I make sure to find time for food every time I go home for break. It’s not that I dislike the options in Durham, but without a car, I can only go so far within the Durham and Chapel Hill areas (thank you, Robertson bus). There are times where a friend might drive me to new food places, but my “foodie friends” and “friends with cars” rarely overlap. It’s rough.
But when I go back home, the world is my oyster. Living a short bus ride from New York City exposes me to various different cultures without leaving a dent in my wallet.
Each time I come home, however, one food stop is mandatory. Whether it is by bus, train or car, I always manage to head over to my halal cart. I feel obligated to inform those poor souls who have yet to experience the savory temptation that is the Halal Guys Cart on 53rd and 6th with the yellow bags across from the Hilton Hotel (if you ever go, you’ll know why I used the lengthy description). I have also heard that some people think all cart foods taste the same, to which I reply with a simple “no.” Stupidity does not deserve a lengthy response.
I should preface this discussion by saying I am not the average foodie. I target foods that should probably come with a warning from the Surgeon General. I have a french fry place that has the best dipping sauces. They also fry the potatoes not once, but twice. It’s glorious. I also forced my girlfriend to take a trip with me to Philadelphia for cheesesteaks. And then there’s my halal stand, which stands above all else.
This obsession started when a high school friend of my introduced me to this halal stand as one of the greatest things in the world. He rambled on and on, until I finally gave in and went to the city. The food quickly became our go-to destination, an excuse for a group of us to gather for guys’ nights out. It was a great experience: train or bus into the city, a short walk to Platters, a wait in a line that makes Bobby Flay cry on the inside and the trek back home. Along the way there has been lots of man talks, jokes and even instances of buying matching scarves. Once a friend and I even got bamboozled into purchasing a rapper’s mix tape (it’s autographed so my fingers are crossed). We even got our prom dates to let us go after the dance.
My love affair with Platters has had its ups and downs in recent times, too. The current girlfriend doesn’t really enjoy the food (our relationship has been strained by this) and I often get tired of being peppered by questions from tourists while trying to enjoy the meal. But, in the end, I always find myself scheduling that run to 53rd and 6th.
I often debate why I go to the same food cart every time I’m in the city. It has nothing to do with my risk aversion—I will try anything once. Instead, my reasoning behind the voyages has more to do with a connection to the things I love the most: bad food and worse people.
Platters brings me memories and community, allowing for discussions with friends and a sense of camaraderie. It also is where I bring people that are close to me. By sitting down and enjoying a dish of chicken and rice and having small talk, I can tell stories and form a connection. Recent trips tell me that I’m not the only one who does this, as the line now extends halfway down the block and is full of people having a reassuring conversation about the quality of the food.
I’m too strong-willed to believe that there is a better place out there and search elsewhere. Instead, I continually bring the uninitiated to Platters and allow them to experience something I love. The eventually shared passion is addicting, even if they don’t fall in love with the food right away.
And that’s the most important part about it. Exploring is hard, especially when attempting to do it alone. It is easy to give up and rest on your laurels, constantly returning to the same groups. The problem with this isn’t that this is an unacceptable way to spread culture or expertise, it’s that the onus falls on the individual rather than the group. Rather than stating that individuals need to wander outside of their circles, it is important to push circles to expand. I’m not asking for groups to allow random people to join their inner circles, but rather for friends to push other friends, or for someone asking a person involved in extracurricular A to also join extracurricular B. Circles can intertwine, and it is often easier for people to expand their horizons when brought in by a friend.
For now I’ll just settle on bringing my friends in to New York for Platters. That’s my circle, and I’m going to expand it as much as I can.
Antonio Segalini is a Trinity junior. His column runs every Wednesday.
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