Why Hot Dogs in Maine Are Bright Red

It seems reasonable in a coastal state like Maine to expect a fish when you order a red snapper. Unfortunately for many unsuspecting visitors “from away,” a very different product goes by the name red snapper in my home state: a beloved hot dog made with a natural casing for a toothy snap and dyed unnaturally bright red for disputed reasons.

“I have to state on the menu that it is not a fish and then some of our guests will be amazed when it arrives and look at me like it’s some sort of joke,” says Bryn Jerome, communications coordinator of The Maine Oyster Company. Seafood shacks and restaurants like this one are common places to find red snappers — they make for a meaty alternative to seafood but generally use the same split-top buns as another Maine icon, the lobster roll. The Maine Oyster Company combines the two at its raw bar in Portland’s West Bayside neighborhood, serving The $50 Dog, a luxe caviar- and lobster-topped red snapper that customers order once or twice a week, by Jerome’s estimation. Another spin, the Sea Dog, features aioli made with dulse — a seaweed that’s also red.

The Maine Oyster Company’s red glizzy comes from W.A. Bean & Sons, one of the country’s best butcher shops. Founded in 1860, the Bangor company started making hot dogs in 1918, and sells about 600,000 or more pounds of them per year — 70% of which is red snappers, according to David Bean, president of the family business. Obviously the red color catches the eye and has become inextricably linked to the style, but Bean says he’s not sure when or why his ancestors started dying them red in the first place.

“My uncle, Fred Bean, said that everyone had a German sausage maker after World War I, and they wanted a way to distinguish their product from others, so each company would have a different shade of red to identify each brand. I’m not sure about how accurate that is, because Fred was told this by his father.” Other sources suggest Maine’s hot dogs may owe their garish red hue to a European practice of dying older sausages to be sold at a discount. A definitive origin story doesn’t appear to exist.

Regardless, red hot dogs proliferated throughout New England over the years, but the number of producers has shrunk. Two other well-known examples, Jordan’s Meats and C.H. Rice, lost their Maine facilities after they were bought by Tyson Foods. You can still find Jordan’s red snappers on store shelves, but many locals look at them askance, and Rice’s eventually disappeared. In a plot twist, meanwhile, the latter is locally made and available once again: A descendent of the family has contracted with W.A. Bean & Sons to revive Rice’s red snappers alongside its own brand. The difference in the pork-and-beef dogs is the spice, Bean says. “Rice’s are a bit milder in flavor than ours.”

That mildness won out in taste tests at Room for Improvement, a cocktail bar gaining national acclaim for its clever approach to nostalgia on Portland’s notoriously drunken Wharf Street. The menu lists cocktails familiar enough for people who would order those drinks anyway but distinct enough to attract geeks who appreciate a Martini with multiple types of vermouth plus a splash of apricot liqueur.

“Riffs on classics are always fun and everything’s derivative at this point anyway,” Brown says, so Room for Improvement leans into the riff for its food, too. Kept warm on a 7-Eleven-style roller in a tiny kitchen the staff calls “the hot dog closet,” the Rice’s red snappers come on buns made by Biddeford, Maine-based Little Spruce Baking Co. with toppings like chili crisp from another local company, Little Brother Chinese Food, and Cheez Whiz. Verdict: The snapper menu is another high-low hit for customers from 20-something-year-old partiers to second-shifters looking for a simple beer and a bite around midnight after work. “People always want to have something they’ve had,” says Brown, and hot dogs are “always nostalgic,” not to mention easy to prep and affordable.

Nearby on Exchange Street, The Highroller Lobster Co. serves foot-long red frankfurters from another boutique source — Kennebunk’s Shields Meats and Produce — on a golden-brown bun or deep-fried in cornbread batter. At Biddeford and Portland locations, Czech-style lager brewery Sacred Profane Brewing puts spicy mustard and warm sauerkraut on red snappers from Maine Family Farms, a Portland-based meat processing facility.

The Portland Sea Dogs, a minor league affiliate of the Boston Red Sox, serve hot dogs from Kayem Meats, maker of Fenway Park’s famous Fenway Frank in Chelsea, Massachusetts. Each year, the Sea Dogs team introduces a new “alternate identity” like the Maine Whoopie Pies and the Maine Bean Suppahs to showcase unique local products, energize fans, and develop new merchandise, says Chris Cameron, vice president, communications and fan experience. In 2021, the Maine Red Snappers were born, and the brand “has been a home run for the team,” with the hot dog-themed merch among the team’s bestselling. The Maine Red Snappers games are also the only time Hadlock Field offers Kayem’s red hot dogs, which sell out.

Red hot dogs may confound newcomers, but locals love them, celebrating them each August at the Maine Red Hot Dog Festival in Dexter. It’s sponsored by W.A. Bean & Sons, which also makes a Maine snapper without red dye — a win for a Mainer like me who loves the snap of the natural casing but is less sold on the artificial color. Bean says his team is investigating the prospect of an all-natural red snapper with natural food coloring. It’s part of the company’s constant drive “to meet the changing tastes of the next generation.” Room for Improvement’s Brown perks up immediately when I mention this tidbit. “Can they make one colored red with Campari? We would love to serve that at the bar.”