The Urban Hunt for Food Trucks

Molly Moon's Seattle Food Truck at IFBC

Somewhere in our caveman instincts, we humans long for the hunt. We want to forage for wild berries, catch a fish on a pole, or plant a seed in the dirt that turns into a tomato. Today, we urbanites might handle things differently than our caveman ancestors, but we’re still honing those instincts, hunting. Nowhere is the urban hunt more apparent than the chase for the ultimate food truck.

Across the nation, the hunt for food trucks takes place in cities from Seattle to New York. City dwellers who long to feel alive, that rush of adrenaline upon tracking their target, have taken to hunting down food trucks. Always on the move, the prey is elusive. The urbanite must rely on legends shared by community elders to surmise the best spot for the hunt. If one hunter located a large beast of a truck stuffed with delicious, life-sustaining morsels, he might pass along word of this lucky hunting ground. A young urbanite, eager to feed himself and his brood might heed the elder’s advice, only to appear at the spot and find it empty, no food truck to be seen. Was the food truck real? Or simply urban legend?

Fellow food blogger on the hunt.

This is the joy and the adventure of dining from food trucks. In many cities, urban hunters must rely on word-of-mouth and Twitter to locate these constantly moving targets. One wrong move, one missed Tweet, and you’ve missed your catch.

Lucky for me, at the recent International Food Bloggers Conference (IFBC), the hunt was easy. The conference organizers took down the proverbial wildebeest for us, laying the raw meat like a feast before us. They invited several of Seattle’s finest food trucks to park right outside our conference doors: for free. We didn’t even require a wooden club to obtain our meal: just a smile and a thank you.

Luscious urban fare oozed from every orifice of our prey. We dashed madly from one truck to the next, shooting pictures, licking fingers, greedily pushing hunks of flesh onto our tongues, and tearing through meat with our teeth. But instead of snarls, there were laughter and delight. Juicy fish tacos from El Camion, chewy soft pizza from Rolling Fire Pizza, crisply sugared dough from Anita’s crepes, and thickly rich ice cream from Molly Moon’s.

The elation we felt surely resembles the utter fascination the cavemen experienced when they first discovered fire. The culinary world burst open in a splatter of spicy, smooth, and decadent. Who knew such indulgences could come on red and white checked cardboard rather than china served at a white cloth covered table?

Now, if only Sacramento would get in on the hunt. In the meantime, I suppose our only hope is to forage for berries.

Sun Tea: A Timeless Summer Recipe

Sun Tea, a timeless summer recipe.

Summer drips and glistens when it’s poured into an icy glass. Enjoy the last few drops of the season with some good old fashioned sun tea! If you have no cooking skills whatsoever, you can successfully make sun tea. It’s that easy.

My dad loves iced tea. Growing up, my Illinois summers were set to a backdrop of a stout glass jar plump full of liquid soaking inauspiciously on the back porch. Dad, a jogger, would come home from his run on a muggy day, his forehead dripping like a leaky faucet in the thick, humid air, smelling slightly of musk and armpit. As he mopped his brow with a towel he then slung across his shoulder, he would grab a sturdy glass from the cupboard. That glass was the size of my head, a modern day big gulp of sorts, only made from real glass, like everything used to be.

Next, the freezer would slurp open, and I’d hear the sound of Dad inside, ice clinking against glass from the depth of the cold-blasting door. He’d scurry out back, grab the tubby jar of sun tea, now thoroughly saturated and glowing in amber waves that splashed as he lifted, and pour the precious liquid over ice. As the cubes clicked and crackled, and the glass rang from hollow to full, there was always a glimmer in Dad’s eye. This sun tea was his pure joy, his reward and refreshment after a long run.

I never drank Dad’s sun tea as a little girl. I was more interested in lemonade. But the thought of summer sun tea does bring a skip to my step now that I’m of a caffeine consuming age. There’s just something about that slow roasted brew that soothes and revives and reminds you to ease your pace. Life doesn’t get much better.

When selecting a tea flavor for sun tea, I like to play with fruity teas like cherry almond or mango, or sweet teas like chocolate or caramel. These are the exotic flavors that I would find obnoxious in a hot tea. But with sun tea, you’re aiming for summer fun, so let yourself tea self get silly!

You can find some unique and inspiring flavors online. I recommend trying the New Mexico Tea Company. I have a friend of a friend who owns this shop, and I am so thankful that I was introduced to this delicious tea.

The recipe? I don’t really use one. My friend Elise has a lovely, appropriately measured one you can follow at Simply Recipes.

You do need special equipment for this. Thankfully, it’s easy to come by. Head to your local thrift store and purchase a glass sun tea jar (don’t use plastic). Once you’ve washed it out, fill it with clean drinking water. Next, add tea bags to the water (or loose leaf tea tucked safely inside a tea ball). How much tea?—Follow the measurements for iced tea on your favorite box of tea bags. I usually just throw the entire box in—it depends on how strong you like your tea. I like mine a little burly.

Close the lid to your jar. Take your jar outside and leave it in a nice, sunny spot for about 4 hours. You’ll know it’s done when the liquid is the color of wild honey. Pour it over a glass filled with ice. Find yourself a relaxing chair, sit back, and enjoy!

Foraging Viewed as Rising Food Trend

I recently stood amid a crowd of 250 food bloggers. When keynote speaker Morgan Spurlock asked us what we felt were the growing trends in food writing, I boldly raised my hand and asserted, “Foraging!” I mentioned my friend Hank Shaw’s belief that we humans innately desire to hunt for more than just a bargain when we search for our food; that we want to gather it from someplace more satisfying than a supermarket. Yet, as the words tumbled from my mouth, and later, fell repeatedly from the mouths of presenters at the International Food Bloggers Conference in Seattle, I had to ask myself, “Who am I to talk about foraging?”

Have I mentioned that I’m new to foraging? Sure, I grew up hunting morels and wild blackberries. Who hasn’t? And sure, this summer I harvested pounds of wild elderberries to make juice. But I’m no Hank Shaw. I can’t find wild beach peas or thistle. My foraging palette is pretty narrow.

Further reason to doubt myself comes from a hike last weekend. Emboldened by several recent—successful—foraging trips, I grabbed some random berries I found growing on a nearby bush. I had no idea what they were, but they looked pretty! I had enough sense not to eat them. Nonetheless, I gathered and tossed the shiny black beads into a plastic baggie, hoping to positively identify them later, and possibly enjoy a new, tasty snack.

Upon returning home, I reached out immediately to Hank with my new berry photos. I was so hopeful! I had dreams of pies and scones. But Hank’s reply put a grinding halt to my scheming. “They sure look like nightshade,” he wrote.

Foiled!

With a heavy heart, I tossed my hard-won berries into the trash. So much for my grand foraging plans.

But I’m not giving up yet. I still believe this a food trend on the rise (made cool by guys like Hank Shaw), and one in which I plan to take part. I need to embrace what seasoned foragers like Hank know: use a guidebook! Wiser hunters have passed through those forests before me. I think I’d better let them be my guide.

P.S. If you can positively identify these berries, let me know! My other rookie mistake: I forgot to take a photo of the entire plant for help in later identifying the berries. Oops!