I am a product of my times. Throw out a term and I will likely put it into the context of my life. That may or may not resemble current usage. I guess that is true of every generation.
During his lifetime, my father marveled at the cutting edge technology represented by the DC-3. He also worked on the Lunar Excursion Module (LEM) that Neil Armstrong stepped out of on the moon.
I not aiming that high. My focus, today, is more mundane. I give you the food truck. Just out of high school working construction you could set your watch by the roach coach. There the gourmand could indulge in strong coffee, soggy sandwiches, and luke-warm tacos. Everybody partook and nobody complained.
The roach coach has gone the way of the Model T. It has been replaced by the Food Truck.
Television shows and celebrity chefs pay homage to the food truck and the fare offered. I don’t know if any have Michelin stars but a $20 isn’t going to buy lunch.
Every dog has his day. Fads come and go. Waiting for the next great thing. I’ve beat all the platitudes that I care to as an introduction to the next step in the evolution of mobile gastronomy.
Here it is the ultimate in locally sourced, green dining experience. Nothing goes to waste. Direct from Venezuela, I give you the Venezuelan Food Truck.
I don’t care. I’m hollering bullshit, I know a garbage truck when I see it. That is not a roach coach, food truck or any other fine dining venue, liberals care to call it.
Enough with the pretensions. You say Sushi and I say bait.