Gray's Update
This afternoon I lunched at the Garment District Gray's Papaya (8th Ave. & 37th St.) again. This time they put the sauerkraut on the dogs as I had requested, and they were much better than the kraut-less dogs I'd had a there a few weeks prior. The onion sauce is too sweet to have on its own. Also, my papaya drink was less frothy this time. It raised my spirits greatly, although my poor stomach is rebelling against me.
I was there in the Garment District looking for sewing notions. My search for an 18-inch zipper took me to a store that sells nothing but zippers--invisible zippers, brass zippers, molded zippers, you name it. They customize zippers. But the line was too long and the zipper selection was overwhelming, and I left the zipper superstore empty-handed.
So, back to the tale of the sausage tasting, my first day of work. I'd earlier related how we wheeled our shiny new cart some 20 blocks to the restaurant owned by the chef who's a partner in the sausage venture. Three young ladies pushing the rather large cart down the street...it may have been quite a sight. Pardon my racism here, but usually you don't see young white chicks pushing food carts around. People took notice.
Not all mobile food vending carts have the good fortune to be pushed by theee people. Most of these vendor dudes transport their carts solo, though their carts tend to be equipped with a hand brake. Ours has none. What our cart does have is a tiny sink, a grill, a steam table, and a number of storage areas for food and dry goods.
We loaded up the cart with pork and beef sausages, baguettes, bottled water, sauces, paper towels, and plastic straws. Then we pushed it over to the playground that will daily host the sausage cart once it's up and running for real. That day, though, our first go at the cart, was an invite-only tasting; we did not yet have the proper permits to be selling to the public.
The chef, J., rode the soda bike after us. We won't just sell cocks, see--we'll have freshly prepared sodas, too, served from a tricycle similar to those that ice cream vendors use. There's a cooler on the back end and a place to put up an umbrella for shade.
After about an hour of poking around and meeting with other sausage cart partners, the setup was complete and the sausages were sizzling on the grill. This is another difference: our sausaged are grilled on a grill, not griddled on a flattop. And we don't have a steamer, and we don't use buns. We serve the sausages on baguettes that are toasted on a spear-like device that burrows a hole in the bread and toasts it from the inside out. Impaling the baguette on the toasting spear in an incredible phallic task, but after a few snickers we got over it.
The grill was fired up, the sauces in their squeeze bottles, and the invited guests began to arrive. Chef J. demonstrated to us future sausage cart overlords how to properly assemble the sausages. The cocks themselves are pre-cooked and only need to be heated through on the grill until they show some light charring and blistering. Then we grab a toasted, bored-out baguette, squirt the requested sauce inside, and stuff the sausage in there, making sure the sauce is properly distributed. That's that. Sausage time.
It's pretty easy. We all had a go at the grill, flipping sausages and squirting sauce. I had a blast. It's been years since I've been in a professional kitchen during service time, and while this was hardly demanding work, it was thrilling to lord over a smoldering heat source. We passed out cocks to the invited guests--mostly kind hipster professionals who were extremely patient and sausage-savvy--and generated many curious looks and a good number of inquiries from passers-by. It went off rather smoothly.
I had two sausages that day: a beef with feta-tomato sauce, and a pork with grainy mustard. I think I prefer the pork sausage, but I'm a pork fiend. The beef-and-feta cock was extremely satisfying and substantial. We'll sell the dogs for $5 a pop, and lemme tell you, that's the best $5 lunch to be had in New York. (The best $2.75 lunch I mentioned at the beginning of this blog). My second cock--the pork one--tore up my mouth from baguette overexposure. I learned my lesson: if I cross the one-dog mark, eat dog #2 sans baguette.
After the guests thinned out and gradually returned to their work at advertising firms and whatnot, our tasting was over. We wheeled the cart back to Chef J.'s restaurant and broke it down. After some light wiping-off of stainless teel surfaces with bleach water, I looked at my rag and saw it was covered with black crud. That, folks, is the air in Manhattan. The crud on the rag was in my lungs. I can't wait to see what the cart will look like after a full day in the park. Viva air quality!
After the cart was spic-and-span, we wheeled it 20 blocks back to the parking garage. The goal is to store the cart in a depot where they will empty the waste water and refill the propane, etc., and where it will safely be stored under government-approved conditions. Until then, it's the 20-block commute.
My cock co-workers and I then went out for drinks with the sausage cart business partners, their treat. I had sangria, then a Bud Light, and then a shot of tequila. The partners/investors/Chef J. were in a good mood, happy to see the fruits of two years' labor in tangible sausage form. Me, I was just drunk. How I blundered into that fatal combination of alcohols I do not wish to say, but I was smart enough to excuse myself before I passed out at 7:30pm after a mere three drinks. I stumbled to the subway, my tummy full of cocks, and promptly got on the E train, which took me all the way to Roosevent Street before I realized I needed to be on the V. Whoops.
