Lunch Money: In the Queue at Durham’s Que Dogs

In December, I set myself a challenge inspired by a 20-year-old episode of a Rachael Ray Food Network show: Could I get three meals, a snack, and a drink in Durham for under $40? 

That piece went over well enough that we’re launching a regular series focused on budget dining. What exactly does budget dining mean in 2025? This has been a subject of hot debate at the office. Depending on how the tariff situation shakes out in the future, the debate may be ongoing. Eventually, though, we landed on criteria for our ongoing “Lunch Money” column: one meal under $15, 20 percent tip included.

My goal is to secure a main dish, a side, and a drink whenever possible, though the modern lunchscape may make this traditional trio a challenge as restaurants increasingly focus on all-in-one entrées rather than separate components. 

For my inaugural outing, I set my sights on Durham’s QueDogs, which opened its first brick-and-mortar spot in March. The charcoal-black shack stands in the middle of the Lakewood Shopping Center parking lot like a lighthouse in a sea of asphalt.  

The family who owns QueDogs has been selling hot dogs and barbecue from a mobile cart for years before finally settling into this permanent location—a spot with hot dog history, having previously housed Citi Dogs and The Dog House. It opened March 1. 

QueDogs’ claim to fame is hot dogs topped with pulled-pork barbecue. But upon studying the black-and-red menu board, I realize the signature QueDog ($9) would push me close to my limit before even adding sides. I could go with the Plain Jane ($5), a naked dog awaiting customization, or the Chili Billie ($6) with their house chili, but they seem too straightforward for this mission. The Que Sandwich with barbecue and slaw ($7) seems most promising.

“I’m thinking maybe the sandwich?” I say to the cashier, who introduced himself to me as Alan when I walked up to the ordering window.

“It’s very flavorful and filling,” he confirms. 

For a side, I want the potato salad with bacon ($3), but with a $2 can of Pepsi, I’d be at nearly $14, which wouldn’t leave enough for a 20 percent tip. I pivot to a bag of Lay’s ($2). 

I’m feeling good. But when the payment screen appears, I freeze. The tip options are 15 percent, 18 percent, and 25 percent. I could ask Alan to return to the previous screen, with the pre-tip total, so I can calculate 20 percent on my phone and enter a custom tip amount, but in the pressure of the moment, I panic and tap 25 percent. Grand total: $15.75.

Later, I realize that a 20 percent tip would have put me at $15.20, still over budget. Maybe this is why I became a writer instead of an accountant. 

After a two-minute wait, Alan calls my name from the pickup window. There’s a napkin and some hot sauce in the bag, he tells me, before bidding me to “let us know what you think and leave a Google review.” 

I walk to my car and set up a picnic on my trunk. Before I can take a bite, I notice two people sitting in the bed of a white pickup truck nearby, nodding enthusiastically as they eat. Their enjoyment is so animated it seems almost staged, like extras in a commercial who’ve been instructed to look delighted by every bite.

When I hear one of them say, “I feel like this is the perfect amount of food,” I feel I have to approach them.

Their names are Lindsey and Nick, and they have a whole system worked out.

“We do splitsies,” Nick explains. One of them orders the #1 combo ($14)—two “all the way” dogs topped with chili, slaw, and red onions. The other gets the #3 combo ($18)—two QueDogs topped with barbecue and slaw. Then they each get one hot dog from each combo.

They also split the potato salad with bacon (“it has whole grain mustard in it,” Lindsey notes).

Later, I run their meal numbers: roughly $22 per person.

Back at my trunk, I unwrap my sandwich. It’s a good weight in my hand, and the bun is pillow-soft, yielding gently as I take my first bite. The flavor profile hits sweet-tart notes—the barbecue offering a molasses sweetness while the slaw provides a piquant counterpoint. Flecks of carrot and cabbage are visible in the mix, along with black pepper specks that add a nice kick.

The sandwich remains intact throughout the eating experience. Unlike some barbecue sandwiches that disintegrate halfway through, this one maintains its structural integrity, allowing the flavors to blend with each bite rather than land in my lap.

The Lay’s and Pepsi were—well, y’all know what those taste like.

I might have failed at staying under budget in my initial column, but QueDogs succeeds at what matters most: serving good food without pretense. I’ll be back in a few weeks with my calculator app primed and the courage to ask for a custom tip amount, social anxiety be damned.

Reach Staff Writer Lena Geller at lgeller@indyweek.com. Comment on this story at backtalk@indyweek.com.

This post was originally published on this site be sure to check out more of their content.