Because I know this has been keeping you up at night — at least last night — Y&H has been tirelessly digging to find out what exactly French president Nicolas Sarkozy and first lady Carla Bruni ate during their visit yesterday to Ben's Chili Bowl. The accounts yesterday conflicted wildly.

I have twice tried to talk to someone in the French embassy's press office, which is conveniently open from 9 a.m. to noon. (Motto: "You're an insignificant piece of carpet lint! Go away!") No help there.

I also called co-owner Nizam Ali, who graciously took my call while he was on vacation in Puerto Rico. "I missed the second president to visit Ben's Chili Bowl," says Ali, who was taking his child to a fire station when Barack Obama visited last year. Ali, however, directed me to the coolest manager on U Street, Maurice Harcum.

Maurice knew the score.

Sarkozy, Harcum told me, ordered a chili burger, while his wife, former supermodel Bruni, requested a basic hot dog with mustard, relish, and pickles. The president's two boys from a previous marriage had a half-smoke and a cheeseburger (which they liked so much they ordered seconds).

But as Sarkozy and Bruni dined in the back room, watching a short film about the history of Ben's, the couple learned about the shop's famous half-smoke. Intrigued by the spicy link, they decided to split one.

Except they ordered it plain, without a bun even. When told that its accompanying chili was spicy, the couple asked for it on the side. Harcum isn't sure Bruni ever sampled the chili. But he says the couple ate everything else.

"They were very happy when they left," Harcum says.

Y&H isn't sure why it took Ben's Chili Bowl more than a year to capitalize on Barack Obama's visit to the landmark eatery. Maybe brothers Kamal and Nizam Ali wanted to wait long enough so people forgot that, technically, Obama was only the president-elect when he dropped by in early January '09. Obama wouldn't be sworn in for another 10 days.

Or maybe Ben Ali didn't like the idea.

Whatever the reason, Ben's started hawking these bumper stickers yesterday. You can pick them up at the lunch counter for a buck apiece.

You can also take satisfaction in knowing you're like the president in another way: You have to pay, too. Bill Cosby says so. (Check out the sign next to the griddle; it will explain everything.)

At 72, Bill Cosby might be at an age when his doctor looks the comedian dead in the eye and says, "Bill, I'm telling you, if you want to see 73, lay off the half-smokes." Well, if Cos has ever heard those words, he's not heeding them.

Nizam Ali, youngest son of founders Virginia and the late Ben Ali, says Cosby still grabs half-smokes at Ben's Chili Bowl every time he's in town. (I mean, why not? He's still only one of two folks who eats free at Ben's, the recent winner of our D.C. Dish Hall of Fame contest.)

"If he doesn't physically come in the door," Ali tells Y&H, "he'll send a car by or the hotel will send a car by or his venue will just happen to come by and get them or he'll call in and have us deliver them. So he always seems to get them when he's in town some kind of way, whether or not he actually walks in the door."

Cos did walk in the door in October when the Kennedy Center awarded him the Mark Twain Prize for American Humor.

"He walked in and said hello to everybody," Ali remembers. But Cos did one thing more: He ordered up half-smokes for a reception at the big Twain event.

That's right, the half-smoke made its debut at the Kennedy Center.

Photo by devriesm via Flickr Creative Commons, Attribution License

Yesterday, readers of the Young & Hungry newsletter (hint, hint: sign up at right) got first word on who won the D.C. Dish Hall of Fame. Today, we tell everyone the results of our debut contest, which we launched back in October with the idea of sussing out the dishes that best define the D.C. metro area.

From the very beginning, voters were clear on their favorite. It's the same one that Bill Cosby loves. The same one that puzzled future president Barack Obama. The same one made in Baltimore but rich in D.C. history.

Yep, you know it as the chili half-smoke from Ben's Chili Bowl.

The famous link in the natural casing, topped with the joint's dark signature meat gravy, beat the nearest competitor, the falafel from Amsterdam Falafelshop, by more than 100 votes. In terms of this contest, that's a landslide.

It's a landslide particularly when you consider that Ben's, unlike Amsterdam, did not solicit customers to vote for its dish. Nizam Ali, the youngest son of founders Virginia and the late Ben Ali, says he didn't even know about the Hall of Fame voting until late last week. At that point, he told a handful of friends about it, and even voted himself, but didn't promote the contest at the Bowl.

Who did Nizam Ali vote for? "I voted for us, of course," says Ali, who now runs Ben's with older brother Kamal. "I voted for Horace & Dickie's fried fish and what was the other one? I can't remember now."