I was there in the Garment District looking for sewing notions. My search for an 18-inch zipper took me to a store that sells nothing but zippers--invisible zippers, brass zippers, molded zippers, you name it. They customize zippers. But the line was too long and the zipper selection was overwhelming, and I left the zipper superstore empty-handed.
So, back to the tale of the sausage tasting, my first day of work. I'd earlier related how we wheeled our shiny new cart some 20 blocks to the restaurant owned by the chef who's a partner in the sausage venture. Three young ladies pushing the rather large cart down the street...it may have been quite a sight. Pardon my racism here, but usually you don't see young white chicks pushing food carts around. People took notice.
Not all mobile food vending carts have the good fortune to be pushed by theee people. Most of these vendor dudes transport their carts solo, though their carts tend to be equipped with a hand brake. Ours has none. What our cart does have is a tiny sink, a grill, a steam table, and a number of storage areas for food and dry goods.
We loaded up the cart with pork and beef sausages, baguettes, bottled water, sauces, paper towels, and plastic straws. Then we pushed it over to the playground that will daily host the sausage cart once it's up and running for real. That day, though, our first go at the cart, was an invite-only tasting; we did not yet have the proper permits to be selling to the public.
The chef, J., rode the soda bike after us. We won't just sell cocks, see--we'll have freshly prepared sodas, too, served from a tricycle similar to those that ice cream vendors use. There's a cooler on the back end and a place to put up an umbrella for shade.
After about an hour of poking around and meeting with other sausage cart partners, the setup was complete and the sausages were sizzling on the grill. This is another difference: our sausaged are grilled on a grill, not griddled on a flattop. And we don't have a steamer, and we don't use buns. We serve the sausages on baguettes that are toasted on a spear-like device that burrows a hole in the bread and toasts it from the inside out. Impaling the baguette on the toasting spear in an incredible phallic task, but after a few snickers we got over it.
The grill was fired up, the sauces in their squeeze bottles, and the invited guests began to arrive. Chef J. demonstrated to us future sausage cart overlords how to properly assemble the sausages. The cocks themselves are pre-cooked and only need to be heated through on the grill until they show some light charring and blistering. Then we grab a toasted, bored-out baguette, squirt the requested sauce inside, and stuff the sausage in there, making sure the sauce is properly distributed. That's that. Sausage time.
It's pretty easy. We all had a go at the grill, flipping sausages and squirting sauce. I had a blast. It's been years since I've been in a professional kitchen during service time, and while this was hardly demanding work, it was thrilling to lord over a smoldering heat source. We passed out cocks to the invited guests--mostly kind hipster professionals who were extremely patient and sausage-savvy--and generated many curious looks and a good number of inquiries from passers-by. It went off rather smoothly.
I had two sausages that day: a beef with feta-tomato sauce, and a pork with grainy mustard. I think I prefer the pork sausage, but I'm a pork fiend. The beef-and-feta cock was extremely satisfying and substantial. We'll sell the dogs for $5 a pop, and lemme tell you, that's the best $5 lunch to be had in New York. (The best $2.75 lunch I mentioned at the beginning of this blog). My second cock--the pork one--tore up my mouth from baguette overexposure. I learned my lesson: if I cross the one-dog mark, eat dog #2 sans baguette.
After the guests thinned out and gradually returned to their work at advertising firms and whatnot, our tasting was over. We wheeled the cart back to Chef J.'s restaurant and broke it down. After some light wiping-off of stainless teel surfaces with bleach water, I looked at my rag and saw it was covered with black crud. That, folks, is the air in Manhattan. The crud on the rag was in my lungs. I can't wait to see what the cart will look like after a full day in the park. Viva air quality!
After the cart was spic-and-span, we wheeled it 20 blocks back to the parking garage. The goal is to store the cart in a depot where they will empty the waste water and refill the propane, etc., and where it will safely be stored under government-approved conditions. Until then, it's the 20-block commute.
My cock co-workers and I then went out for drinks with the sausage cart business partners, their treat. I had sangria, then a Bud Light, and then a shot of tequila. The partners/investors/Chef J. were in a good mood, happy to see the fruits of two years' labor in tangible sausage form. Me, I was just drunk. How I blundered into that fatal combination of alcohols I do not wish to say, but I was smart enough to excuse myself before I passed out at 7:30pm after a mere three drinks. I stumbled to the subway, my tummy full of cocks, and promptly got on the E train, which took me all the way to Roosevent Street before I realized I needed to be on the V. Whoops.
posted by Lefty at 11:32 AM
1 Comments:
This blog is cock-tastic.
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