9 Store-Bought Hot Dog Buns, Ranked Worst To Best

Some things just go better together. What would American summers be without fireworks and state fairs? What would baseball games be without peanuts and overpriced beer? And perhaps most importantly, where would a hot dog be without its bun?

The two are now seemingly often seen side by side — usually canoodling under a blanket of ketchup, mustard, and relish — that it's hard to imagine a time when they existed separately. However, sausages and franks predate buns by quite a bit, dating back to ancient times, while franks are commonly associated with 15th-century Germany. That soft bread cradle didn't pop up until much later. Most origin stories point to the turn of the 20th century and a German vendor who first started selling sausages in buns, creating a legendary food item that we've come to know as a hot dog.

At this point, it doesn't really matter who did it first. We're just glad it happened, and even more thankful that many brands continue the tradition today. If you walk into the bread aisle, you'll be met with an endless assortment of buns to choose from. You may automatically pick up a pack based on cost or brand loyalty, but I wanted to test which options are a home run when it comes to taste alone. To find out, I tried nine different hot dog bun brands, looking purely at flavor and texture.

I feel bad for ranking these rolls so low. For a gluten-free product, they're surprisingly decent. It's just that when stacked against wheat, buttered, or even honeyed buns, they never stood a chance.

Schär is a European brand, and it doesn't just specialize in hot dog buns, but gluten-free bread, pasta, and snacks of all kinds. It additionally doesn't just stop at gluten-free. Many of its products are also egg-free, dairy-free, soy-free, and vegan. Essentially, they're friendly to nearly every different kind of food intolerance you can have.

To accommodate all these diets, the hot dog rolls are sourdough-based and include ingredients like rice flour, millet flour, sunflower oil, and yeast. Their texture is described as soft and fluffy with a slight chew. However, I'd say that's only partially true. They're definitely airy, and they came across more like a French baguette and sourdough loaf hybrid. Additionally, the consistency isn't as crumbly as some gluten-free bread products can get. However, they're powdery, dry, and don't carry a whole lot of natural flavor. So, even though they stand up well to a juicy hot dog, they're not necessarily adding any value to the meal. Considering you're also paying a premium price for just four buns, it ultimately felt like there were better options out there, even though these do serve their (gluten-free) purpose.

It's always easy to identify Schwebel's thanks to the red-nosed clown on the front of the packaging. Nicknamed Happy the Clown, the mascot was originally designed to be an uplifting image during the Great Depression. Now, nearly a century later, he comes off a bit more creepy than anything else as he stares at you through the squinty eyes. Perhaps Schwebel's could use a slight brand refresh, and maybe it could upgrade its hot dog bun recipe while it's at it. This bun is one of the more forgettable, lower-quality options I tried.

You may look at it and assume it's the size that makes it inferior. It is the smallest bun of the bunch, after all, barely extending to the ends of the hot dog. But I actually like this more balanced ratio of bread to meat. Where it falters is the texture. It's very similar to a slice of plain white bread and gets stuck to your teeth and the roof of your mouth. At the same time, it's rather tasteless, so it really just acts as a vessel to move the hot dog from the plate to your mouth.

It only jumps the gluten-free bun in the rankings because of the more familiar hot dog bun build. Honestly, though, perhaps the best thing about this bag is that it somehow came with a ninth bonus bun. In this economy, freebies are always appreciated.

The Ball Park brand really got its start in a ballpark. It first rolled out its franks at the Detroit Tigers stadium in 1957 and has been associated with America's pastime ever since. Not only that, but it's also become the most popular hot dog brand in U.S. grocery stores.

I used a pack of the brand's beef franks to test with each of these buns, and I figured the pairing of a Ball Park hot dog with a Ball Park bun would go together like mustard and ketchup or summer and cookouts. Unfortunately, though, the bun feels more like an afterthought next to its beefy counterpart. Though I picked up the buttery option, it still fell behind most other brands. They come with an oily sheen, but all that glistens is not gold. As soon as I picked up my test bun, with the hot dog in tow, it started to fall apart in my hands. It was crackly and crumbled from what seemed like a lack of moisture — it almost seemed like it was stale. Real butter is included on the ingredient list, though its taste is subtle. The promises of "buttery flavor in every bite" fall short.

