A Trio of Food Truck Titans Tackle the Mac (and Cheese) Truck

It had to happen sooner or later.  The stars align, the traffic patterns converge, and I find myself food trucking on a stunning spring day with my BFF Amanda and my college roommate Ford McKenzie.  It’s almost as good as the first time the Super Friends teamed up – but less spandex.  Here’s what transpired. 

It started like any other ordinary, ho-hum day.  I am leaving an appointment at the dermatologist (I ask you, what could be more ordinary than that?) and I’m obsessively checking Facebook on my iPhone as I ride the elevator down to street level.  There I see the post that will forever change my day.  The Mac Truck has landed on 47^th below Park.

The Mac Truck is the primary purveyor of mac and cheese truck food in New York City. I’ve been tracking the Mac Truck for close to a year, but never, ever have I found myself in the right place at the right time.  This is simply unacceptable for a mac and cheese addict. 

Standing on Broadway, I immediately ping my BFF Amanda back at the office.   Is she free for lunch?   Her response makes me weep.  She is in back-to-back meetings until 2:30 pm.  Next I ping my college roommate Ford McKenzie.  Despite having spent way too much quality time with me in recent days, he is game for lunch and agrees to rendezvous on Park Avenue at 12:15 PM.  Success!  I can almost taste the cheddar!

What happens next can only be described as carbohydrate karma, or an embarrassment of high calorie riches.  Amanda’s noon appointment cancels, and she too, is available for lunch!  “OMG, power of intention!” she responds.

Double good mac and cheese and a double date for lunch!

“I’m suited up and I’m even wearing lipstick today,” she writes.

“You will look stunning in whatever hotel Ford chooses for lunch,” I write back. 

We convene in the lobby at noon. Amanda is wearing a fabulous charcoal suit by Chicos, turquois jewelry accessories by Stella & Dot and cosmetics by Bobbi Brown. And don’t forget the heels.  

“This is the perfect lunch,” she tells me as we steel away through the not-so-secret underground tunnels that connect Rockefeller Center.  “My three basic food groups are lasagna, cupcakes and mac and cheese!”

The hike to 47^th and Park is a little daunting, particularly for a gal in heels, but Amanda soldiers on with great pluckiness.   I have a moment of panic when we get to 47^th and I don’t see the Mac Truck.   Have I dragged this poor woman across town in heels for nothing?

We spot Ford on the corner.  He is decked out in Carhart for Opening Ceremony cotton pants, checked custom shirt from Maxwell’s of Hong Kong, Timberland for Opening Ceremony boat shoes, a contrasting check car coat by Hope, and Brooks Brothers underwear and socks.  (I didn’t fact check the last reference).  

I am wearing generic jeans, and a Charles Tyrwhitt slim cut sky blue gingham shirt, but this is never about my fashion choices.  

I introduce them, realizing that Superman and Batman have nothing on this team.  This team up is perhaps more momentous than when Holmes met Watson, or Mary met Rhoda.

“I’m wearing skinny clothes,” says Ford by way of introduction.  “They’re not really conducive to eating mac and cheese.”  One must pity the poor fashion-forward gentleman who buys his slacks one size too small.   

I sense a commotion on the other side of Park, and indeed there seems to be a street party in progress.   There, sandwiched between a line of food vehicles is the elusive canary yellow Mac Truck.   We join the communal lunch line.   A medley of R&B and gospel music is blasting from the speaker on the Mac Truck.

Overall, this food choice may be a little risky.   It’s very near the end of mac and cheese season.  Gorging on mac and cheese in late spring is a little like wearing white after Labor Day. 

Ford immediately reveals all my deep, dark secrets from college.  “We used to call him the Phantom,” he tells Amanda, “because we could never find him.” Amanda appears to file that fact for future reference and leverage.  

My College Roommate and My Perfectly Accessorized BFF Line up for Mac N' Cheese

We reach the truck window where we are greeted by Dom, a lively and wiry guy, who is scooping mac and cheese into plastic containers.   He wears a black T-shirt with the slogan, “You May Say I’m A Dreamer.”   Until then, I’d not realized that John Lennon was a mac and cheese fan.  The “small” serving of mac and cheese could feed a small army.   We can't even fathom ordering the large serving.  Ford makes a snide remark about the calorie content, which Dom summarily dismisses. 

Dom Dishes Mac N' Cheese

“I’m on the mac and cheese diet and I’m losing weight,” he retorts.    

Amanda orders the Classic Mac N’ Cheese with breadcrumbs, I choose the Bacon Mac N’ Cheese with Parmesan, and Ford orders the BBQ Pulled Pork Mac N’ Cheese and a side of Fried Mac Bites.   That’s right – basically Mac N’ Cheese croquettes.   As he is a connoisseur, Ford also orders an orange soda to go with his nearly orange lunch.  