"Oh, I think it was 2Amys," he says about the pizzeria's Margherita pie.

Many of the 1,238 voters agreed with Ali's choices. More than 500 of them voted for the chili half-smoke, followed by the falafel at Amsterdam (395 votes), the hamburger at Five Guys (259), the Peruvian chicken at El Pollo Rico (193), and the Margherita pizza at 2Amys (186). These five dishes make up the inaugural class of the D.C. Dish Hall of Fame.

"It is only because of the loyal following of our customers that we could have achieved something like this, and we are honored beyond belief to be included with the likes of true landmarks like Ben's, and true culinary delights like 2Amys," writes Arianne Bennett, co-owner of Amsterdam Falafelshop with husband, Scott.

Bennett's not kidding about the loyal following. Their customers are so loyal, they take orders. Bennett admits that Amsterdam added a note to the bottom of the shop's receipts, urging customers to vote; she also alerted the vegetarian community in an effort to solicit more votes for the only veggie option in the competition. Maybe as a result, many of the comments we received about Amsterdam's falafel were nothing less than gushing.

A sample: "Amsterdam has the Best Falefel ever, I adore them and wish there was one right next to my house!"

Then again, Ben's earned its praise without any prodding from the restaurant. Consider this reader comment: "As much as I enjoy a nice dinner at Central or Cafe Atlantico, nothing beats a half-smoke. And no half-smoke beats one from Ben's. I just moved away from DC after 22 years this fall, and the idea that I won't ever be able to eat a half-smoke unless I'm visiting my parents kills me."

Or consider what chefs think about Ben's half-smoke, despite the fact that it's a commercial sausage produced by Manger Packing Corp. in Baltimore. "I have had the half smoke with chili. I have had the half smoke with a fried egg. I think it's good," says chef R.J. Cooper of Vidalia, where he's been known to make his own sausages. "Is it the quintessential Washington, D.C. food? If anything is it, that would have to be it."

The interesting thing is that both Ben's and Amsterdam — one an institution, the other a budding one — are still formulating or thinking about franchising plans. Could either one (or both) become the next Five Guys, a once (and always) beloved local institution that has spread its seed all over the country?

The question is rather loaded, especially for Nizam Ali and family. Ali said he had read Y&H's recent blog item, in which I wondered whether Five Guys' burger was still Hall of Fame worthy given that the chain's aggressive franchising has (sometimes) hurt the quality of its product (not to mention managers' ability to make sure cooks know how to griddle those patties properly).

"I thought to myself, Hey, if and when or somewhere down the line if the Chili Bowl franchises, would that knock the half-smoke or Ben's out of the running[for a place among D.C.'s iconic dishes]?" Nizam Ali says. "It's an interesting question."

It's an interesting question for the Alis because, for 51 years now, they have prided themselves on their personal touch at Ben's. They've prided themselves on the history that the U Street institution oozes. They've prided themselves, in short, on being a family-run business.

"Because of the history and legacy of the family, we really want to do it our way and kind of want to keep control of it," Nizam Ali says. "The Chili Bowl has been all about family, and we want to keep our family intact. So if I'm running around selling franchises and my brother's running and going to the openings and checking the quality, then we're both divorced...You know what I mean? So what's more important? The running around and opening thousands of stores or making sure that your home life is happy and all that stuff. That's kind of more important to us."

At the same time, the Alis have not ruled out franchising altogether. It's probably impossible to rule out franchising when the family constantly receives calls about it. But here's hoping that Ben's never becomes another Five Guys, no matter how much money they could make from it.

As a final note, I want to thank all of you who participated in our very first D.C. Dish Hall of Fame contest. If you have some thoughts about the results, please e-mail them to me, and I'll publish the best on the blog.

In the meantime, go out and congratulate the winners by visiting their restaurants.

The inaugural class of the D.C. Dish Hall of Fame:

Half-smoke with chili at Ben's Chili Bowl, 502 votes

Falafel at Amsterdam Falafelshop, 395

Hamburger at Five Guys, 259

Peruvian chicken at El Pollo Rico, 193

Margherita pizza at 2Amys, 186

All three of Ben Ali's sons plan to speak at the memorial service set for Friday at the Lincoln Theatre, right next door to the greasy spoon he made famous.  Mayor Adrian Fenty may speak, too, but as of this afternoon, no other people, famous or otherwise, are scheduled to honor the founder of Ben's Chili Bowl, who died last week at age 82.

