Trips to the concessions stand are part of the baseball experience — central to it, for some of us. At the Arcata Ball Park, the tab is surprisingly inexpensive, with food items topping out at $9, a pittance compared to big stadiums. This leaves you with a little extra to earn a “Tip, tip, hooray!” from the staff. (They’re too busy to dwell on a missed tip, but trust that everyone behind you will notice the silence.) We’ve also got a strong lineup on the whiteboard menu. Pro tip: Extra cheese — nacho or shredded — on the side or atop whatever you’re having is available for a small charge. As for other customizations, concessions manager Genie Dickinson says, “You talk to one of us and we will make it happen.” Here are our top picks for dining around the diamond.
8. Veggie dog ($6). A split and fried herby Impossible dog on a white bun, it’s fine. It’s a veggie dog. Unadorned, it is a bit of an also-ran but the animals you’re sparing by keeping it vegetarian would want you to be happy. Hit the toppings bar and take this thing to Chicago with tomatoes and pickles. Get a side order of chopped onions, some shredded cheese and pickled jalapeño slices. Then eat some of your neighbor’s nachos.
7. Nachos ($6). Ah, snack shack nachos. The paper boat strains under a pile of salty, circular tortilla chips, a variety found only at parks and movie theaters, doused in canned Ortega nacho cheese and crowned with pickled jalapeño slices. Don’t scoff at canned nacho cheese: It’s the gold standard for staying hot and un-separated for the trip back to the stands, and it maintains dip-ability even during a breezy night game. It’s also your best bet for sharing because your friend with the veggie dog is definitely reaching over.
6. Cheeseburger ($9). Here we have a straightforward, ½-inch-thick patty cooked on a flat-top grill, topped with American cheese and actually centered on a white bun. Curly Greenleaf lettuce, sliced tomatoes, ketchup, mayo and mustard are all at your disposal. It’s basic but solid, a ballpark bargain and a gamer.
5. Burrito ($6). Pre-rolls from Patino’s Mexican Food, these aren’t quite as marvelous as the made-to-order you’ll get lining up at the truck (those are delightful, treat yourself sometime), but with scratch-made beans and rice, the beef, chicken and pork options far surpass the usual grab-and-go variety. Don’t forget to ask for salsa on the side.
4. Chocolate chip cookie ($2). The candy calls but consider letting your sweet tooth chomp on this oversized cookie made by Cal Poly Humboldt’s dining services. It’s perfectly browned, crispy-chewy and chip heavy, buttery with a hint of salt. This is the kind of cookie that launched a thousand Little Leaguers — simple, classic and utterly wholesome.
3. Hot dog ($5). The foil-wrapped ¼-pound Nathan’s beef dog hits the spot for traditionalists. There’s no relish or kraut, if that’s a dealbreaker for you, but it is the unfussy original, coming in hot. And friends, in the open, accepting atmosphere of Arcata, nobody will judge you for putting ketchup on it. Unless you’re with the visiting team — in which case, expect brutal heckling.
2. Pie ($6). Not every ballpark has pie. The home of the Crabs, however, is blessed with selections from Slice of Humboldt Pie. It may be unconventional, but the wedge of Peach-Berry Crumble, with its purple-to-orange ombre, cinnamon crumb topping and thick, lightly salty bottom crust is perfect for a summer sunset at the game. Depending how the game is going, Chocolate Silk might be the dessert to feed your feelings. Check the whiteboard for daily options and keep in mind the shop is mere blocks away at 660 K St. if you need more pie later to celebrate victory or wallow in Mudville.
1. Chili dog ($7). Is this technically better than the pie? No. It is, however, the best thing to eat at the ballpark. Because somewhere under that ladle’s worth of canned chili (connoisseurs may wish to inquire as to whether tonight’s offering is Stagg), shredded cheese and chopped onion is that same hefty Nathan’s hot dog — impossible to eat with decorum and unlikely to stay off your shirt. Friend, you are not at a table, bound to the strictures of etiquette. You are not even hunched over your sad desk lunch. You are at a ballgame, with everyone’s attention on the drama unfolding on the field. Here, amid the raucous music of the World Famous Crab Grass Band, the wild cheers and the lawless hecklers, the chili dog bids you to follow its messy example: Return to your primal, napkin-crumpling self and become ungovernable.
Jennifer Fumiko Cahill (she/her) is the arts and features editor at the Journal. Reach her at (707) 442-1400, or jennifer@northcoastjournal.com. Follow her on Bluesky @jfumikocahill.bsky.social.
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This article appears in Humboldt Crabs Baseball.
