In a market where 75 percent of restaurants fail in their first year, an establishment going strong for half a century must be doing something right.

That’s right. This month, the Dog Team Tavern in Middlebury celebrates its 50th anniversary by cutting prices about 15 years, while retaining the little extras that have kept the Williamson clan coming back ince the 1950s.

On Sunday evening, Eleanor Williamson of Bristol celebrated her 82nd birthday there. She was accompanied by her five sons, who learned company manners around the Dog Team’s polished drop-leaf tables.

Mark Williamson of Charlotte, for example, remembers spinning the relish wheel, which still contains horseradishy cottage cheese, pickled beets and a unique sweet sauerkraut.

‘‘Hey, we come back because they’ve got a good location and plenty of free parking,’’ jokes eldest son Jack Williamson, of Charlotte.

Add to that a complete roast pork, pot roast, rainbow trout, fried chicken, McKenzie ham meal, salmon, jumbo shrimp, sea scallops, N.Y. sirloin, roast beef - and you can expect a stampede.

But it’s a congenial family crowd waiting in the Dog Team living room, cluttered with memorabilia.

The Dog Team Tavern was established by Dr. Wilfred Grenfell, a British physician/philanthropist who worked among native peoples of Canada. Grenfell retired to Vermont, setting up the tavern with proceeds to benefit his projects. The Dog Team’s walls display needlepoint tapestries depicting Eskimo scenes; similar works, produced by Canada’s Grenfell Industries, have been featured by the American Folk Art Museum in New York City.

Other furnishings - ceramics, figurines, a shell collection imbedded in a coffee table, and antique farm and kitchen implements - complete the totally non-commercial hodgepodge.

Chris Hesslink and Robert Mahoney are only the Dog Team’s third owners. Mahoney remembers eating there with his parents and eight siblings when they visited relatives in Middlebury. ‘‘We haven’t changed the basic systems,’’ he says. ‘‘Chris and I feel more like curators than entrepreneurs.’’

The system (now computer-assisted) works amazingly well. Reservations aren’t accepted, except for big parties. Diners order when they enter; appetizers and warm anadama bread are on the table when they are called. The relish wheel arrives soon after, then a big wooden salad bowl for the table, with three scrumptious homemade dressings.

Then, the main course, with mashed potatoes and fresh vegetable served family style by a collegiate-type waitstaff.

‘‘We keep preparations and presentation simple,’’ Mahoney says.

‘‘No technical stuff,’’ Hesslink adds, meaning spicy sauces or garnishes.

That’s confidence, considering how some restaurants use ‘‘technical stuff’’ to mask mediocre ingredients.

Here, only good stuff makes the right stuff. Desserts, condiments and breads are done in-house. Cucumbers without a trace of bitterness. Ultra-fresh seafood. Hand-cut steaks. Interesting wines by the glass, and house-brand maple pepper on the table.

Plus those wicked sticky buns. ‘‘We take ours home,’’ says Jean Harrington of Burlington, a customer for 40 years. ‘‘You can’t eat it all.’’

Do the right thing. Serve the right stuff. Charge the good price. Because when all is said and done, the one with the most sticky buns, wins.