Column: You want a universal truth? Then you want a hot dog, at Fashion Island

What do Lululemon and hot dogs have in common?

Dean Lindsay.

His hot dog stand faces the Lululemon store in Fashion Island in Newport Beach. For 26 years, he’s sold hot dogs at the high-end shopping center — long before $100 tights were even a thing.

It’s not uncommon for lithe exercise buffs to make a beeline from the store to Lindsay’s humble stand, simply called “Gourmet Hot Dogs.”

As they eye the long hot dog menu, shifting their weight from one running shoe to the other, do they order the tofu dog?

Rarely.

They get the jumbo beef frank with all the trimmings — but with a Diet Coke. Always a Diet Coke.

“You can only eat so much kale,” Lindsay said, cracking a thin smile. “You’ve got to have something that sticks to your ribs once in a while.”

Lindsay has that dry, everyman demeanor where he gauges his audience and adjusts accordingly.

Hungry and grumpy? He stays quiet and serves quickly.

Lingering like a puppy? He offers conversation.

With salt-and-pepper hair and a comfortable pace, the 50-something-year-old Lindsay is approachable yet professional in his work.

He shakes and holds the sauerkraut just long enough to drain the water. You don’t want to make the bun mushy.

He doesn’t assume a person’s condiments, but he’s quick to make recommendations. He would never just say, “It’s up to you.”

That’s not the hot dog way.

While there is tradition — a Vienna dog, a New York dog, a Polish sausage — this is the West Coast. So there’s the Island dog, which includes pineapple mango relish and New York mustard.

There’s a Fiesta dog that has red pepper relish, jalapenos, onions, Sriracha, red pepper flakes and crushed nacho cheese Doritos.

Among other options, there also is a Thai dog that has Thai sweet chili sauce, New York mustard and onions. For a complete list, visit gourmet-hotdogs.com.

A longtime resident of Laguna Beach, Lindsay started out as a contractor but a recession hit, and with a wife and two kids, he decided to get out of the cyclical construction business.

He never looked back.

His only concern now is the general health of shopping malls. If they don’t do well, he doesn’t do well.

“The biggest problem is the internet and retail,” he said. “People aren’t coming to the malls anymore.”

At the outdoor Fashion Island, which is owned by the Irvine Company, foot traffic can vary considerably because of the weather.

“The general rule of thumb is we’re going to be busy if it’s warm,” he said. “If it’s under 60 degrees, we’re not going to be busy. You can just fold up shop.”

His stand is located just to the side of Macy’s at a heavily used junction of three walkways. It’s been a good location for him, and he has a peek-a-boo view of the ocean.

Most of his dogs cost about $5, plus or minus, and he knows Costco only charges $1.50, but when people try to remind him of that, he has a response.

“At least when you get a hot dog here, you have an ocean view instead of a parking lot,” he said.

Clearly, Fashion Island is no Costco. And that’s fine.

“It’s the best value in the mall,” he said. “You get served right away. It’s very consistent, and it’s a good product. It’s comfort food.”

Nowadays for Lindsay, his joy comes from the people, especially children, who still say that hot dogs are their favorite food.

He has a window into the world. From 11 a.m. to 6 pm. every day — or as he likes to say, “Monday to Sunday” — he watches and serves.

“We get such a cross-section of humanity,” he said. “It’s great.”

He gives people immediate gratification from all walks of life. There is no hot dog demographic. There is no special ZIP Code.

Hot dogs remain a universal truth, regardless of dogma.

DAVID HANSEN is a writer and Laguna Beach resident. He can be reached at hansen.dave@gmail.com.