New York Magazine – July 08, 2019

44 new york | july 8–21, 2019

eating outside

TACOS AL PASTOR

From an Elusive

No-Name Food Cart

YOU NEED A certain level of

dedication to land a dosa from

Thiru Kumar’s vegetarian food cart.

The line is long and slow, made more

so by Kumar’s celebrity status and the

Sri Lankan native’s willingness to

interrupt the steady griddling,

stuffing, and rolling of his lentil-and-

rice crêpes to pose for pictures with

his giddy fans. Savvy regulars have

been known to bring a snack to stave

off hunger. Once within breeze-

wafting distance of the scent of his

masala spice mix, potential customers

become focused on the task at hand,

maybe too focused. On a recent

afternoon, an escaped poodle from

one of the dog runs threatened to

meet its doom by running in erratic

circles near the heavily trafficked

street right by the cart. None of the

dosa addicts in line—however

conflicted by their duty as good

Samaritans versus their desire to get

their dosas—dared break formation to

help the poor pooch. (We’re happy to

report that, after a tense minute or

two, Fido was rescued by its owner.)

So yes, Kumar’s cooking is good

enough to corrupt one’s moral

standards, and also cheap—

everything under $10, in deference to

the NYU students who make up much

of his clientele. The Pondicherry dosa

is the best seller: a crisp but tender

crêpe encasing soft, highly seasoned

potatoes, a crunchy heap of

vegetables, and dried-coconut flakes,

served with small cups of coconut

chutney and lentil soup. Add a samosa

if you’re really hungry, and if the park’s

too crowded, sneak into the leafy

courtyard of NYU’s law school across

the street for a bit of serenity along

with the spice.

NY DOSAS

Washington Square Park S.,

at Sullivan St.; 917-710-2092

A summer-in-the-city

ritual like no other: You

step up to the blue-and-

white-awninged stand,

an incongruously

beachy year-round

setup. You read the old

sign behind the counter,

"We do not mix or

exchange ices,” and

wonder who would try

to return a $2 half-

licked Italian ice? Then

you choose from a

handwritten menu of

50 flavors. If you’re a

traditionalist, you pick

lemon. If you’re in the

know, you go for peanut

butter. If you’re an old-

school Sinatra fan, you

get Frank’s favorite,

fruit cocktail. And if you

really know what you’re

doing, you wave away

the offer of a plastic

spoon because spoons

are for amateurs, and

Peter Benfaremo, the

late Lemon Ice King who

started the business in

1944, did not do spoons.

When all this is settled,

you cross the street to

watch the bocce players

at the leafy William F.

Moore pocket park,

a.k.a. Spaghetti Park.

The crack of a bocce ball

connecting with its

target, the collective

slurp of ice slurpers

slurping—this is the

sweet, syncopated

sound of summer in

Corona.

SPECIAL

PONDICHERRY

DOSA

Next to the

Mounds of Washington

Square Park

THE STRETCH OF ROOSEVELT AVENUE—or as Spanish

speakers often call it, La Roosie—that runs through Jack-

son Heights and Corona below the elevated 7 train has its own

late-night economy of Latin American food trucks and carts,

many of them clustered around the Junction

Boulevard stop. There, on the northwest cor-

ner of Junction and Roosevelt, in front of PL$

Check Cashing, lurks greatness: an unnamed

cart where Mexican-food maestros slice ruddy bits of crispy

achiote-stained pork onto tiny tortillas from a gigantic cone of

stacked pork-shoulder slices that spits and sizzles as it rotates. You

will know it by its heat source—a flaming inferno that crisps the

outer surface of the meat so effectively there’s no need to finish the

slivers on the griddle, as neighboring vendors are wont to do. It’s

the reason that roving food nerds, homesick post-shift line cooks,

local families, and late-night revelers all flock to Mario Cruz’s cart

for the best al pastor outside Mexico City. “Cuatro por cinco,

cuatro por cinco,” Cruz calls out, as his wife, Antonia, presses

fresh-masa tortillas and their son Omar slices the pork off the

trompo. The finishing touch on each single-tortilla taco is a bit of

pineapple flicked from the top of the cone, a bit of street theater

that plays out to a lively audience until 2 a.m. weekdays and even

later on Friday and Saturday nights. joe distefano

7

PEANUT

BUTTER

ICE

AND A

Bocce Match

THE LEMON ICE KING OF CORONA

52-02 108th St., Corona

718-699-5133

Junction Blvd. at

Roosevelt Ave., Corona,

after 10:30 p.m.