Famous since 1916 for the sweet heat of its chili sauce, the flaky ice in cups of Coke and the dark, rich chocolate milk, served icy-cold to generations of Macon children, this "weenie stand" may well have been the model for its more famous rival just 70 miles up the road in Atlanta.

One look at the uncanny similarity of their menus, and you can't help but wonder: If Nu Way opened 12 years before The Varsity, did The Varsity steal its shtick from the folks at Nu Way?

Nu Way President Spyros Dermatas is more than diplomatic: "The way my uncle tells the story, Mr. Gordy traveled all around the South, all the way down to Orlando, Fla., exploring different restaurants and concepts. He stopped in Macon and talked with Uncle George and Uncle Gus 'cause he had heard of Nu Way... Mr. Gordy was very impressed. He went back and introduced the hot dog on his menu and the rest is history. You gotta give him credit; they've done a good job with it."

A good job indeed.

Today, the Varsity is revered the world over. Ask a dedicated grease-hound about America's top hot dogs, and he is as likely to mention the Varsity as Nathan's of Coney Island fame. Each year, thousands belly up to the counter at the flagship Atlanta location, bark out an order and then retreat to their table with a couple a dogs, a bag of rags (potato chips) and an F.O. (frosted orange). Legions of Georgia Tech graduates now cover the globe, preaching the greasy gospel according to Gordy. Yet just a few miles down I-75, Nu Way Weiners labors on in comparative obscurity, secure in the knowledge that they were first and are better.

For though the Varsity fries up a fine mess of onion rings and its pimento cheese steaks haunt many a vegan's dreams, the fabled Varsity chili dog is merely an impostor to the throne of hot dog high priestdom.

On your first pilgrimage to Macon, seek out the original Nu Way location on Cotton Avenue. Complex directions aren't necessary. Just head downtown and look for the 1930's vintage neon sign with its blinking promise, "Best Weiner In Town." Snag a seat at the counter and order a slaw dog, a regular dog and a side of fries.

Cradled in a steamed bun that threatens collapse, your hot dog will be slathered with mustard and chili and topped with diced onion, and if you order a slaw dog, crowned with a heaping helping of creamy sweet cabbage.

Midway into your first bite, a latent culinary curiosity comes alive. Compelled to know the secret of the sauce that smothers the bright red dog, you ask: "Is that cinnamon I taste? Maybe a hint of chocolate? Did you say the owners are of Greek ancestry?"

Bear down hard in your questioning of a Nu Way employee and you are likely to learn that, though the chili sauce is a closely guarded family secret, rich with eleven spices, the real power behind the throne is as Southern as sweet tea. "Since the late 20's we've been spooning a little barbecue sauce on each dog," reveals Dermatas. "It's a sweet sauce; we make it ourselves. It kinda smoothes out the chili taste."

As if explanation were required, Dermatas grins and says, "First generation Greeks started this place and Greeks still own it, but we're Southern now."

Six Nu Way Weiner locations around Macon, two in Warner Robins and one in Fort Valley serve chili dogs seven days a week. For directions call (912) 743-1368.

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