Ford Orders BBQ Pulled Pork Mac N' Cheese

The question we now consider is where do we eat?   Ford suggests the Intercontinental Hotel, which is right around the corner.  We’ve dined there before, but he likes the cushy paisley sofas in the lobby and thinks they will be perfect for the inevitable food coma that will follow lunch.   As we approach, the door to the hotel opens automatically, as if to welcome well-dressed street food urchins with open arms.  

We settle down on the paisley sofa, lay out the carbolicious buffet and begin to sample.   Immediately, the toasted breadcrumbs scatter across the mahogany veneer tabletop.   Amanda notes that the Classic is just a touch bland, and we wonder if Dom was dancing so fast that he might have left out the salt.   The Bacon Mac N’ Cheese is loaded with smoky flavor, and the fried Mac Bites are just a ridiculously excessive indulgence.   Hands down, our favorite is the BBQ Pulled Pork Mac N’ Cheese, which has a perfect balance of sweet and smoky BBQ sauce and cheesy goodness.   I guess we are mac and cheese iconoclasts at heart.  

Amanda gives Ford career advice (because that's what she does, and quite well, thank you) and the two of them trade parenting tips and tribulations, while I nosh on the noodles. And, if there is any doubt by now that dining on street food in hotel lobbies is the next big thing, I note that there is a couple reclining on the sofa not far from us, chowing down on taco salad in Styrofoam clamshells and drinking Pepsi.  We truly are trendsetters.  

Dining on Street Food in Hotels is the Next Big Thing

The food coma is almost immediate.  Ford considers checking into the hotel for the afternoon or making a coffee run.  After all that cheese sauce, Amanda wants a palate cleanser, so we agree to stop at a frozen yogurt truck on the way back to the office.

“Sprinkles are essential,” Amanda notes as we begin to clean up our indoor picnic.  

“My figure can’t handle frozen yogurt after mac and cheese,” says Ford and he leaves us after we’ve deposited our trash in a can on 48^th Street.  

I treat Amanda to an awesome swirl of vanilla yogurt with rainbow sprinkles, and I can’t help but notice how beautifully her perfectly lacquered red nail sets off the multi-colored sprinkles.

Can you imagine that some people actually bother to go to the Four Seasons for lunch?   If only they knew what we know.  

©2014 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved  

Raining Katz and Dogz

It’s been so cold that food trucking has been prohibitive. So it’s been quite some time since my college roommate Ford McKenzie and I stepped out for a noontime bite to eat. 

Then, out of the blue, he suggests we grab lunch. I suspect he is secretly jealous of my BFF Amanda and the fan base she has built as a recurring guest star on “Culinary Types.”  Personally, I’m not choosy – the more scintillating sidekicks the bigger, as long as they’re entertaining.

Ford pings me that morning for lunch details. I suggest the new deli truck “Katz and Dogz” which I spot that morning parked on 55^th and Broadway.  It promises a Jewish deli on the streets of New York.  

“What hotels are in the area?” Ford asks. Please note, that it is now just assumed that when we get truck food we are going to a hotel lobby to dine.  I offer a few suggestions that Ford summarily dismisses as too small or not hip enough.  I should know better than to take on the fine dining aspect of the lunch adventure.

Ford and I rendezvous at 55^th Street and Broadway shortly after noon. While I have assumed that Katz and Dogz is affiliated with the famous Katz Deli of New York, Ford informs me that this is not the case at all and the K&D team is actually Brooklyn-based. “So much for truth in advertising,” Ford remarks.

Ford is dressed urban urbane. He’s wearing a black leather jacket from Botticelli, black mid-1960s Ivy League style pants, JM Weston penny loafers, a white button down shirt from Maxwell’s of Hong Kong, Bulgari stainless steel watch, and socks and underwear from Target (Or so I’m told.  I know. TMI.).  As I aim to snap a photo he says, “Don’t make me look fat.”  

Now to the food.  Katz and Dogz promises a dining experience that will rock your world.  

We queue up to place our order.  I notice that one member of the K&D team is slicing pastrami paper-thin using one of those circular meat grinders.  If not for the automobile fumes, it would really feel like a deli. Ford orders the Pastrami Paradise on Rye with Mustard and a side of macaroni salad. I order the Rueben Orgasm with Russian dressing on Rye (which sounds way too racy for lunch) with a side of potato salad.  

Ford has come prepared for a covert dining operation.  This is the first time we’ve lunched on the west side and he’s a little uncertain of the landscape.  Will we get easy access to lobby dining, or will west side hotel security be more stringent?  So, all of the food gets concealed in a canvas bag allowing us stealth entry to the hotel of our choice.  

