Philadelphia, 1776— our founders once wrote, “all men are created equal.”
The same, however, cannot be said of cheesesteaks.
Every local knows this to be true. Many Philly natives will swear by long-standing cheesesteak joints such as Abner’s or Pat’s, but the true hero of the cheesesteak can be found right on Penn’s campus. Without fail, every Monday through Friday, he’s outside DRL— slinging slamming sandwiches on his hot griddle in an old, faded food truck.
So who is the man behind the cheesesteaks?
His name is Vascillios, though “my friends call me Billy,” he explains. The food truck is named “Frita's," after his mother.
Located outside DRL, nearly every Penn student has frequented the truck, whether right before a 9 a.m. calc lecture, or after a workout in Fox. The food truck is small—barely big enough to fit Billy and his father, who often helps man the cart. Billy, an outgoing, middle-aged man, exudes enthusiasm— smiling and laughing, he makes conversation with you about the Phillies, the Eagles, or even "The Bachelorette."
Billy’s story— one of hard work, dedication, and perhaps most important, strong familial ties—pervades everything he does. At the age of 6, his family left Seta, Greece and relocated to Philadelphia, seeking better economic opportunity. As soon as the family was settled, they bought three food trucks and promptly began selling food. Billy explains that “I’ve been in the food business since I was 10 years old. My mother started vending from this location in 1977. In fact, some of the professors who still do research in DRL recognize me from when I was just a little kid.”
Being a food truck owner, Billy admits that he is his “own boss, but with that comes so much labor.” Apart from making executive decisions like pricing, location, menu, etc., Billy runs his business solo. Though he describes himself as a “short order cook,” making sandwiches that travel from the grill to your mouth in a matter of minutes, the preparation begins much farther in advance. The creation of the final product starts in the early hours of the morning. Billy describes his daily routine, detailing the grueling demands of the food truck business — “I get up at 5:00 in the morning, and my dad gets up even earlier than that. He goes and picks up the rolls from the supplier, and I pick up the eggs, and we go to the commissary (which is like our home base, essentially a mini restaurant) and we prepare everything there — the bacon, the meat, muffins and pretzels, anything we’ll need for the day.”
Billy speaks about the toll of working in such a demanding business. Physically, his work is draining. Besides having to spend an entire day on his feet, in what can only be described as a cramped metal sweatbox, Billy has to do all the grunt work himself: “It’s a good business, you know, but it’s very exhausting. The amount of hours you have to put in — it’s nonstop; I don’t have anyone who works for me. It’s me and my dad, and sometimes my son.”
But, perhaps even more taxing, Billy elaborates on the emotional trials of his line of work. When he graduated college, he married his high school sweetheart, and the couple was expecting their first child. With the added economic stress of raising a child, he began working longer hours at the truck — “Working 80 hours a week,” he admits, “I was never home, and that’s why my marriage fell through with my ex-wife.” His divorce was one the hardest things he has experienced, both for himself and for his family; “For me, I love my kids more than life, and I feel bad that they had to grow up in a broken family because I never had that question of if my mom and dad are going to be together.”
But for Billy, all the hard work is worth it. At the end of the day, he wants to make his family proud. Billy feels a tremendous sense of gratitude towards his parents, and wants to do for his children, what his parents did for him: “The reason I’m so outgoing and positive and spiritual, and you know honest and decent, is because of my mother and my father. They are my foundation, my backbone, and have shaped me into the man I am today.”
Likewise, Billy derives a deep sense of satisfaction from making his customers happy. One of the most notable things about "Frita's" is Billy himself; walking up to the stand, it is impossible to not be impacted by his infectious energy. He radiates positivity and has a genuine interest in how your day is going. On his relationship with his customers, he says, “I want my customers to be happy. They’re not just my customers, they’re my friends… When you get a sandwich from me, you’re getting a piece of my soul.”
For Billy, these aren’t just empty words. One of his regulars, Mikey, approached the stand and struck up a conversation with Billy about the hockey game the two had attended the other night. Billy said that he and Mikey got close when Mikey started frequenting his truck.
Moreover, Billy’s bond with the customers doesn’t just go one way. Billy dug through his car and pulled out a birthday card he had received from two of his customers just a few days prior. Smiling, he read the hand-written message aloud, admitting that he was genuinely moved by the gesture: “I really don’t think I touch people the way I do, but it’s a blessing from God to know what I do.”
So if you’re craving a cheesesteak, feel free to stop by any of the food trucks in Philly. But if you’re craving a little food for your soul, a pick-me-up, or a reason to smile, then stop by “Frita’s.” Everything Billy does— from the moment you enter the queue to the moment you leave— is done with heart. He goes the extra mile to make things right, and to do them they way they ought to be done. It’s no secret why his cheesesteaks are so good: because for him, numbers and figures aren’t important, but rather, when he hands you your sandwich, he hopes he’s making your day a little better. “I try to do good,” Billy says, “I go by that motto. Even when somebody does bad to you, return it with good and I guarantee you, you’ll get the best outcome in that situation.”
