Tales from the Road: Inside Detroit's Coney Island rivalry

Tales from the Road will appear throughout the season on BlueJackets.com as Jackets Insider Jeff Svoboda writes about the places and people that are part of the team's road trips.
When you think about it, the chili dog has quite an ability to unite us.
It's one of those foods that is a staple, yet every place does it a little differently. One of my favorite spots to get one is in Washington, D.C., where Ben's Chili Bowl's half smoke is a legendary, Caribbean-inspired take.

Of course, we're in Ohio, and the Coney is synonymous with Cincinnati, where your choice of chili is about as integral to your personality in the Queen City as the high school you attended. (I know too many southwest Ohioans to declare a favorite, but I will point out that you can buy Skyline Chili at Nationwide Arena.)
I also found when I lived in Toledo for a few years that the Glass City makes a pretty mean Coney as well. There are a handful of staples in the northwest Ohio area, but my favorite was simply named Coney Island Hot Dog, a diner downtown across the street from The Blade newspaper offices that served up a pretty good dog in a no-fuss diner setting (bring cash if you can).
Then there's Detroit. For the uninitiated, the Coney Island is a unique Motor City staple, and downtown Detroit has its own food battle that's as intense as the competition for cheesesteak supremacy in Philadelphia between Pat and Geno's.
But while those legendary Philly spots are across the street from one another, American Coney Island and Lafayette Coney Island are even closer -- in fact, they're right next door to another. American Coney Island sits on a peninsula where Michigan Avenue meets Griswold Street and Lafayette Boulevard, while Lafayette Coney Island is right next door, with entrances on both Michigan and Lafayette.
The two share much more than a wall, however. Greek immigrant Gust Keros is credited with bringing the dog to Detroit, first selling hot dogs out of a cart before opening a brick-and-mortar establishment downtown in 1917, as a sign affixed to the outside of American Coney Island proclaims. He at one point brought his brother, William, over from Greece to the U.S., and he opened up Lafayette next door.
The Keros family still owns American, and as you can imagine, anytime blood is involved, a food rivalry reaches even higher heights. It might even be stronger among everyday Detroiters, who all seem to have their preferred spot. Earlier this week, I texted my friend Mike Walton, who grew up in the northern suburbs of Detroit, to ask his favorite spot.
"Lafayette and it ain't even close," he said.
Good to know.
Luckily enough, both restaurants are a short trip across the street from the Blue Jackets downtown hotel in Detroit. I'd been to Lafayette a while back and ate at American two years ago before a Jackets game, but this year's season-opening trip to take on the Wings seemed to be as good a time as any to try both and do a good old-fashioned taste test.
I enlisted Blue Jackets video producer Jonathan DeMuth to go with me -- Bally Sports Ohio's Dave Maetzold was going to join, but he decided to work out like a responsible person -- and after morning skate Tuesday, we were off.
First, we tried Lafayette simply because it was closer. And of the two restaurants, let me tell you -- this is the much more no-frills option. It feels like an old-school diner, with a counter up front and a few communal tables scattered about. Creature comforts are not their thing, let's just put it that way.
Jonathan and I grabbed a table and turned in our orders -- a Coney Island, no mustard, for me and a Coney, no onions, for Jonathan -- which was yelled back to the kitchen by the waiter. The vibes were enhanced by the fact we sat underneath a row of signed photos of legendary Red Wings who theoretically have stopped in the joint, and a photo near the door showed a picture of the Stanley Cup with the restaurant's staff. Clearly, this place had some hockey bona fides.
But we were here for the dogs, and they came after a (very) short wait - in fact, we were in and out of each restaurant in about 20 minutes apiece. The Lafayette Coney definitely passed the taste test, with a snappy bite, a flavorful dog, and not too much chili. (As a male with a beard, some foods can be rather tough to eat without making a mess. A Coney can definitely be on the list.)
I could see what the buzz about Lafayette was about, but we still had a second Coney to try. American Coney Island is right next door, but it feels a world away, as the vibe was completely different. The restaurant is decked out in Americana -- fitting, I suppose, with the name -- vibes with bright red stripes on the walls and black and white checkered tile on the floor. It's also much bigger, with plenty of room to move around compared to the quaint Lafayette counter.
But again, this was all about the dogs, so Jonathan and I repeated our same order. Again, in minutes, we each had our Coneys and dug in. The American dog seemed a little bigger and heftier, with a softer bun. The dog didn't have as much snap, and while there seemed to be a little more chili, there wasn't a ton of taste to it in our opinion.
After about two bites, Jonathan had his answer -- he was much more a Lafayette man. I wouldn't say it was a huge difference -- they're essentially the same food, after all, and I'm not exactly a man with the most discerning of palates -- but I'd probably have to go the way of Lafayette as well. Mike, it seems, was right.
After that, Jonathan and I split up, and I took an hourlong walk through Detroit -- one of my favorite underrated cities -- to enjoy the beautiful fall weather but mostly to burn some calories. If you're ever downtown, take a trip over to Coney corner and give the two icons of downtown Detroit a try.