Today I’m dipping back into an old, semi-regular kind of post I used to do: a celebration of food trucks. If you’re interested, here are all the food trucks I visited back then.
For me it all started when we moved here from Interstate four years ago. It was late summer, I was about two-thirds through my first pregnancy, and it was the sixth interstate or international move we’d made in 18 months. When you move to a completely new city that many times, you get pretty good at learning how to turn “a place” into “a home.” I’m not just talking about your house or apartment here, I’m talking about your neighbourhood. I have worked from home for the past 15 years, so I don’t have the opportunity to make friends and learn about my city through co-workers. I’ve got to do the legwork myself and, since we only have one car and Mr B needs that for work, it is literally legwork.
A friend told us, “I’ve heard that if you walk all the way to the end of your street, there’s a taco truck that parks up there at night.” I became a little obsessed with this promise. I mean I like tacos (who doesn’t?), but I fixated on the mysterious taco truck to a probably overly-excessive degree. To me it represented the first entry in my mental collection of “Stuff I Like About My Neighbourhood,” which is a very important collection to start when you move somewhere new.
I think my daughter was about six weeks old when I finally caught up with the taco truck, although it wasn’t at the end of our street (those darned things have wheels, and it’s harder than you think to track them down in the right place at the right time). I had made a new friend and she and I pushed our prams (her son was about two) north along Lygon Street for several kilometres. The traffic was loud and there were all kinds of building works going on so we walked single file and couldn’t chat. The truck location was a lot further than I’d anticipated. Scout started crying for a feed, my friend’s son was wiggling and fidgeting and decidedly over being strapped into a pram, and still we were walking.
But when finally, finally we made it to the dingy little park outside of which the truck was parked, there were pockets of people milling around. Eating, chatting, lining up for more. Picnic rugs covering dubious patches of grass. Plastic wine glasses and soda bottles with striped straws. People in suits perched on a low wall, bending over their little cardboard plates so that taco juice wouldn’t drip onto their nice clothes. Someone somewhere was playing a guitar. Oh and the tacos were really good (especially the fish ones).
It was the sense of “instant community” that got me hooked on food trucks that day, even more than the food itself. The fact that they can roll up there somewhere not particularly pretty, most often a car park or the side of a nondescript street, and can, by way of a colourful awning and a great-smelling kitchen-on-wheels, create community. And so it started for me.
My food truck hunt slowed down somewhat (alright it pretty much stopped) after I had Ralph. It gets a whole lot harder to schlep around town when you have not only a newborn, but also an 18-month-old who only recently started walking. Double prams are not the most mobile of beasts, and timing long outings around competing nap times and feed times and little legs wanting to run just got too hard. This also coincided with Yarra Council (the area where I live) making it increasingly difficult for food trucks to operate in our area, so I tended to have to travel further afield to find them. I visited a few food truck parks, and even the street food festival last year, and it’s kind of great having all the trucks gathered together, but that’s a) a different kind of community, and b) even I can only sample just so many types of foods in the one meal (especially if I have to individually line up for each one).
But then a few months ago we ducked into a shopping centre to visit the Apple store and, lo and behold, there was a veritable food truck bonanza parked out behind the supermarkets and greengrocers. I left my family waiting inside with the air conditioning (it was 39 degrees that day) and temporarily dipped back into Food Truck Land just for that one afternoon.
What we ate:
* From Wingster’s Grilled Chicken: a burger with buttermilk chicken (because the wings weren’t ready yet) and a spicy sauce I can’t remember (but it was good), and fries
* From the Real Burgers: a classic weiner (because I am a rebel and also it looked and tasted so good) and fries
* From the Refresher Truck: a (virgin) piña colada, and a “green power”
Ah, I’d missed the smoky deliciousness in the air, and the comforting rumble of those generators.