And that's just fine with Nizam Ali, the youngest of Ben Ali's sons, who says his father wouldn't have wanted any fuss. The "Celebration of Life," scheduled for noon Friday at the theater, "is going to be like a family thing that we're going to open to the public," Nizam Ali tells Y&H this afternoon.

The memorial is free and open to the public. All you have to do is show up at the theater and grab one of the 1,225 seats available — well, minus however many seats the Ali clan needs, which, Nizam Ali thinks, might run as high as 200.

The family is going to show a short video that it put together for Ben Ali's 80th birthday as well as some other clips about the founder's life and the restaurant he created. The speakers for the afternoon will include Ben Ali's sons — Nizam, Kamal, and Sage — and possibly Fenty, although the mayor hasn't confirmed yet.

So will Bill Cosby or President Obama or any celebrities who have made the pilgrimage to Ben's speak at the service?

"I don't think so," Nizam Ali says. "We didn't ask or seek anyone."

The family, however, is seeking your thoughts. They will have microphones around the theater for you to share your memories about Ben's and its founder.

As for after-service snacks, Nizam Ali says no final plans are set. The family is considering having chili dogs at the theater. But if not, people can always walk next door to Ben's and enjoy chili dogs in the very place that made Ben Ali a local legend.  Well, some people can at least.

"With 1,200 [potential people in the theater], it's not going to be possible" to serve everyone, Nizam Ali says.

Y&H wishes he knew who produced this segment on Ben's Chili Bowl. It captures some nice moments, like this one from Nizam Ali, son of founder Ben, who died yesterday at 82. Nizam Ali talks about the struggle to maintain U Street's African-American identity in the face of gentrification:

"It's a duty to be here," he says. "We're going to carry it on as long as we can."

No one but the employees knew about Ben Ali's death.

The managers of Ben's Chili Bowl had told their employees this morning that Ben Ali died in his bed last night, but they didn't want their customers in the restaurant to know yet. So there was nary a clue at the landmark U Street eatery. No signs. No weeping employees. Only a Web notice for those who had somehow checked it before arriving.

The only thing at Ben's that might have tipped off an attentive diner was the music. It was soul music, the mournful variety. "Never Can Say Goodbye," by the Jackson 5 was playing softly in the background, the band's lead singer just a memory now, too.

"The mood is very somber," said Sonya Ali, wife of Kamal Ali, one of the two surviving brothers who now run Ben's. "The music is even somber."

Sonya Ali said the entire family was gathering at Ben and Virginia Ali's home in North Portal, including Sage, an artist and musician who lives in California.  Sage's wife, Sonya Ali noted, is a publicist and will help the family plan a public announcement and figure out how to honor the man who founded what has become, courtesy of Bill Cosby and President Barack Obama, D.C.'s most famous restaurant.

The family is "as well as can be expected," Sonya Ali said, including wife, Virginia, who married Ben in October 1958, just two months after opening Ben's Chili Bowl. The couple would have celebrated their 51st anniversary on Saturday.

"She believed in him then and to the very end," Sonya Ali said.

Employees were shocked but supportive when managers broke the news this morning. The family, Sonya Ali said, had no immediate plans to close today or through whatever private and public funeral arrangements are eventually announced. "I don't think so," Sonya Ali said. "That's not what he'd want...He doesn't want a lot of fanfare."

Manager Maurice Harcum had known Ben Ali for 10 years, ever since the founder hired him for the night shift at Ben's. Ben Ali, despite his failing health, showed up at his namesake restaurant at least once a week, Harcum said, but he couldn't eat the half-smokes and chili that had made him famous.

"Mrs. Ali wouldn't let him," Harcum said. "He still loved his milkshakes, though."

Vanilla was Ben Ali's flavor, the manager said, and he had to settle on the small size, for his health's sake.

Employees, managers, and family all said Ben Ali was a great businessman. "He knew how to get things done," said Sonya Ali, who performs a variety of tasks for the family businesses, including Ben's Next Door, the full-service restaurant right next to Ben's.

"I'm not saying that I agreed with him all time," Sonya Ali added after a beat. "He was a man determined to have his way."

Nizam Ali agreed. He said his father was "persistent," "strong willed," and had a "great business mind."

"He took control of each moment," Nizam Ali added. "He lived life the way that he wanted to. No regrets."

Asked to try to put his father's legacy in perspective, Nizam Ali understandably struggled for words. Then he said his father's "story, as an immigrant from Trinidad, is probably the ultimate American dream."

