After a brief lockout, baseball season is upon us once again. With that comes the opportunity to put on your ball cap, head to a stadium near you, sweat effusively as the summer sun beams directly onto your face and partake in some of America’s oldest eating traditions.
The relationship between baseball and food is distinctly unique and truly stands the test of time. Though the diet of the average American has changed dramatically since the days of Babe Ruth, the food offerings at a ballpark have remained relatively the same. What makes baseball food so special is how contextual it is. In no other venue would a hot dog sound remotely appetizing, but when perched high above left field on an 80-degree July night, a mildly charred hot dog with ketchup, mustard and relish may as well be beef wellington.
Sure, you could go to Citizens Bank Park and get food from Shake Shack, thereby forgoing all of the classic foods. Yes, I know Shake Shack hits differently. But do you know what else hits differently? That $15.88 charge you get for a burger and fries that are gone within half an inning. That’s why I’ve created the following guide with the mission statement of “using ballpark classics to create the ultimate eating experience over the course of the entire game, all while not wasting an unnecessary amount of your spending money.”
Peanuts and cracker jack are the Chase Utley and Jimmy Rollins of ballpark eats. They’re listed next to each other in the song for a reason. The saltiness of the dense peanut and sweetness of the airy cracker jack bring out the best in each other and make a dynamic combination. At Busch Stadium in St. Louis, this combination sells for $10.50. I’d advise waiting until at least the top of the second inning to leave your seat to hunt this duo down.
Some form of peanut shell or cracker jack residue is bound to get lodged between your teeth, which will incite your company to tell you to get it out faster than a Jacob deGrom four-seamer. Instead of buying absurdly overpriced bottled water, your best bet is to seek out soft-serve ice cream, preferably sold in a little plastic batting helmet and topped with rainbow sprinkles. In the presumably warm climate, the melted ice cream will serve as a mouthwash solution for you to rinse the shards of peanuts away. Plus, you can use that helmet to impress everyone at the game by catching a foul ball with it. The Somerset Patriots, the Double-A affiliate of the New York Yankees, sells its helmet-contained soft serve for $8.50.
Now to the hot dog. Maybe the most polarizing food of our era. Is it a sandwich? Is it not? Does each dog you digest really eliminate time off of your life? So far, studies have solely shown that a hot dog is a certified ballpark banger. Even I, a food extraordinaire, cannot understand why this is true. That a hot dog is delicious at a baseball game could be a societal construct. For that, we’d have to consult someone far smarter than myself. Bottom line: dogs are good. Try to get yours around the sixth-inning so that by the time the seventh inning stretch rolls around, standing up will provide relief for any ensuing gastric pains that result from the emulsified meat trimmings. At Kauffman Stadium in Kansas City, Missouri, a hot dog costs $4.
So far, your grand total should be in the vicinity of $23. But you’re not done yet. On the way out, grab a pack of sunflower seeds. At Globe Life Field, home of the Texas Rangers, they sell for a mere $5.25. You’re already going to look cool blasting John Fogerty’s “Centerfield” with your windows down as you wait an hour-and-a-half in the mass exodus of traffic to leave the stadium. When the driver beside you watches you spit your seeds into a plastic cup, you’ll feel even cooler.
While no one may know exactly what makes baseball food so good, no one can deny it’s essential for a good trip out to a ball game. Next time you make it out to the stands, see if you can avoid the sweet and savory smells from all around. I’m willing to bet you can’t.