I don’t like hot dogs. Something about the texture of this classic, all-American fare just doesn’t do it for me. Of course, they are a mainstay of holiday celebrations, from Memorial Day to the Fourth of July. People often comment in bewilderment when I reveal my distaste for them. Nevertheless, I’ve stood firm, almost always opting for a burger on any occasion involving a grill.

That sentiment, I learned during a recent reporting trip to Detroit, is not a popular one in the Motor City. Detroiters take great pride in their city’s claim to inventing the Coney dog, a style of hot dog popular in the Midwest and especially Michigan. Coney dogs distinguish themselves with their toppings, which include a soupy, all-meat chili; diced white onions; and a squiggle of yellow mustard. The sausage of a traditional Coney dog also comes in its natural casing, giving it a satisfying “snap” when you bite into it.

But perhaps more significant than the Coney dog itself is the rivalry it has created in its supposed hometown. (The authenticity of Detroit’s invention claim is disputed.) Two local joints, American Coney Island and Lafayette Coney Island, say they make the best Coney dog around. The restaurants sit next to one another in the heart of downtown and have been embroiled in a (mostly) friendly rivalry for more than 100 years.

Why We Wrote This

Detroiters take great pride in their city’s claim to inventing the Coney dog. For more than 100 years, two side-by-side restaurants have been embroiled in a (mostly) friendly rivalry. People will even specify “Lafayette” or “American” on dating profiles. Our reporter decided to put his dislike for hot dogs aside and give each an honest try. Anything for journalism.

After hearing tales during our reporting, my colleagues and I started asking our sources which of the two restaurants they preferred. Everyone had an opinion – and sometimes a strong one. People will even specify “Lafayette” or “American” on dating profiles. I decided to put my dislike for hot dogs aside and give each restaurant an honest try. Anything for journalism.

One might assume the Coney dog comes from New York’s Coney Island, home to the amusement park in Brooklyn widely considered the birthplace of the hot dog. Not so. Though it’s difficult to definitively pin down the Coney dog’s place of origin, Detroit makes a strong case by sheer number of restaurants. Joe Grimm, co-author of “Coney Detroit,” once told NPR that Greater Detroit boasts about 500 Coney dog restaurants.

One popular origin story goes like this: As Greek immigrants flocked to Detroit’s burgeoning Greektown in the early 20th century, they often passed through New York, then the largest port of entry for those seeking a new life in the United States. There, they encountered Coney Island, where hot dogs had already become all the rage, and borrowed the name for their own sausage-hawking ventures.

That tale fits well with the story of Lafayette and American, the latter of which also sells Greek food. Constantine “Gust” Keros, a Greek immigrant, founded American Coney Island in 1917, according to the restaurant’s website. A few years later, he invited his brother William to the states to help, and William eventually opened his own restaurant, Lafayette, in 1924. The two establishments have been next-door neighbors ever since.

I started with Lafayette. Inside the restaurant, a narrow hallway runs alongside a small bar, where servers clad in white shirts and aprons dish up their famed fare, before opening into a larger seating area. Various framings of newspaper articles and portraits of people associated with the restaurant hang on its turquoise accent walls. It has the kind of vibe of the endearing diner you might encounter on the side of a highway during a long road trip.

A gruff server with an accent I couldn’t place asked me what I wanted to order. I took a moment to look over the menu before deciding on a classic Coney without the chili. I realize, now, that omission was a mistake – I hadn’t yet done the scrupulous research that would later tell me the chili is the best part. Nevertheless, the server merely cocked an eyebrow at my request and prepared my order.

I have to admit that Lafayette’s Coney was one of the better hot dogs I’ve tried. Part of my hang-up with hot dogs is that they strike my tastebuds as artificial. Not so at Lafayette: Their Coney tasted like 100% beef.

A few patrons agreed. “There’s no competition, really,” says Richard Trudo, pausing between bites of his classic Coney and fries, when I ask why he prefers Lafayette over American. “It tastes like it’s real,” adds Angela Trudo, his dining companion.

For fairness sake, I ordered the same thing at American. I’m sorry to say that their take on the Coney didn’t impress me as much. It tasted like a regular old hot dog – not bad, but nothing all that special.

But what American might lack in flavor, it makes up for in style. Decked out in red and white paneling, with chairs to match, American’s seating area is far larger than Lafayette’s, and sunlight poured into the space from tall windows. The black-and-white checkered floor, American flags hanging on the wall, and servers wearing retro diner hats makes the restaurant feel like a true mid-20th-century eating experience. I appreciated their flair, even if my hot dog had a few too many scoops of onion.

That dedication to form does appear to draw in customers. “This one looks cool,” says Demetrius Harmon, who’s waiting for his food alongside a friend, when I ask what made him stop by American instead of Lafayette on this day.

He also brings up a sore point for Lafayette that’s made him wary of the restaurant: It shut down in January, for the second time in three years, after a rat sighting.

A waiter, overhearing our conversation as he serves Mr. Harmon and his companion, interjects. “Yes, you’re right,” he says. “They do have rats on the other side over there.”

Really, what ties Detroiters to their Coney dogs, in a city with a rich, vibrant, and diverse food scene, is familiarity. For Richard and Angela Trudo, their allegiance to Lafayette is a matter of tradition.

“I’ve been coming here since I was 5,” Mr. Trudo says. “Came with my dad all the time.”

“We’ve been coming here forever,” Ms. Trudo agrees.