Many years ago, I stepped into a Pittsburgh restaurant for a late-night meal.
The food fit the occasion. Hot dogs. Burgers. French fries.
It was all delicious. But as I ate, my mind was focused on something else.
That something was a sign that covered the entire façade of the restaurant.
The sign read Original Hot Dog Shop. Those words blared proudly in red neon, for all the neighborhood to see. And I was fixated on the first one.
I was fixated on that first term — original. And I wasn’t alone.
Indeed, generations of Pittsburgh residents had adapted that word when referring to the restaurant. Yinzers had come to call the place The Dirty O, or just The O. The name even caught on with out-of-towners — like my father, who grew up clear across the state of Pennsylvania.
But now, as I was sitting beneath that sign with a basket of fries, I couldn’t help but consider how unoriginal everything was.
The Original Hot Dog Shop hadn’t invented the hot dog or the French fry.
What gave it the right to say it had?
The crime The Original Hot Dog Shop committed wasn’t particularly egregious. Nor was it all that rare.
Within the restaurant industry alone, plenty of businesses claim to be original. There are dozens of Original Ray’s Pizza parlors in New York City, for instance. And the term has even made its way onto chains, such as The Original Pancake House.
This nomenclature has become tongue-in-cheek over the years. It’s a way for proprietors to smile, wink, and say Let’s just pretend.
But feigning originality isn’t just a lie. It’s a disservice.
You see, most staples of the food industry are memes. They’re adapted copies of something else.
Pasta is a meme for Asian noodles. Tacos are a meme for gyros. And hot dogs and French fries are also memes of other delicacies.
This lack of originality is what makes cuisine so tantalizing. In our collective quest to make a better meal, we make sure not to venture too far from the familiar. This way, our dishes can attract acclaim, not skepticism.
This concept rings true well beyond the bounds of food. The items we create, the stories we tell, the traditions we hold sacred — they’re all memes of what came before. They’re different enough to be noticed, but they’re not adapted beyond recognition.
Such patterns can sometimes work to our detriment. For example, Galileo Galilei and Charles Darwin were both visionaries who improved our understanding of the world. And yet, they were ostracized because their scientific work broke with religious tradition.
But even Darwin might have forgiven such missteps. After all, such backlash to his revolutionary findings would only prove our nature as an evolutionary species.
It would demonstrate that breaking the mold was not our style. It would prove originality to be nothing more than a pipe dream.
When in Rome, do as the Romans do.
Such advice has held for millennia. And for good reason.
The Roman Empire was renowned for its power and influence. Many hallmarks of our society today — from the shape of our government to the design of our cities — are memes of the Romans.
Yet, the United States of America emerged from a different empire — The British Empire. And this fact muddies the waters of the narrative.
You see, the British Empire is not a direct offshoot of the Roman one from centuries before. Yes, the Romans once ruled over much of Britain. But the British Isle represented the farthest reaches of the Roman Empire, and the locals didn’t exactly toe the company line.
The British tradition of traveling on the left side of the road was a direct affront to the Romans, who insisted that everyone stay to the right. And the English language is far removed from Latin — the predominant tongue of the Roman Empire.
Indeed, the English words that sound the most like Latin have French origins. Village comes from the French word ville, which means city. Chivalry comes from cheval, or horse. And courage is a derivative of coeur, which means heart.
In some ways, this meme-ification of language should come as no surprise. France and Britain are neighbors, separated only by a narrow channel of water. Proximity breeds imitation.
But the French language developed after the Roman Empire collapsed. France and England diverged into separate nations during this time, and they often found themselves at war with each other.
Why would the British adopt wording from their enemies? Why would they seek to meld cultures with the same group they were trying to vanquish on the battlefield?
It all has to do with the meme complex.
The British didn’t want to be the French. But they wanted to evolve and become more distinguished.
The Brits didn’t have the vocabulary for their quest. But their neighbors to the south did. So, the Brits copied them.
The British took the intricate wording of French high society and made it part of their own language. And through this process, they added an air of prestige.
This is the power of the meme.
Recently, The Original Hot Dog Shop closed its doors for good.
Decades of notoriety were no match for a burgeoning pandemic. As the economy spiraled into a recession, the restaurant dimmed its iconic neon sign.
All over Pittsburgh — and well beyond — people mourned the loss of the acclaimed restaurant. They talked about the hot dogs. They gushed about the fries.
Such delicacies could surely be found elsewhere in the Steel City. Across town at PNC Park, one could savor a hot dog while taking in a Pirates baseball game. At Primanti Brothers, French fries are served up inside sandwiches.
Those places have plenty. But they can’t quite match the ambiance of The O. It was truly one of a kind.
At least that’s what many were saying.
Perhaps this is what should define originality.
It shouldn’t be about breaking the mold. Rather, it should be about creating something that will be missed once it’s gone.
I could get on board with that. Could you?