billbeuttler.com

Hot dogs and ice cream sell, he said -- and they do

By Bill Beuttler, Globe Correspondent, 1/29/2003

SWAMPSCOTT - There are two pieces of advice about making it in business that Mark Scaglione says his late father passed along to him. One: ''If you give someone the best quality product for the best price, you can't lose.'' The other: ''You can't go wrong selling hot dogs and ice cream.''

For the past month, Scaglione, 49, has been putting his father's theories to the test at Popo's Hot Dogs, much to the delight of local frankfurter aficionados.

Popo's is anything but run-of-the-mill. The menu offers a choice of 10 specialty recipes, themed mostly by region, among them delicious versions of Chicago- and New York-style red hots. If none of those suit you, you can have anything you want from Popo's long list of fresh condiments, and put them on a ''Frank Sinatra.'' (''That's right,'' it says on the menu, ''you do it your way.'')

So far, so good. Even in the dead of a snowy winter, Scaglione's father's formula has been paying off. Mark Scaglione says he has sold as many as 350 hot dogs in a day, many to repeat customers, since he opened his narrow storefront the Friday before Christmas.

Occasionally, he says, folks have liked what they've tasted so much that they've returned for more.

''People get a dog, take a bite, and have to turn around and get in line again,'' he says.

On price, too, Popo's range of $1.85, for the basic steamed or grilled hot dog with no-frills toppings, to that $3.25 Sinatra special, seems to have hit the spot, even in this frugal North Shore town. ''I've had people tell me my prices are too low,'' Scaglione says.

How Popo's came to be is more unusual still, a tale of apparent disaster blossoming into what now seems like serendipitous good fortune. Scaglione's brother, Larry, was selling his three-story building when, on Jan. 23 of last year, outdated knob-and-tube wiring inside its walls set the building ablaze. Burned beyond repair, the building was razed, but Larry had it rebuilt to look exactly as it had when it first was built in 1881.

Mark, meanwhile, had been looking for a new line of work. After having helped out briefly at his father's furniture store in downtown Boston, the Nahant native spent more than three decades as a lobsterman.

It was a good living early on, but new regulations trimmed his daily catch from a peak of 1,000 pounds to 200 pounds a day in recent years. When his brother offered him the chance to run a storefront in the rebuilt building, he seized it.

Initially Mark considered turning the 8- by 20-foot space into a newsstand. Then he remembered his father's advice about hot dogs and ice cream.

Scaglione's family has contributed significantly to the launch. His father supplied both the restaurant's name (his children and grandchildren all called him Popo) and its secret baked-bean recipe. His brother and a friend, Joe Garuti of Chef Joe's Catering, tracked down dozens of regional hot dog recipes. Mark's wife, Joan, helps out behind the counter, and a daughter will be joining them soon.

Scaglione, working with Garuti, personally sampled 50 locally available hot dog brands and 150 varieties of hot dog recipes. Scaglione now shows up early each morning to chop and prep the day's supply of onions, tomatoes, and other condiments.

And he is still experimenting with hot dog recipes. The other day, he offered a special dog featuring baked beans and sautéed onions. His reason? Customers had been gobbling down hot dogs and ignoring his side dishes, and he wanted to try and rectify that. ''People weren't getting a taste of the beans,'' he says with a sigh.

Frankly, some of Popo's regional specialties seem slightly off-kilter. Thus, a Chicagoan could wonder what green pepper, chopped celery, shredded lettuce, red relish (rather than bright green), and Grey Poupon are doing taking the place of the traditional dill pickle, sport peppers, yellow mustard, and all-essential celery salt that, with chopped onion and tomato wedges, are the mainstays of a real Chicago hot dog.

And New Yorkers might be puzzled by the addition of celery salt to their namesake dog.

A Texan could be be surprised to have the Lone Star State represented by something other than the corn dog.

And that's not to mention Popo's use of New England-style hot dog rolls for all of its offerings.

No matter. Scaglione says he and Garuti allowed themselves the freedom to choose ingredients. So far, the Texas Dog (chili, cheese sauce, sautéed onions, bacon, and jalapeño peppers) is his top seller, followed by the Arizona Dog (roasted peppers, chopped red onions, and jalapeños).

His quirkier standbys include a Thai Dog (Popo's secret peanut sauce and sautéed onions) and a Reuben Dog (sauerkraut, shredded Swiss cheese, and Russian dressing). In all cases, the rolls are buttered and grilled unless the customer specifies otherwise. The customer chooses from two styles of hot dog (kosher or natural casing), and from two ways of cooking, steamed or grilled. Whatever garnishes a dog at Popo's goes on in abundance. ''I'm Italian,'' Scaglione says. ''I don't skimp on the condiments.''

Whether it's the middle-school student bragging to a buddy about how he's going to order a Sinatra ''with everything'' or the man who once showed up with a special Texas brand of garlic-laden, quarter-pound dog that he hoped to talk Scaglione into carrying, customers tend to be passionate about their favorite dogs. ''Anyone from 1 to 90 loves to talk about treasure,'' says Scaglione, who salvaged some of the real stuff in his seafaring days. ''It's the same way with hot dogs.''

Ice cream, of course (that was part of the father's advice), is on the menu in the form of Cool Dogs: sausage-shaped servings of vanilla ice cream on buns made of shortcake, topped with chocolate syrup (which freezes to the Cool Dog, preventing dripping) and a choice of assorted cone toppings. Come summer, Scaglione will dip into his past life and begin offering lobster rolls, which he'll call ''Sea Dogs.''

Popo would have been delighted with the place, Scaglione says. ''He's up there with God looking down with a big smile.''

Popo's Hot Dogs, 168 Humphrey St.,Swampscott .781-592-9992.

This story ran on page E1 of the Boston Globe on 1/29/2003.
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