Frank’s was in Chicago, their menu was much bigger. Coming to Oak Park, they’ve scaled down their offerings, which may be a good place to start their second act. And if my criticism above seems a little hard, it’s only because I want them to succeed, and I want to provide an honest appraisal of food that I think, without a heck of a lot of effort, could be sourced and prepared in a way that would assure success.
Would I go back to Felony Frank’s? Absolutely. I believe in second acts.
Felony Frank’s
6427 W. North Avenue
Oak Park, IL
708-948-7483
