Two shaggy-style Kahuna Lava Dogs -- half-pound beef dogs bathed in chili, Maui cole slaw and Monterey Jack Cheese
Finish in 30 minutes and the $35 meal is free, plus you get your picture on the soon-to-be-created Wall of Fame as well as a special Maui Dog t-shirt that gets you 15 percent off any future purchases you make while wearing it. Hot damn! If you fail, you have to pay the full cost of the meal, but you get a little punch card fully stamped and good for one free future meal.
So far, Stamatakis says, only one person has been able to complete the challenge, and he did it with about six minutes to spare. All five of the other competitors failed miserably; I'll be the seventh person to attempt it.
I place my order and shortly after, the food's brought out in waves, the meal becoming more and more daunting -- an onslaught of bread and beef. Stamatakis asks if I think I can "shralp" it. I assume he means conquer, though the word "shralp" sounds suspiciously like the sound I'd make if I threw this food up everywhere. Stamatakis says he used to have a "chum bucket" for just this sort of thing, but he gave it away to some people on a scavenger hunt. I can only imagine what horrors that bucket's seen.
The first bite of the Lava Dog is literally that: LAVA. The toasty dog and its steamy chili blanket scorch my mouth ruthlessly, but I hardly notice, at least until later.
Each lava dog is about three quarters of a pound, and there's a lot of flavor going on. Savory beef mixes with spicy chili, fruity Hawaiian slaw and sweet buns, which Stamatakis has special-made at a local bakery. It's a luau in my mouth. I polish off the first Lava Dog within three minutes and move right along to the tater tots.
In the heat of battle, the brain works to block painful injuries and keep you focused on your goal. Basketball players finish games on twisted ankles; football stars play through broken fingers; Monty Python's Black Knight wanted to keep fighting after losing limb after limb. In the zone as I am, I don't realize the damage that's been done to my mouth until I take the first bite of ketchup-dunked tater tot. The vinegar is like acid to the roof of my mouth.
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SHOW ME HOW
I move on to a double-beef slider, which is one of the best things I've ever put in my mouth. The bun is sweet and the beef is moist and topped with Maui mustard, which is made with passion fruit and makes this slider absolutely incredible. I devour it.
As I continue on, victory seems assured. I'm carving up these dogs like a pro surfer carves waves, making quick work of the Hana Dog as well as the remaining Lava Dog.
But then: WIPE OUT. My glorious battle ends upon my confrontation with the Island Dog (the one made with an all-beef bratwurst and toppings of coconut and pineapple). More than 25 minutes have elapsed, and deep into the challenge as I am, the beef of this particular link has become incredibly tough and chewy. I can feel each bit sticking in a clump somewhere down my esophagus. The toppings aren't helping -- the coconut and pineapple are much more prominent here than on any of the other dogs, and they're incredibly sweet. This thing tastes like a brat dipped in pina colada. Coupled with how ungodly full my stomach is, it's more than I can handle. I slog through a final few bites, but leave about half the Island Dog and some bits of the sliders behind. So close, yet so far.
The cook, safe from the melee behind the walls of his kitchen, looks at me disappointedly and slowly shakes his head. He'll see me again soon, though, when I use my free meal punch card to get me some more of those Hawaiian-style sliders. Cowabunga, and all that.