Ford offers two options for our street food, indoor picnic.

“The Novotel in Times Square has a view,” he adds with a glint in his eye. 

“Sold!” I reply.  I’m a sucker for a good vista.  

“I had a feeling,” Ford says and we are on our way.

The Novotel on 52^nd just off of Broadway has recently been remodeled, and is promoting itself as a Four Star hotel.  It sounds like just the right spot for a pastrami lunch.  We enter on the street level undetected.  There is just a bellman’s desk and whole bunch of luggage cluttering the immediate area.  I try to look inconspicuous but I’m wondering if the bellman can detect a hint of pastrami as we breeze past.  

The lobby is actually on the 5^th floor, proof that lobbies are no longer at street level and you can’t count on anything anymore. No underachiever, the lobby bar is called “Supernova.”  

It is a stunning, high tech environment dotted with computers and tables that simulate the effect of ocean waves. Very scenic and somewhat overstimulating.  Note how the computerized water pools around the lunch sack.

I notice that there’s even a soundtrack. We are on Broadway after all. The ambiance is punctuated with a peppy selection of show tunes, jazz and reggae.  

Ford removes the pastrami and corned beef contraband from the lunch sacks. The pastrami is sublime – silky, and perfectly spiced without a hint of grease.   Within moments, it has vanished.  

I’m really not sure how to assess or describe the orgasmic qualities of a Reuben Sandwich. I probably need to spend more time in Times Square.  However, I can tell you that it is quite tasty, and the Swiss cheese and sauerkraut adds a nutty, piquant touch to the Dagwood-sized sandwich.  

The side salads are less than impressive, but the massive sandwiches overshadow any disappointment there. It looks like a lot of food, but within minutes, we seem to have inhaled it all. We’re growing boys, I guess. 

With our ocean wave tabletop cleared of all food, the only thing we haven’t done is checked out the view from the wrap-around outdoor balcony. 

If the Reuben is orgasmic, the view from the Novotel is indeed thrilling, offering a sweeping view of the best of the Great White Way.  

As Ford and I part ways, I return to work defying gravity and humming the theme from “Rocky.”

Late that night, I am scanning the news headlines online and come across a classic David and Goliath smack down. That afternoon, perhaps as we were gorging ourselves on pastrami and corned beef, Katz’s Delicatessen slapped the Katz and Dogz food truck with a lawsuit, claiming the food truck is making money off the deli’s brand without permission.  

I forward the NY Post article to Ford.   He responds with his typical brand of understatement. “Legal or not, it was mighty good pastrami.”

©2014 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

The Grilled Cheese Grill - Portland, Oregon

What's more comforting than a grilled cheese sandwich made by Mom?   Believe it or not, the answer might just be a hot and gooey grilled cheese sandwich cooked up by a couple of bearded dudes in a gleaming silver trailer in Portland, Oregon.

We'd heard that The Grilled Cheese Grill featured the best grilled cheese in Portland (who could doubt Reader's Digest?) - but how cool to learn that it's all served from a truck, at one of Portland's numerous food cart pods -- this one located at SE 28th and Ankeny.

It's hard to decide which is more enticing - the sleek, torpedo-shaped trailer that houses the grill, or the double-decker Partridge Family style school bus that serves as the dining facility. The youngest in our party insists that the bus is THE place to dine, and climbs to the top floor several times. 

The tabletops are covered in easy-to-clean decoupage featuring dozens of elementary school class pictures.   

Step up to the grill window and place an order.  You'll be greeted with a smile, and handed a claim check featuring the face of a 1980's TV icon.   Appropriately, mine was Mr. T of the A Team.   

    

Our order is as varied as our party, and one can experience everything from classic grilled cheese to nouveau cuisine.  

The Gabby features four cheeses – Tillamook Cheddar, Swiss, Mozzarella and Colby Jack. The Jersey offers sautéed mushrooms and Swiss on marble rye. The Mondor layers Pepperjack Cheese, avocado, fresh red onion and roasted red pepper.  The Kindergartner (appropriately chosen by our Kindergartner-to-be) is classic grilled cheese on white or multi-grain topped with the regions best - Tillamook Cheddar Cheese.  You can opt to have the crusts cut off.  And there are plenty of other options that will have you reliving your misspent youth. 

A few bites, and we're all luxuriating in a luscious lactose high.  The recipe is simple - just butter, bread and cheese. But, what stringy, delicious satisfaction!  If you're ever in Portland, take some time to savor a scrumptious, second childhood courtesy of the Grilled Cheese Grill.

©2013 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved