The scene was the parking lot outside Sigel’s at Greenville Avenue just north of Lovers Lane. The characters: Nammi, Ruthie’s, Enticed, Jack’s Chowhound, 3 Men and a Taco, Gandolfo’s, Mr. Cool, Trailercakes and The Bomb Fried Pies. Not since March had that stretch of parade route seen so much traffic.
All in all it was a recipe for an epic new tradition of feasting. There was fanfare. There was buildup. There was excellent participation from all interested parties and coverage from the press and food bloggers all over town. The turnout was fantastic. Parking wasn’t even that bad.
That’s what kept me from doing what it seemed like everyone else was doing: standing in line after line for 30 minutes each to eat mostly hot foods out in the sweltering 110-degree heat. But for the food trucks, the world was their oven. A crowd of … I’m going to say one million came out to sample the wares. Nobody appeared particularly ecstatic, but they were there, and that is enough for me to consider the event a success. We saw the haters proven wrong. Dallas is indeed ready for our own food truck revolution, even in this most punishing of weathers.
I swelled with foodie pride as I walked up to the parking lot at 6 p.m. and saw the shear number who had already turned out. It was roughly 22 seconds in that I realized I couldn’t believe folks were putting themselves through the oppressive temperature, just to carbo-load, chow down and cool off with something icy. It was magical, I thought, but that could have been the heat stroke setting in. I lasted roughly 13 more minutes before calling it a day and taking shelter in the air-conditioned Bitchmobile. I’m not waiting in line for a half-hour without a guaranteed-fantastic roller coaster in my future. I do, however, admire those of my fellow Dallassites who persevered, ate, drank beer and ate some more. I couldn’t hack it, but you all rallied.
And as for the trucks? The obvious move is to say let’s not do this again until we hit a month that rhymes with December. But I say drive the next rally on over to Grapevine Mills. Better yet, just plow right through it. That place is already Hell on Earth on a Saturday. They probably won’t even notice.