“I think hot dog stands are great unifiers”: This guy is obsessed with Toronto’s street meat

For over a decade, Anton Strasburg, a self-proclaimed advocate for Toronto hot dogs, has used his personal Facebook page (under the pseudonym Jamison Antawn) to champion the city’s street meat culture—one he insists outshines both Chicago’s and New York’s.

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On a weekly basis, Strasburg (an animator who recently co-founded a YouTube channel for comedy shorts) makes it his mission to visit a local hot dog cart, which he considers “part of every Torontonian’s DNA,” and document it. “I get about two to three likes per post, consistently—and I’m good with that,” he says. “For me, it’s about passion. I’m not trying to leverage anything.”

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Here, the devoted chronicler of Toronto’s tube steaks gives us the rundown on why he thinks we’re the hot dog capital of the world, his thoughts on toppings and his controversial take on the chicken wiener.

When did you decide to turn your personal Facebook page into a shrine to hot dogs? I joined Facebook in 2005 and used it the same way everybody else did—to keep in touch with people and make an occasional status-update joke here and there. In 2016, I went through a break-up, and I was really reeling. One night, my friends were trying to cheer me up. We’d smoked some pot, and they took me to a hot dog stand, not my usual one. It was on Roncesvalles—I live in Chinatown—but it was incredible. I ate three hot dogs, and I remember it pulling me out of that weird state I was in. I realized I could feel happiness again. It occurred to me right then and there: I love Toronto hot dogs. Those were the very words that I wrote as my Facebook status that night, because I wanted people to share in my genuine belief that they are the best. Since then, I’ve only posted about Toronto hot dogs.

You changed your name on Facebook to Jamison Antawn shortly afterward. Why? I like basketball, and there was a player named Antawn Jamison, so I flipped it around and used it as an alias. It kind of sounded like my own name, but more importantly, I didn’t want to be searchable. I was worried that, if a potential employer came across my weird feed and saw that I was posting about hot dogs all the time, they’d immediately throw out my resumé.

When did your love of hot dogs begin? I grew up in the restaurant world. My mother, Anique Rosenbaum, opened the Queen Mother with her brother Andre in 1978 and the Rivoli in 1982. My dad helped run the businesses, so I was there all the time from a young age. On the walk along Queen from Spadina to Simcoe, there were at least four hot dog stands. I’d often sneak out of the restaurant to grab one, hoping no one would notice. One time, my dad caught me, just piling on every condiment I could find. I remember him saying, “I wish he’d eat our food—but at least he’s making his hot dog gourmet.”

What makes Toronto dogs so special? Sometimes I surprise myself with how animated I get talking about this. People don’t realize how uniquely Toronto it is to have hot dog stands everywhere—especially the kind we have. I was once on a kibbutz in Israel, and I met a guy from Brazil. When I told him I was from Toronto, he immediately said, “Oh, the hot dog stand city!” Not the CN Tower, not the Blue Jays—the hot dog stands.

I also love the way our hot dogs are chargrilled and served on a toasted bun. Sure, New York has plenty of stands, but those are boiled, wet dogs with minimal pre-set condiments. I can’t entertain that. Here, we’ve got an entire spread—and you build it yourself. You think New York stands have vats of sliced olives you can pile on? Think again.

So it’s about the condiments, not the actual meat? Yes and no. For me, it’s about the experience. In Toronto, most stands use Soloway’s hot dogs, which I love—though I won’t turn my nose up at an Italian sausage, a veggie dog or even a chicken dog, as long as it’s chargrilled and I get to build it how I want. But, above all, I think the stands are great unifiers. I’ve stood there stuffing my face next to finance bros, construction workers and kids—all of us just enjoying the same thing in our own way, coming from completely different places. No one’s judging my messy hot dog. That, to me, feels very Toronto.

Is it safe to assume, then, that you don’t cast judgment on others’ hot dog choices? I don’t have a lot of patience for sweet pickles. I think they ruin everything.

Do you have a favourite hot dog stand? My all-time favourite was Andy’s Hot Dogs. I went to Deer Park public school at Yonge and St. Clair, and that’s where Andy’s was. He separated himself from the pack with the level of care he put into his dogs. He had a sign that read “Welcome to Andy’s Hot Dogs,” and he knew all his customers by name. Andy would slice his hot dogs down the middle as they cooked, and if you ordered a cheese dog, he’d stuff it with cheese and cover it until it melted. He knew I liked spice, so he’d finish mine with a line of sriracha across the top. I don’t know where his cart is now—I’ve posted about him a bunch of times, asking if anyone has seen him around, but nothing concrete yet. I’ll keep looking.

There also used to be three hot dog stands side by side at Queen and Spadina, all run by Polish women. They’d compete with one another and shout at you the second you stepped into range, each trying to win you over. But I always had the sense that they were in on it together. Whatever it was, I loved their energy.

How long do you think you’ll advocate for hot dogs? I don’t really have a timeline. But I’ve definitely seen a downturn in hot dog culture since Covid. Some of the people running the carts seem to have lost their spirit and pride of ownership. The other day at Nathan Phillips Square, I saw pigeons eating out of a cart’s condiment tray. It was pretty disheartening.

But I’ll keep posting as long as there’s work to be done. People in this city love hot dogs. Last year, on Loonie Hot Dog Night at a Jays game, they sold 96,000 dogs. The world needs to understand how deep Toronto’s hot dog culture runs—and it’s my job to let them know.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.