I've been doing a surplus of food reading lately. My stack includes Diet for a Small Planet, Mission Street Food, and Pintxos (pronounced peen-chohs). All are totally unrelated other than that they're about food, but one thing that ties them together, at least what keeps me rotating through them every 20 pages or so, is that they all are about just down and dirty ghetto ass make-radness-with-the-shit-you-have-because-you're-poor-as-fuck food spirit.
In Erie, at least, food spirit is severely lacking. With the exception of a handful of locally owned business, this town is rampant with frozen-to-fryer mediocrity. OKAY, now before you shit a brick, I'll admit that yeah, sometimes you want some fucking french fries or chicken wings with ranch, or pepperoni balls, or a greasy pile of "lo mein" noodles slathered with msg-rich "brown sauce". We all do sometimes, but to accept mediocrity as the norm allows it to become the only. Why can't we have ghetto-ass-fatty-drunky food (that would also substitute as hangover food) that is classy and daring?
Okay, so this tangent is a spawn of springtime sunshine and Mission Street Food book. I'm getting the hankering to do something spontaneous and dank with food. Granted, there exists zero capital for a truck, let alone the time, but that doesn't quell the almost maniacal urge I have to do something sneaky and reckless, but also delicious and creative. Underground dining (http://www.casasaltshaker.com/faq.htm), pop-up, or whatever. Now, to figure out how to bring more dankness to the people... there must be a way.
