Famous Lunch Lives up to its Name

What do the institutions of gambling, higher education, electricity and mini hot dogs from Troy have in common? They are all recession-proof.

My family and I take hot dogs seriously. The World Health Organization would not be pleased to learn of the volume of hot dogs consumed in our home, especially in the balmier months. No summer day is too crowded with activities or too steaming hot to prevent a detour to a hot dog stand spied speeding from Point A to B.

The devotion to hot dogs goes beyond their mere consumption; you might say that I am invested in the culture of hot dogs, considering it, as I do, America’s version of charcuterie. When I travel, I explore regional specialties. (Shout out to Kansas City with the sauerkraut, melted Swiss and sesame seed bun; cheers to the Sonoran dog, wrapped in bacon and piled with pinto beans, grilled onions, green peppers, chopped tomatoes, relish, salsa, mayo, mustard and shredded cheese). I have personally attended multiple hot dog eating contests to cheer on fellow enthusiasts, including the famed Coney Island July 4thextravaganza. As a working mother and lover of things delicious and easy—but also at least nominally healthy!—I have become a connoisseur of the locally sourced processed meat providers in the Capital District.

But let’s not get crazy: the degree of seriousness with which I enjoy the humble hot dog does not approach that of the family behind Troy’s Famous Lunch.

“Times have changed, but the hot dogs haven’t,” intones Scott Vasil, the third generation of Vasils running the lovingly tended greasy spoon at 111 Congress Street.

In 1932, when Vasil’s uncle opened the doors to what was then Quick Lunch, milk was 44 cents a gallon, gas cost 10 cents, a new car ran you $500, and the average family income was $1,500 a year.

“My grandmother’s brother was the original owner,” Vasil explains. “He came over from Greece. Everyone in the family pitched in. It has always been a family business in every sense of the word. My father and his brother took over in 1961, then I took over in 1995.”

The premise of the joint was simple: Serve up affordable, tasty 3-inch pork-beef hot dogs made in town by Helmbolds, throw it in a hand-kneaded and proofed dough bun from Bella Napoli and add some zip.

Zip?

“Zippy sauce,” Vasil says. “It’s basically ground-up beef, garlic and onions cooked chili-style without beans, plus mustard. The whole idea was to serve a classic German frankfurter.”

The main draw at Famous Lunch is the dog, but their rice pudding should not be overlooked.

“It’s a family recipe from Greece, and people go crazy for it,” Vasil admits. “Hardcore hot dog fans love our omelet with hot dogs, too, and of course we also have other things, like breakfast sandwiches, zippy cheeseburgers and chicken sandwiches.”

Vasil started working at his dad’s elbow when he was 14, and his own daughter, Melina, began working at Famous when she was 14.

“She’s a senior in college now, but I have a feeling that she’ll be the fourth-generation owner,” Vasil says. “Not that I’m ready to retire! I formally took over in 1995 after my father had worked there for 50 years. It’s a labor of love, and not something that everyone in our family is interested in getting involved, but for the people who do enjoy it, it’s the best.”

Indeed, the conviviality and genuine delight that many owners try— and fail—to imbue their eateries with is palpable at Famous Lunch. The service is fast, efficient and friendly, and judging from the rapport between customers and the staff, many of the guests are regulars.

Very few things have changed over the generations about Famous—from its bright-red counter facing the action-packed hibachi-style grill station from red spinny stools, the cozy booths lining the opposite wall or grab-bag bin of canned sodas by the door—except the name.

In 1958, a local marine named Corporal Gordon Gundrum was stationed in Moscow, but he really missed the flavor of home. Somehow through a feat of culinary string-pulling wizardry, the 20-yearold managed to have several dozen hot dogs flown into the embassy by KLM, Royal Dutch Airlines, and they were served for lunch that day to Gundrum and the U.S. Ambassador Charles “Chip” Eustis Bohlen at his 54th birthday fête. Operation Hot Dogs, as it was dubbed, made headlines across the country, prompting the name change. (Desperados in need of a zip fix can now place orders for dogs, which will be delivered anywhere in the world that FedEx goes).