If the family was holding it together well, at least publicly, one loyal customer was shocked. As he waited in line for his usual hot dog, Keith Turner first heard the news from a reporter.

"Wow," he said, "I hadn't heard that...I'm kind of stunned. You kind of caught me off guard."

Turner, 42, has been frequenting Ben's since 1985, he said. The window tinter said he was doing a job at nearby Cardozo High School and decided to grab his usual lunch at Ben's: a simple griddled hot dog. He likes the char on it.

And with that, he turned to the counter and ordered his hot dog.

More photos from the first day at Ben's Chili Bowl without Ben Ali:

"He passed without suffering," Nizam says. "He lived a long and good life."

In terms of a memorial, Nizam says they'll probably do something private for the family, but he knows Ben's importance to the community and says they will figure out something for a public service. Ben's death wasn't completely unexpected, Nizam says. Ben had "a million things" wrong with him, Nizam says. "We're all OK."

As Y&H was discussing last week, the Ali family has no plans to open a Ben's Chili Bowl on the ground floor of the Grays on Pennsylvania, a planned condo development in the Southeast, despite a sign that implies otherwise. That's the family's prerogative, of course, but it makes you wonder: What is the future of Ben's? The Ali's must be looking to expand somewhere, right?

Expansion and franchising, after all, are what fast-casual restaurants do. Some locals, like Z-Burger in the District and Elevation Burger in Falls Church, have practically planned on franchising from the moment they drafted their business plans. Others, like Amsterdam Falafelshop, have taken a more cautious approach to spreading their brand. Five Guys, of course, has turned franchising into an art form — or at least into a license to print money.

Isn't it time for the Ali's to cash in, too?

Not so fast, says Nizam Ali. For starters, he says, Ben's is not like other fast-food restaurants in town. Its history, its legacy, and its very atmosphere separate it from the competition.

Ben's Chili Bowl oozes character, which is found not just on the walls covered with grip-and-grin celebrity snapshots. It's also found on the griddle next to the front window where blackened sausages have been glistening with grease for decades. It's found behind the white counter where employees in Chili Bowl smocks banter and bullshit daily with customers. It's found in the gurgling juice dispensers, the squeeze bottles of ketchup, the old illuminated menu above the prep station, even in the long, frustrating lines that wind around the place. Hell, it's even found on the big screen, where Ben's just got a cameo in the new State of Play thriller.

Such a place is not easy to replicate.

Besides, Ben's Chili Bowl is a family business, Nizam Ali reminds me. Some member of the Ali clan — maybe Nizam's brother Kamal or his cousin Rob — is always on premise at Ben's or at the Next Door Restaurant and Bar, Ben's young alcoholic offspring. The Ali's even send a family member to every Nats home game to ensure that Ben's good reputation doesn't follow the ball team's down the drain.

Until the family can trust someone else to operate its business, the Ali's are happy to keep it close at hand. "It's not about money," Nizam says. "If it was about money, we would have franchised five years ago — or yesterday."

The decision to expand to Nationals Park was relatively easy. No one expects the Chili Bowl experience inside the Nats' concrete playpen; fans just want a taste of D.C. while watching their hapless team serve up another District tradition — crappy baseball. Still, Ben's move to the ball yard did have its complications. Nizam and Kamal had to secure a manufacturer to produce Ben's famous chili sauce on a large scale, a situation that frankly made big daddy Ben nervous, Nizam says. Papa wasn't so sure he was ready to share recipes outside the family.

But the Pennsylvania company that now produces the chili has proven to be a loyal ally. It even helped Ben's save face last season when the Nats' former concessions operator, Centerplate, once didn't order enough sauce for a weekend series; the chili company suspected as much and, without prompting, produced extra sauce, which was ready for pick-up when the emergency call did indeed come late on a Friday afternoon, says Nizam who personally drove to Pennsylvania to fetch the 110 containers of chili.

Such calamities (barely) avoided remind the Ali's that it is not easy to trust others with your business. With a new concessions operator at Nats Park (Levy Restaurants) and a new approach to selling half-smokes at the stadium (sausages will be peddled only at official Ben's locations and carts, rather than at the generic concession stands throughout the park), the Ali family must maintain a constant watch over its baseball operations, even in this second season. That, combined with managing the still wet-behind-the-ears Next Door, leaves little room for expansion talk.

Nizam Ali, however, will cop to one budding development in the tiny Ben's empire: The family is preparing to launch a shipping business for those District refugees who can't live another day without their half-smokes.