The coolest hot dogs of all. Their popularity is sizzling at this iconic Macon eatery
Editor’s note: This article is part of an occasional series — “Middle Georgia Delicacies” — bite-size homages to fine food offerings, from the unsung to the iconic, at eateries across our region.
The simple slaw dog somehow has its detractors: Those who draw the line at bun and wiener meeting salad. Also those who deem slaw dogs too ewww, too soggy, a topping faux pas. Those naysayers are perhaps the same frankfurter fancy-pantses who declare ketchup uncouth.
But they are wrong.
Doggone wrong.
For when done right, slathered in the green-tinged glory of mayonnaise and chopped cabbage, the slaw dog is a Southern fast-food deity.
Shoot, it even sounds country: Slaw dawg.
There may be no more perfect topping. The slaw is at once delicious and gravity-defying. It adheres to the hot dog’s cylindrical dimensions with a condiment clinginess as inseparable as ketchup and mustard. It makes for a no-spill picnic in your palm.
The wiener wizards at Nu-Way Weiners in Macon, in business since 1916, began serving slaw dogs in the early 1980s. Their version of the cabbage-laden franks has been hailed far and wide, including in the New York Times, which 20 years ago declared Nu-Way’s slaw dogs “the acknowledged king” of said creations.
A few years back, Atlanta Magazine mentioned Nu-Way in a piece about slaw dogs in general and how “once you acquire a taste for them, they’re easy to covet.”
Slaw dogs are believed to have been around for a century or so. But the first reference to them in print locally only dates to 1982 when The Telegraph ran an ad for a place called the Billy Boy Sandwich Shop, which, during a grand opening special, sold slaw dogs for 59 cents each.
A doctor who frequented Nu-Way once told a Telegraph reporter that for lunch he liked the eatery’s chili dogs and its slaw dogs. But he was careful about his order.
“If I had to see many patients, I’d get a slaw dog,” the doctor said. “People could tell if you had a chili dog about four hours after you ate it.”
Nu-Way president and owner Jim Cacavias recently recalled how his family, including his father, John, experimented with menu offerings in the early 1980s. It was around the time slaw dogs crept onto the scene in these parts. However, the restaurant’s brain trust was not sure about adding them.
“Finally they decided, ‘Yeah, let’s do something,’” Cacavias said. “So dad, being the cook that he was, kind of whipped something up with the Marzetti cole slaw dressing and putting the green in there also to kind of give it a little color. But they didn’t want carrots or any raisins, none of that.”
Two decades later when the Times declared Nu-Way’s slaw dogs king, Cacavias presumed his father would be ecstatic.
“Dad,” Cacavias said, “look at this article. It’s about our slaw dog!”
His father, ever nonchalant, glanced at the write-up and said, “How ’bout that,” and went on his way.
The beauty of the slaw dog, in part, is that it is at once warm and cool. (Cole slaw, by the way, is a pairing of the Dutch words kool, which means cabbage, and sla, which means salad.)
Nu-Way’s slaw dogs appeal especially to blue-collar patrons, tradespeople who work outdoors, who Cacavias said seem to prefer eating lighter during the hottest months.
“The majority,” he said, “and I’m talking about eight or nine out of 10, switch in the summer from a chili dog to just a slaw dog.”
Cacavias said Nu-Way has a loyal following for its flaky ice. Fans also are devoted to Nu-Way’s thicker-cut fries, its burgers, its breakfast fare and, of course, its beloved chili dogs.
“But the slaw dog, to me,” he said, “is just always growing in popularity.”
This story was originally published October 10, 2023 at 11:45 AM.