This post is a part of Timeless Thoughts, a monthly link-up hosted by Georgie and Tara where bloggers share something they’ve missed from their past. OK. OK. That’s basically my entire blog, but I’m doing this anyway. Sue me.
The problem with moving from New York City to, well, anywhere else is you will always be nostalgic of New York and will try to feel the same way about whereever you’re living now. It’s just not going to happen. It’s like trying to squeeze Michelle Branch out of Justin Bieber.
There are many obvious things I’ve missed about New York. The architecture. Walkability. Good public transportation. Parks. Chinatown. Mispronouncing my r’s without being judged. It’s the little things you miss, you know?
Then there are things that I miss that I don’t think about that much. Food carts is one of these things.
In New York City, food carts are everywhere. They’re at every corner. They’re in front of courthouses. They’re there when you least expect them. The vendors know you’re hungry, and they’re ready to shove food in your throats.
The closest thing to a food cart we have here in Orlando is a food truck parked to the side of a Home Depot. The sad thing is that I’m not even joking.
Eating from a food cart may seem like an insignificant thing, but I’ve had fond childhood memories of eating hot dogs and honey roasted peanuts from random food carts at random places. You’re just not going to get the same feeling from eating a Big Mac from McDonalds.
There are even food carts in Chinatown. I spent every weekend as a child with my family in Chinatown. From time to time, I would get what’s called mini cakes, which are small circle shaped pancake-like things. Yes, one can easily make them at home. The same thing with hot dogs. And, sure, honey roasted peanuts can easily be bought at any store. I am not reminded of my childhood when buying a container of peanuts from Target though.
Food carts are local and owned by individuals. Targets are not. I’d rather support a local business. Also, I’d be at home. Part of the appeal of food carts is that they’re on the street, and you can just grab something to eat when you’re out and about. Cooking at home is the opposite of what I want. I want my hot dog on my way to the grocery store. I want to pay three bucks for it. And I want a big hairy man named Mike to hand it to me. Steve would also be acceptable.