Our initial reaction upon walking into Manory's, past the old men sitting out front, is a mixture of relief and delight. Open since 1913, this old-fashioned neighborhood eatery has stood the test of time and resisted a makeover too.

Call it a diner or greasy cafe, Manory's has long been famed for its big egg sandwich and sorting out hangovers with a gut-busting breakfast. It's rightly proud of its largely unaltered interior in shades of brown, from the beige banquette booths to a huge brown sign announcing itself as "Troy's oldest restaurant."

Go now and you'll smash every well-intentioned resolution of the New Year with ice-cream sundaes, fried wings, fried chicken with thin maple syrup, fried eggs and home fries with stiff bacon. For an extra $2, you can raise the caloric stakes on your plate with a side of sweet potato fries.

Old men and international students sit at the cube-shaped counter as short-order cooks sizzle burgers and press waffles in back. Young men in tight black T-shirts work every station, slinging coffee, delivering plates and blending Manory's milkshakes in student-inspired flavors from Fruity Pebbles to Oreo-topped cookies-n-cream.

And that's a first we can't unsee. No, not the Fruity Pebbles cereal — also available as confetti-colored waffles and pancakes — but the all-male crew. Instead of a matronly Doris calling us "hon" and tucking her notepad in an apron pocket, we're served each visit by young men who stroll between tables in some clunky diner-version of the all-male "Swan Lake." There is, if memory serves me right, one waitress behind the espresso bar. The rest of the lineup has frat-boy youth on their side. And given the percentage of Troy students dining in (plus the student apartments upstairs), it comes as no surprise.

But the gents turn out to be Anthony Marchese, son of former owners Lou and Jen Marchese, plus Brendan Jones, Jack Engster and Connor McGrath, who took over the business last July and have been a constant and productive presence installing new floors, an espresso bar, Stacks nitro-brewed coffee on tap and draft lines for future beer. Two more friends, Isaiah Evans and Andrew Clements, join them on the short-order griddle.

More Information Manory's 99 Congress St., Troy Phone: 518-272-2422 Web: facebook.com/Manorys-141860381022 Hours: 7 a.m. to 11 p.m. daily. Price: Inexpensive. Breakfast, lunch & dinner: $5 to $14. (Student specials with ID.) Food: Casual, American diner comfort food specializing in all-day breakfast, shakes, sundaes, nachos, sandwiches, burgers. Try "The Elvis." Drink: Espresso drinks, $4.50 to $6; floats, $4; milkshakes, $4.50; build-your-own ice cream sundaes start at $2 per scoop. Draft beer and cocktails coming soon. Ambiance: Old-school corner diner serving Troy for 105 years. Noise: Usually 1 to 2. Can be noisier during peak lunch rush. Good for: Breakfast, brunch, lunch, casual dinner, counter dining, takeout, families, small groups, students, study space. Noise rating: 1- quiet; 2 - comfortable/conversational; 3 - loud; 4 - disruptive. Price range: Inexpensive, Moderate, Somewhat Expensive, Very Expensive See More Collapse

The four owners have tapped into Troy's revival by expanding hours to 11 p.m. and applying for a liquor license. In a sea of juice bars and $2,000-a-month downtown apartments (like the fully rented News Apartments two blocks away), they are betting on all-day breakfasts, Black Pearl espresso roasted in Albany, grown-up affogatos and milkshakes in enough flavors to rival a 1950s milk bar. Under new management, Manory's has only polished up its old-school appeal.

The menu itself is largely unchanged — that is, challenging for the heart and soft on the wallet. In "The Elvis," bacon pieces and bananas are cooked into a stack of pancakes covered with warm peanut butter, drizzled jelly and sugar; Lumberjack pancakes studded with diced sausages are smothered in Southern white sausage gravy; Manory's infamous nine-egg Trojan omelette is stuffed with sausage, peppers, onions and three types of melted cheese before a few ladles of colloidal white gravy. Arteries may harden just reading the list.

And yet even as our eyes widen at plates with fries and sides of fries, we're charmed. Operating in its own parallel universe, Manory's is an old-time rejection of diets and fads. Whether anyone ought to eat here regularly is a legitimate concern, though eggs Florentine come closest to healthy, with poached eggs, wilted spinach and a homemade Hollandaise sauce. That's before a side of hash browns deep-fried to bronze bullets, and promised fresh fruit that never appears.

Those eating in are either too young or too old to care about waists. Waffles are 2 inches thick, fluffy and gold, served sweet as the strawberry-topped Bavarian under a tankful of Reddi-Wip, and savory under craggy fried chicken and — yep — Southern gravy. Happy families fill booths, elderly couples smile between crumbly bites; at peak times the line snakes out the door.

Here's a quick rundown of things you can do: Deep dive for jalapenos in the 5-hour pulled-pork deep-fried nachos with plastic cups of premade guac and sour cream on the side; gnaw chicken wings stained Day-Glo orange in the buttery hot sauce of your nocturnal college years; go commando with a fried egg or mozzarella sticks on your stiff-edged, well-done burger; and time the cherry slowly capsizing the whipped cream on your cinnamon toast sundae.

With a liquor license in hand more could change, but the idea of a Bloody Mary or Bellini with breakfast or a pint with your burger seems long overdue, and important to the resolution of a hangover. Though carrots and celery accompanying wings are the only raw food we see, the new owners continue to exclusively use local Dzembo Dairies for milk and ice cream, and Bella Napoli bakery for burger buns and baked goods. Their expansion into evening hours puts triple-decker club sandwiches and grilled cheese (buttered on both sides) within post-cocktail reach. Wrapped for takeout, a corned beef Reuben on rye calls my name all the way home.

Sure, there are salads of the iceberg and peaky tomato variety, but they sort of miss the establishment's all-day-breakfast ideal. When not grilling and buttering muffins, staff turns apple cider donuts and grilled cinnamon rolls into fluffy French toast, some stuffed with ice cream. Root beer floats lustily overflow; thick ice cream shakes risk bursting capillaries as patrons suck hard on straws; nitrogen-infused cold brew titillates post-millennials; pending beer and cocktails may usher in a new nighttime scene.

Built on quick service and breakfast glory, Manory's is an institution. Doughnut French toast? Gravy-sopped waffles? Kids-cereal milkshakes? Check. Is it good? That's a judgment call. What's not good for the body may be good for the soul.

Dinner for four with plates, shakes, and fries costs $100, with 20 percent tip. A breakfast sandwich and latte to go is $15 with a $2 tip.

Susie Davidson Powell is a British freelance food writer in upstate New York. Follow her on Twitter, @SusieDP. To comment on this review, visit the Table Hopping blog, blog.timesunion.com/tablehopping.