Let Me Be Frank

The franks read like a mob roster. There is a Don you build yourself, an Enforcer stacked with blue cheese and sauerkraut, a Goodfella, an Outlaw, and a corn dog with the nerve to call itself the CORNsigliere. Let Me Be Frank runs a downtown Midland hot-dog counter around a single running conceit — a prohibition-era character named Frank whose fingerprints land on every menu line, every wall reference, and the name over the door on King Street. You order at the counter, and the bit runs from the first frank to the last donut.

The kitchen builds franks the way other kitchens build sandwiches. The namesake, The Let Me Be Frank, sets a quarter-pound all-beef frank under arugula, smoked mozzarella, marinara, crispy salami, and parmesan — an Italian lean that ties the plate back to the character. The High Roller goes richer still, with brie, caramelized onion, sauteed portobello, and garlic aioli; The Outlaw runs Swiss, bacon, mushroom, smoky barbecue, and crispy onions; and The 'DILL'inger piles a dill-oil bun with pickle aioli, shredded pickles, fried pickle rounds, and spicy dill chips for a frank built entirely around snap and salt. Vegetarians are not an afterthought either — the Goodfella turns a turkey or veggie sausage out with roasted red peppers, arugula, and curried ketchup. The through-line is a quarter-pound frank treated as the centre of the plate rather than a vehicle for condiments.

The format bends easily to a group. The Don is the order for choosy eaters, a build-your-own with a choice of all-beef, smoked pork sausage, turkey sausage, or veggie frank and a run through the topping tiers, so a mixed table can land on one menu without anyone compromising. Around the franks sit house-made sides that hold their own: mac and cheese you can have a cut-up frank dropped into, The Outfit baked beans, Wise Guy curly fries, and a Vig vegan chili. Dessert stays in character with Fuggedaboutit's — four hot mini donuts finished with cinnamon sugar, chocolate fudge, seasonal flavours, or a butter tart sauce that nods to the town that throws Ontario's best butter tart festival.

What holds it together is discipline behind the gimmick. A hot dog is an easy thing to dress up and a hard thing to make anyone take seriously, and the menu answers that by keeping every build specific — named toppings, defined frank bases, real ingredients doing real work rather than a pile of novelty. The theme carries the door; the cooking has to carry the plate, and here the bit never gets ahead of the food.

Victoria Atkins opened Let Me Be Frank in March 2024, taking over the former Midland Fish and Chips space a few doors into the King Street core. She runs it with her husband, Wes Haines, who works the kitchen, and local reporting has followed the couple since the launch. The civic side is not an afterthought: the restaurant runs a Frank It Forward program, supports a nearby shelter and the Georgian Bay food network, packs its takeout in compostable containers, and took a chamber of commerce new-business award in its first year. The couple turn up at the town's food events too, and channel some of that goodwill into fundraising for the local hospital foundation.

After the lunch counter winds down, the same storefront changes character without changing address. In the evenings it becomes Frankly Speaking, a small reservation-minded speakeasy that trades quick-service franks for cocktails, shared plates, and a Sunday brunch — the Frank universe extended past dark. Two businesses share one address and one running joke, and the joke turns out to have a real kitchen behind it: the counter that plates a namesake frank at noon pours a cocktail under the same name after dark.