Introduction to Papaya Dogs, Part I
Most lovers of great, cheap eats in New York are big fans of two chains: Papaya King and Gray’s Papaya. Both sell hot dogs and tropical fruit juices. Sounds gross, tastes divine.
Papaya King is the original. It’s been around since 1923 and was founded by a young Greek immigrant named Gus Poulos. Gus owned a deli, and after a vacation in Florida he returned with the bright idea to sell fruit juices at his deli. The idea went off well, and Gus opened a few other fruit juice shops. Gus added hot dogs a number of years later to draw in Polish and German immigrants. And that’s how hot dogs met papaya juice.
Papaya Kings are fairly clean inside, with lots of garish signs and decorations in tropical colors. The hot dogs have a great snap and are assembled quickly, but with grace and care. I prefer them with kraut, onion sauce, and spicy mustard. Papaya King—like most other NYC hot dog purveyors—grills their dogs, though they are more accurately griddles, as they sizzle on flat top griddles, not grills. This griddling gives them even more snap. Papaya King franks are supposed to have a special secret spice that no other franks in the country have. I’m not sure what that spice is, but I do know the dogs have natural casing (as do all decent and respectable NYC franks).
Though it may sound goofy at best and repulsive at worst, the papaya/hot dog combo is a marvel of flavor and texture. There’s the salty, greasy frank, with its pungent toppings of kraut and mustard. Then there’s the silky, sweet-tart papaya juice, which helps to cut the grease and salt. It’s a perfect match. Other tropical fruit juices are available at Papaya King, but I ask: why bother, when papaya and frankfurter are so well-suited for each other and work so well as a team? One must alternate bits of hot dog with sips of papaya juice in order to get the full effect.
The papaya juice at Papaya King is supposed to be 100% juice, freshly squeezed. I’m not so sure—it seems to lack the umph of fresh-squeezed juice, but I’ve never had papaya juice otherwise, so what do I know? What is odd is my usual dislike of papaya in its solid form: I think it stinks like baby poo. But if it’s in liquid form with a hot dog, I’m a fan.
Next post, we will examine Papaya King’s cheaper knockoff and rival, Gray’s Papaya.
Papaya King is the original. It’s been around since 1923 and was founded by a young Greek immigrant named Gus Poulos. Gus owned a deli, and after a vacation in Florida he returned with the bright idea to sell fruit juices at his deli. The idea went off well, and Gus opened a few other fruit juice shops. Gus added hot dogs a number of years later to draw in Polish and German immigrants. And that’s how hot dogs met papaya juice.
Papaya Kings are fairly clean inside, with lots of garish signs and decorations in tropical colors. The hot dogs have a great snap and are assembled quickly, but with grace and care. I prefer them with kraut, onion sauce, and spicy mustard. Papaya King—like most other NYC hot dog purveyors—grills their dogs, though they are more accurately griddles, as they sizzle on flat top griddles, not grills. This griddling gives them even more snap. Papaya King franks are supposed to have a special secret spice that no other franks in the country have. I’m not sure what that spice is, but I do know the dogs have natural casing (as do all decent and respectable NYC franks).
Though it may sound goofy at best and repulsive at worst, the papaya/hot dog combo is a marvel of flavor and texture. There’s the salty, greasy frank, with its pungent toppings of kraut and mustard. Then there’s the silky, sweet-tart papaya juice, which helps to cut the grease and salt. It’s a perfect match. Other tropical fruit juices are available at Papaya King, but I ask: why bother, when papaya and frankfurter are so well-suited for each other and work so well as a team? One must alternate bits of hot dog with sips of papaya juice in order to get the full effect.
The papaya juice at Papaya King is supposed to be 100% juice, freshly squeezed. I’m not so sure—it seems to lack the umph of fresh-squeezed juice, but I’ve never had papaya juice otherwise, so what do I know? What is odd is my usual dislike of papaya in its solid form: I think it stinks like baby poo. But if it’s in liquid form with a hot dog, I’m a fan.
Next post, we will examine Papaya King’s cheaper knockoff and rival, Gray’s Papaya.
posted by Lefty at 11:34 AM
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