After walking around looking at the ice sculptures in the Zen garden Friday night, I decided to get something to eat. There was a lot going on – a huge crowd had gathered around the Arts District for the Tree lighting ceremony. To feed these hungry horde, a line of food trucks were ready and rarin’ to go.
Mae West said, “When given the choice between two evils, I’ll pick the one I’ve never tried before.” I have the same philosophy on Food Trucks… I’ll pick one I’ve never tried before. Jack’s Chowhound it was.
There were lines at the trucks, and I stood there, trying to decide on an order. One problem waiting late to eat at a truck, is that they will start running out of stuff – they had all been serving since before lunch and only so much inventory will fit in a truck.
I was thinking about ordering a grilled cheese with tomato soup, but was a little bit worried about how to eat the soup, when the guy in front of me ordered “Steak Frites.” I had no idea what that was, but it sounded cool, so I said the same thing when it was my turn.
This was a mistake, because the guy in front of me stole my Steak Frites when he picked his up, and I had to wait for another order.
Steak Frites are French Fries with chunks of steak on them. Pretty good if you like that sort of thing, but I think next time I see Jack’s Chowhound I’ll go for the grilled cheese. I’m just not that big of a steak fan.
One of the sometimes difficulties with a gourmet food truck is finding a decent place to eat. Here, they had provided a small sea of stand-up tables with candles on them and I managed to snag one in the crowd.
As I was finishing, a couple walked up and the blonde woman asked if she could share a bit of my table.
“Of course,” I said, “I’m done really, anyway.”
I thought maybe they were going to eat, but she gave a murderous stink-eye glare at her man and started grabbing shit out of her purse and whacking it down onto the table with obvious aggravation. I really wanted to stick around and find out what the argument was about (I would guess they had lost something and the guy had asked one too many times, “Are you sure it isn’t in your purse?”) but since I didn’t have any food left, it was a little awkward to simply stand there and stare at this woman having a temper tantrum, so I turned and walked away.
After the Christmas festivities wound down and I was disgusted by the drunken revelers trodding all over the artwork, I hoofed it back to my train. Along a fairly dark and isolated stretch of street I walked past some guy and his wife and toddler. They looked lost, the kid was crying and the wife was yelling at her husband. I was about to offer help, but I recognized the guy as the one that had stolen my Steak Frites.
So he was on his own. I thought about saying something, but he looked miserable enough already.