All this makes for an average at best bun that barely edges out Schwebel's Happy the Clown option. I expected more from a brand that produces such a grand slam of a store-bought hot dog.

I like the idea of top-sliced hot dog buns. There's some careful thought behind this design. The flat bottom makes it easier to load it up with all the toppings your heart desires without fear of it tipping over. The structural integrity is also what makes them such a good choice for something like lobster rolls, which come dripping in butter.

Pepperidge Farm actually does a decent job with the concept, though there's room for improvement. The buns are sturdy, and despite being entirely wheat-based, they are soft and buttery, almost resembling potato buns. The reason they don't make it too far in the ranking is that they're a bit too large for a standard hot dog, so it becomes somewhat overwhelming — like it's the bun show rather than a two-part performance. On top of that, the buns seem just slightly overcooked. Each one had a deeply browned top with a faint crispness to it.

While the top-split sounds great in theory, execution is key, and to be frank, I was at loss for how to eat it. Do you still tilt it sideways like a traditional hot dog? Or are you supposed to go straight in from the top like you're eating a sandwich? This could be a personal problem, but there doesn't seem to be a correct answer — or at least not a particularly graceful one.

Johnsonville is uber-focused on churning out America's favorite sausages and bringing intriguing flavors to the table, like its new Dr Pepper-infused line (no, I'm not joking). So, while it's busy with other more carnivorous pursuits, it has partnered with Aunt Millie's to handle the bun part of the equation.

We have to keep in mind that this bun is built specifically for Johnsonville's brats and bulky sausages, so it absolutely drowns a normal-sized hot dog. It somehow feels even larger than the top-sliced Pepperidge Farm buns, which already seemed oversized. Since it does make such a poor match for a standard frank, I couldn't justify placing it any higher in the taste test. I truly think even a thick bratwurst might struggle against it. It seems far better suited for a piled-high sub (and the look would certainly be fitting for that kind of sandwich). But its unique flavor helps. There's something very bagel-like about this bun. It has a chewy texture and subtly sweet flavor that defines a bagel. It's just lighter and more airy, so it doesn't feel quite as heavy.

Marketed as a hoagie roll, I think it would make a knockout version. In the dog-eat-dog world of hot dog buns, though, it feels oddly out of place.

Separate from its collab with Johnsonville, Aunt Millie's covers some serious real estate in the bun aisle. Hot dog buns alone span from classic white to brioche and artisan-style whole grain, but I decided to go with the honey stadium-style buns.

The brand talks a big game, claiming that the buns are generously portioned and can house big sausages and franks. Plus, the honeyed sweetness supposedly leaves the other buns behind. They may not be that good — certainly not to the point that it warrants bun on bun trash talk — but they do deliver, resulting in a can't-go-wrong kind of option. They're somewhat classic, with a soft, springy texture. The exterior was slightly brittle, but it gave way to a more tender center. Flavor-wise, they're mostly yeasty and approachable. I actually wish the honey had come through a bit more, because that extra touch of sweetness would pair really well with the savory, smoky sausage flavor. Instead, the sweetness just barely comes through in most bites.

Compared to the previous two buns, I really appreciated the size. It fit the hot dog like a missing puzzle piece — not overbearingly bready, but also not skimpy enough to leave the hot dog hanging off the sides. All in all, it's not overly flashy, but it's dependable and doesn't overcomplicate the dog-and-bun pairing.

I was expecting these to be good for a few different reasons. For starters, the Sara Lee Artesano line of bakery-style bread is consistently good. Then, you have to take into account the golden, gleaming look of these buns. They're perfectly smooth and shiny in all their brioche glory. Finally, the brand follows all that up with the subtle mention of "a touch of real butter" printed on the front of the bag. Needless to say, my expectations were high, and the brand delivers on most fronts. I'd say it's a product worthy of all the marketing fanfare.

