It seems like only yesterday that we arrived in Pitman. Actually it was 13 days, but whose counting? Bidding a fond farewell to the homefolks, we were off to the big smoke.
I’m not kidding either, because this is right outside Madison Square Garden, and nothing in my limited experience is bigger and smokier than New York. Of the places I’ve been, Shanghai probably comes the closest in terms of overpowering size and potential to intimidate, but it’s still not New York. The City of Angels. Or something.
I still don’t know if someone was just overcome by exhaust fumes or if eating street food was one of the quintessential New York experiences on our loose itinerary. This was pretty much the first food truck we saw when we left the hotel, bound for the Statue of Liberty (I ain’t kiddin’.).
And I don’t know how much it matters, but this is quite a decent food truck. These halal places seem to be a chain; we kept seeing picture menus that looked an awful lot like the one on the end of this truck. I suppose it works like it does for gas stations – “My uncle Ahmed used to drive a camel, now he drives a food truck and makes camel burritos.”
Well, with that gratuitously racist half-assed joke flowing rapidly under the bridge and off into the sunset, let’s away.
And let’s half a sausage sandwich. Did I mean ‘halve’? No splitting occurred here. It was pretty tasty, although more like an average hot dog than any kind of ethnically-driven sausage.
I also love the questions that the chef asks while making them – “Chili sauce? White sauce?”
I got chili sauce and white sauce on my falafel, thank you. I miss a good falafel, and the one I especially mix is from Max’s Kosher in Wheaton, Maryland. This sorta hit the spot, a little, although without the topping bar at Max’s (preserved lemons?! Shut up!) it felt a bit anemic.
Y’know why they call it falafel? Because it makes you feel awful!