He insists that I touch his index fingers. “Calloused” does not even begin to cover it. They feel like the fingers of a mannequin, toughened by countless turns of wooden sticks over a barbecue grill. This dude cooks up yakitori at a little bar outside Senjuohashi Station in Tokyo.
It’s an occupational deformity, physical proof of his work experience.
By way of demonstration, he taps at his iPhone, whose touchscreen does not register his index fingers as belonging to a person. He uses his middle and ring-fingers to navigate the phone instead.
At this point, I’ve been in Japan for a total of two hours, counting the 70-minute ride from NRT along the Keisei Electric Railway. I had stopped for a quick bite before meeting my airBNB hostess at the station.
After dropping off my bag (carry-on only, of course), I found myself perched on a plastic milk crate, devouring yakitori and sipping beer with a gregarious bunch of locals, all of whom were keen to test out their English, and all of whom did better than I did with my woefully meager Japanese.
You may think that the woman’s reaction at 1:00 is extreme or overly dramatic. You’d only think that if you’ve never been to In-N-Out Burger, or, even worse, you’ve grown up with In-N-Out and have never had to go without it for too long.
If In-N-Out came to Vancouver, two things would happen:
I’d rave about it to anyone who would listen, as well as to everyone who won’t listen.
I’d be morbidly obese within a few months.
We have NIMBY Burger in Kitsilano, but it’s only open for about 37 seconds per year (i.e. during the summer), though I daresay their fine creations are very similar to In-N-Out’s fare. I’d queue in the rain, no problem. Alternatley, they could organize an awning.
Where can you find In-N-Out Burger? Arizona, California, Nevada, Texas and Utah. (In-N-Out locations) Some in SoCal think that the spread of In-N-Out is a total sellout. To them I say, “STFU and give me some fries!” It’s the only chain restaurant that I like, really.
Well, Beard Papa is also awesome, but that goes without saying.
Are a New York City local? Is that right? Are you sure? In other words… do you know if your favorite eatery has hidden menu items? Culinary easter eggs, as it were?
Well, the secret sandwiches and hidden snacks are out there, waiting for you to discover and enjoy them. Thrillist outlines a few of the (no longer) secret menu items that lurk in NYC’s culinary corners and gastronomic alleyways.
Cabrito‘s pulled goat cemita sounds especially intriguing…
Rubbed with ancho & guajillo chilies, dry roasted for 3hrs, then pulled w/ charred tomato & chili sauce, Cabrito’s goat is featured here on a sweet sesame Mexican bun with refried beans, iceberg lettuce, quesa de oaxaca, avocado, and home-grown papalo, a Central American herb that will leave you something to declare: that it’s delicious!
Grilled Cheese Dealer: Exploring the Mysterious World of Grilled Cheese Sandwich Delivery in New York City
When people buy drugs in New York City, they call a number (back in the day it was a pager), and a dealer would rock up with whatever you ordered. Or so I’m told.
One entrepreneur is taking that business model (and it’s clearly a viable one, as the practice persists) and applying it to a more legal mood-altering substance: the grilled cheese sandwich. His name is Ronnie, and he’s a grilled-cheese dealer.
Ronnie receives a text message from a client, and then delivers a $5 grilled cheese sandwich. That’s it.
How do you get Ronnie’s number? Through someone who has ordered from him before. This is the NYC illicit delivery scene: this is no Yellow Pages operation.
Ronnie’s business isn’t exactly legal, since he doesn’t have a restaurant license. That’s his next step, though.
RONNIE: Hey, how’s it going?
NEWNAM: You’re Ronnie? Do you have the stuff?
RONNIE: I do. I have the stuff right here for you.
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