From the land of lobsters comes a humdinger of a hot dog.

Keith Wass has heard the confession before . Many times, he admits.

"It’s not like I’m the biggest fan of hot dogs," I say to him over the phone on Friday, "but I just can’t stop thinking about yours. I am salivating just telling you this."

He chuckles softly. Sure, he can laugh and smile. He’s in Lincolnville, Maine, a short hop from any of his Wasses Hot Dog outlets in the Mid-Coast Region of Maine. He can have one of his hot dogs within a minute of snapping his fingers. But he comforts me with his words.

"I hear that all the time," Wass says. "People tell me, 'I don't like hot dogs, but I really like yours.' , That’s pretty typical."

But his hot dogs aren't. And that's why I've called Wasses' main branch in Rockland, Maine, and begged Keith Wass' home phone number from a kindly cook.

I need to know why, one week after biting into a fried onion-crowned bacon-cheese Wasses' hot dog purchased at the drive through stand in Belfast, Maine, I am shrugging off invitations to Alain Ducasse and fixating on a very basic form of sausage. Keith Wass divulges his secrets one at a time. "Well," he begins, "they’re fried in peanut oil." That’s key.

He's been doing it that way since 1972,

when he took over a hot dog stand in Rockland from a fellow who was ready to retire.

"I was in college, at the University of Maine at Orono, and I needed a summer

job," Wass says. "I saw the stand for sale and bought it."

One summer was all it took for Wass to ditch college in favor the 'dog biz. He'd developed a very specific method of preparing his hot dogs – a method the tactful

might can quirky' and the critical might call

anal, but dog aficionados call brilliant.

"I wanted to make the hot dogs in the quickest and most efficient way," he says. "For instance, there’s a specific way of grabbing the napkin (which cradles each

Wasses' hot dog). There's a specific way of steaming the rolls, and a right way of putting the hot dog on the roll. There are also skills to learn about how much accompaniment to put on."

"They're pork and beef hot dogs, made in a plant here in Maine, in Augusta. It's called Kirschner's." But what about the crust?

"That crunch is what they're famous for," Wass admits. "It's an all-natural casing, and it's got some seasonings in it." Peppery stuff, right? Wass gets a little evasive here. But he does come through with one more secret.

"The onions are fried in the same peanut oil as the hot dogs, which helps to intensify the taste. And we use a New England-style frankfurter roll."

New England-style rolls, to those who are used to the split-on-the-sides rolls common in Mid-Atlantic States, are top-loading rolls. Wass laughs when I call his buns top-loaders.

"I've never heard that one," he says.

Anyway, the top-loaders are kept in a steamer, and they're served nice and moist. There's none of that slightly stale, breadcrumb-y effect. The bacon I had on my 'dog is Hormel – "Hormel Fast 'n' Easy, precooked, so we warm it in the microwave," Wass says - and the cheese drizzled so artfully is real deal melted cheddar. Getting the cheese right took Wass years, he reveals. Thanks to weeks of exacting training (the cooks must be expert in napkin-wielding, bun-steaming, hot dog and onion frying, and so on), customers get their hot dogs within a minute of arriving at the window of any branch of Wasses.

That includes branches in Rockland, Belfast, Thomaston and the portable, ever-traveling party-going caravan. My perfect 'dog cost $1.90.

I suspect I'm not getting much more out of Keith Wass, so I sigh and say it's going to be a long Wasses-less winter for me, until I get back to Maine next summer.

"So maybe some day there could be something in New Jersey?" I ask..

"Sure, that’d be great," he replies. Let the drooling begin.