When I first heard about the concept of a Food Truck Rodeo, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Really? I thought, How much hipper could people possibly try to be? I’ve never thought of myself as being anti-hipster, but the idea of a dozen mobile kitchens ringed up like 19th-century gourmands on the Oregon Trail instantly brought to mind the idea of faded Phoenix tee-shirts and sardonic conversations about how much better Burning Man used to be before it got all “mainstream.”
To me, food trucks were a utilitarian concept; they brought food to you, so that you didn't have to drag yourself out of your beanbag chair and put on your Sunday best just to drive downtown and find yourself a kebab and some potato chips. The idea of turning such a practical innovation into a cultural event was puzzling. However, as a person who loves food, I couldn’t stop myself from being curious when I heard about Durham’s very own Food Truck Rodeo. So, when it came about last Sunday, I battened down my prejudices against the concept and decided to go, mentally fortifying myself to be underwhelmed.
I was absolutely wrong.
The first impression that I got of the Rodeo as I stepped out of the car was the scale of the event. I had expected something like 10 to 15 trucks to be there, and maybe a local artist or two; instead, as I looked down at Durham Central Park I saw what looked like 25 or 30 trucks, and hundreds of people milling around, eating the widest variety of foods that I’ve ever seen in one place at the same time.
I walked downhill, entering into the fray, and was engulfed in scents and sounds. From my left, I heard a local band playing Latin music, overlaid with intervening shouts from a few workers from local breweries having an amiable and heated discussion with a ruddy-faced man who was insisting that Californian beer stood head and shoulders above North Carolina’s, a statement which apparently incensed Durham’s local brewmasters. To the right, the line of trucks blended in to stalls from local artisanal shops and artists, selling everything from handmade bags and jewelry to outdoor art and soap in the shape of cookies and cupcakes that could have passed for the real deal if not for their piercing odors and bright colors. Between it all roamed a variety of people even more eclectic than the foods and crafts being offered; the largest group represented seemed to be young families, with middle aged and older folks making up a large part of the retinue as well. Students and other young people were there in small groups, many of them bearing expressions that I’m sure mirrored my own surprise and curiosity.
Despite the allure of the beer and soap, I decided to keep myself on track and stick to thing that had initially piqued my curiosity (and wouldn’t get me in trouble with my editor if I wrote about it): the food.
The number and quality of different things available was astounding; my cynical side that initially was dismissive of the concept of the food truck was already slipping away before I even tried anything. Alongside the ones familiar to Duke students (Gussy’s, Humble Pig, and the regretfully departed Baguettaboutit) were trucks offering Italian, Brazilian and Asian food, as well as such esoteric offerings as Belgian waffles. Overwhelmed by choice, I decided to go with something somewhat familiar to me.
I like to think of myself as somewhat of an expert regarding tacos, given their prevalence in my hometown of Oakland, so I started with a Thai taco from the Asian-Mexican fusion truck Amigosan. The taco was delicious, with toasted coconut and spicy slaw beautifully accenting and moderating the spiciness of the chicken. Granted, it was not at all what I had expected––but, in that regard, I think the chefs at Amigosan were successful; they had taken two completely different concepts, and turned them into their own, new thing, completely unique from anything I had ever seen before.
More curious than ever, I went on to try food from many of the other trucks. At each one, I noticed that the chefs at each truck were clearly working to achieve a very clear goal just like the chefs at Amigosan. Quite a few of the other trucks seemed to be following a similar inspiration, fusing two or more influences to put their own stamp on cuisines that traditionally would never have incorporated elements from each other. For example, at Porchetta, I ate a sandwich that incorporated elements of traditional Italian cuisine with southern barbeque influences to create a unique pulled pork sandwich.
Fusion and creative synergy seemed to be the name of the game at the Rodeo; for each chef’s novel creation, another chef had concocted something even more esoteric from seemingly disparate regions and cuisines. However, against this backdrop of hybrids and blends, a few of the trucks were preparing foods that were more familiar. To me, their decision to forego fusion for well-made classics was an even stronger statement than the novelties at the other trucks. The meatball hero I had from Valentino’s, a New York style Italian truck, was better than any I had ever had before, with subtle hints of fennel and parsley in the meat and tangy, delicious parmesan.
In observing the variety of different approaches to cuisine that each chef took, I also noticed a shared energy and enthusiasm between each truck that I visited. My earlier assumption that food trucks were purely practical, and nothing else, was definitely not the case here in Durham. While still serving a very distinct purpose, Durham’s food trucks have taken on a life of their own, both as a distinct entity and as a part of the broader culture of Durham. With so many others to be compared to, each truck has to do something special to stand out against the backdrop of excellence that is so readily available. The community provides the competitive fire for each vendor to create a better product, but in doing so also provides a receptive and encouraging outlet for chefs who want to try something new or untraditional and add a new dimension to the expanding and evolving food culture in Durham.
On a similar note, the Rodeo also led me to notice the interplay between Durham’s food trucks and Durham’s overall standard of culinary excellence. Given that Durham has been recognized over the past few years as being one of the foodiest places in the South, one might expect that restaurants would become more pretentious. However, the food trucks and Food Truck Rodeo show an active resistance against this trend, breaking down the barrier between diners and chefs rather than distancing the customers from the creators. Instead of making food into an obscure, mythical creation that appears flawlessly from an unseen kitchen, food trucks create an environment where the role of chef, waiter and hostess is all wrapped up together. At a food truck, there is no “front of the house” or “back of the house,” and having a conversation with the owner of the truck is the norm.
This realization surprised me even more than any of the foods that were at the Rodeo. I had anticipated pretension and hipsters to be the norm at the Food Truck Rodeo, and although I wasn’t wrong about the fact that the Rodeo was consciously different, I had completely misjudged the causes of these differences and the implications that they would have. The creative energy that leads to the quirky food truck culture of Durham is both a product of Durham’s commitment to being unique and a reaction against the arrogance that may come as a result of the city being so highly praised for its food. The Food Truck Rodeo is something completely different from what my experiences with taco trucks and snooty restaurants back home in California had conditioned me to expect, and Durham is the perfect city to foster it. So, the next time the Durham Food Truck Rodeo comes around, I’ll be there again, and I’ll make sure to bring as many people with me as I can.
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