I absolutely abhor hotdogs.
When I was a kid, for reasons I can only guess at (finances, control issues, you name it), I had to eat them anyway. I also had to choke down lima beans and stewed tomatoes (straight up, heated right out of the can). But those, at least, could be argued to have some nutritional value.
I tried to just have the hotdog buns and toppings - minus those quivering taupe weiners, - but my request was repeatedly denied.
I can't tell you what's in a hotdog that's good for you. I don't think it even qualifies as a protein source, really (in my mind, as a fitness guy, that's a title reserved for something that has at least a gram more of protein than it does fat). Is there something so good in hotdogs that your kids have to eat them?
There was even a hotdog purgatory, in the town I did most of my growing up in, in the form of a hotdog restaurant. You walked into this place and ordered one of any of the 100 or so kinds of "gourmet" hotdogs that they had. It was my worst nightmare. My sisters loved it, though while I suspect that had at least a little to do with the fact that I hated it, I can't prove it.
To this day, I hate the humble hotdog. It's a flavour thing, not an ethics or food snobbery thing. Don't like beef, pork, chicken, or tofu weiners because they all taste like hotdog.
While the street vendor hotdog still pushes my buttons, they generally have such a great array of toppings on hand that I'll handle a veggie dog if I'm hungry and other options aren't available within 40 km (or 400 km if I'm driving). But I'd rather have the italian sausage, extra expense and waiting times be damned. No sausage? Okay, let's hit that veggie dog with some corn relish, pickles, olives, hot peppers, ketchup, barbeque sauce, mustard, and even the bacterial culture dish that comes out of a street vendor's mayo bottle. Weiner? What weiner?
There are a few other low-end of the nutritional scale foods that I don't like, but every once in a while, I find myself wanting them. Pancakes, for example, are something I crave about three times a year...even though I don't actually like them. Go figure. Fish sticks, well, I might handle those once in a three-year span. Hand me the tartar sauce, please. Baked beans? Sure, if I'm camping, or visiting a sugar shack in syrup season.
But hotdogs? No, thank you. Just can't do it. And frankly (pun intended), I don't see why I should.