These buns just feel a bit more gourmet than your standard grocery store fare. The packaging may only advertise a hint of butter, but its presence is clearly felt. Each bite has a richer, slightly fattier flavor that almost comes across as indulgent. It's actually not too far off from a yeasty dinner roll, and I think the addition of egg to the recipe helps create some of that deeper, fuller profile. The taste alone is a knockout compared to other offerings like Aunt Millie's honey buns, but the texture keeps Sara Lee from a top spot.

Brioche buns have a coarser crumb than others. They're spongy but also grainy on both halves — especially on the bottom piece. This rougher consistency makes them feel dry and even a bit stiff next to the juicy frank.

It really is a wonder how such a seemingly standard, no-frills bun can taste so good. The Wonder brand doesn't make big promises by promoting buns pumped with butter or honey. It doesn't try to entice you with a split top or giant size. It doesn't flip the script on a classic-style hot dog bun at all, but it nails the fundamentals all the same, proving that simplicity (when done right) goes a long way.

Based on looks alone, the Wonder bun is unassuming — it's not the one I would have reached for first. Until you get a good bite of it, you don't realize where its strengths lie. It's the softest bun I've tried. Nothing else even came close. They're ultra-fluffy, and what was even more impressive was how fresh they tasted, like they had been plucked from the oven just an hour or so before. As for the flavor, it leans on that traditional white bread profile, but it elevates it with an extra shot of sweetness. I even thought it was just as sweet, if not sweeter than Aunt Millie's buns that were supposedly laced with honey.

The fact that this is Wonder Bread's one and only hot dog bun variety honestly says a lot. It's all you need. Well, that and perhaps the next bun that has a more upscale feel with a flavor to match. If you're looking for a good old-fashioned option, though, go with Wonder.

Nature's Own brioche rolls offer everything you could want in a hot dog bun and more. It follows the same kind of artisan style as Sara Lee's buns, but execution is just a little bit better. They even outperform the Wonder bread buns with a similar level of softness yet a more elevated flavor.

Yellow color and shiny surface hint that butter is heavily involved. It's the bun's main draw, along with just the right amount of sweetness to go with it. It holds plenty of moisture, and it's squishy as it can be. It's the kind of bun that you could see yourself eating all by itself, no frank required. Nature's Own also notes that this is part of a newer, simpler recipe, so it's now non-GMO and free from ingredients like high fructose corn syrup and artificial preservatives, which is another win.

Considering Nature's Own is one of the best-selling bread brands, maybe it shouldn't come as a surprise that it also makes one of the best hot dog buns you're likely to find on grocery store shelves. More than anything, though, a hot dog just feels right at home tucked inside one of these buns. It feels like a natural, well-balanced pairing, and I like that it comes in a somewhat versatile size. It works perfectly fine with a standard hot dog, but it could also take on a larger brat or sausage.

I specifically wanted to focus on name brands for this article. So, I scooped up nine options at a local supermarket and resisted picking up generic store brands (despite competitive prices). As some brands have multiple hot dog bun options, I picked the one that seemed most intriguing. At home, I paired each one with a Ball Park all-beef hot dog that I warmed up in the microwave. Grilling would be preferred, but I went with the simplest method to give more attention to the bun. I then tasted all nine and began the ranking process.

All you really need from a hot dog bun is a great taste and an even better texture. They should be ultra soft and fluffy to the point that they nearly melt in your mouth. At the same time, you want it to be sturdy enough not to waver under the weight of a frank. A little bit of moisture also goes a long way. A bun too dry or coarse is difficult to remedy, even with a sizable glob of ketchup or mustard. As for taste, Wonder option proves that lightly sweet and otherwise neutral is more than enough, but a touch of butter also never hurts. Finally, size ended up being another important factor. Anything too small felt skimpy, while oversize buns were overwhelming. You need one that's just right, and that feels like it really was made for a smoky hot dog.