When I first spotted Arepa Zone (“AZ”) in a line of food trucks near the Ballston metro station, I was immediately curious to learn more. What was an arepa? What type of cuisine was it? How did one correctly pronounce “arepa”?

AZ bills itself as “the DMV’s first and only food truck serving authentic [V]enezuelan cuisine.” The menu helpfully explains that an arepa, pronouned ah-ray-pah, is a “grilled corn patty opened up to make a pocket, crunchy on the outside and moist on the inside” and stuffed with your choice of filling.

While AZ’s menu predominantly consists of, well, arepas – thirteen variations in total – it also serves cachapas. A cachapa is a “thick, sweet, and creamy corn pancake.” It is folded over and filled with various meat and cheese fillings. For this, AZ has four different filling combinations.

Street Food

How, oh how, did arepas and cachapas not make it on a food truck’s menu sooner? Arepas and cachapas were meant to be on a food truck’s menu. They are, in other words, street food, or “the kind[] . . . that can be [prepared] in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011). Similar to sandwiches, they are easy to eat on the go. See, e.g., In re Wassub, 13 Catt. 1 (2012); In re Borinquen Lunch Box, 10 Catt. 3 (2012); In re Rolling Ficelle, 6 Catt. 3 (2012) (cases finding sandwiches to be street food). They are also considered to be street food in countries where they are popularly eaten. For example, arepas are classic street food in Columbia. See In re Barbecue Cart at Heidelberg Pastry Shoppe, 33 Catt. 1 (2014) (granting positive treatment to dishes that are considered to be street food in their countries of origin, like bratwurst in Germany).

Catira and La Clásica

With all signs pointing to a promising experience, I queued up in AZ’s line. Arepas and cachapas were, for me, something new. As I read through the various filling choices on the menu (“I want to try that. And that. That one, too!”), I planned second and third return visits even before taking my first bite.

Catira

Catira ($7.50). For my first arepa, I ordered the Catira, which was filled with shredded chicken and shredded cheddar cheese. It was served with a small container of guasacaca, a green sauce. All arepas also came with a small side item. Sides varied from visit to visit; I was given a cabbage and carrot slaw while my law clerk received a side of watermelon on a later date.

As AZ advertised, the grilled corn patty had a toasty texture on the outside and was soft on the inside. The shredded chicken filling, made with a sofrito sauce (typically garlic, onion, paprika, and tomatoes), was tasty on its own, but the flavor hit a high when topped off with AZ’s rich and creamy guasacaca. Usually made with avocado, onion, garlic, pepper, cilantro, parsley, vinegar, and olive oil, guasacaca is commonly described as the Venezuelan version of guacamole. After pouring the entire container of guasacaca over my arepa, I ate it with gusto, not even minding the drippings of the chicken’s sofrito sauce running messily down my hands.

La Clásica

La Clásica ($7.50). The classic cachapa was filled with a generous amount of queso de mano, a mild, soft cheese that reminded me of mozzarella. The sweet corn pancake surrounding it was similar in texture – soft and thick. While the first two bites of the cachapa were interesting – cheesy! sweet! fluffy! – the lack of variety in texture made the remaining bites monotonous.

Conclusion

AZ’s arepas and cachapas are a welcome, well-executed breath of fresh air to the food truck scene. While you might have to find the filling that matches your taste and texture preferences, there are plenty of choices to consider (think ingredients like ham, beef, chicken, black beans, plantains, tomato, and avocado), and eating your way through the menu to find your favorite will likely be a fun adventure. Find the truck at various locations in DC and Northern Virginia.

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

SnoCream Shavery

Even before I knew that a new kind of frozen dessert was on board, SnoCream Shavery lured me in with its look alone. It was impossible not to notice an old school bus—not a truck, not a cart, but a 30-plus-foot-long bus—parked in a lot near my chambers. Long gone was the jarring school bus yellow color, and in its place was a wintery scene in soothing pastels. Two large creatures were painted on the bus’s side, and they managed to appear playful and welcoming despite the horns on their heads.

I circled around the bus a couple of times to make sure that, yes, customers were supposed to hop on the bus. Inside, only the driver’s seat remained; the passenger seats had been removed. Countertops ran along each side of the bus, just under the windows, for customers to eat on board. At the very back of the bus was the service station: a large machine that looked like a mix between an ice cream maker and a deli meat slicer, a freezer filled with cylinder-shaped blocks of flavored ice, and a toppings bar straight out of a frozen yogurt shop.

SnoCream Shavery

SnoCream Shavery describes its frozen treat as “a hybrid between ice cream and shaved ice.” It is made by shaving long, thin sheets from a flavored, frozen block. When the sheets fall into a cup, they sort of look like raw phyllo dough.

Ordering snocream is a three-step process. The first step is to select a flavor. Among others, choices include green tea, coffee, sweet milk, mango, and strawberry. Second, the customer picks two toppings, such as mochi, chocolate chips, M&M’S, granola, or fresh fruit. The final step is picking a sauce, like condensed milk, caramel, or chocolate, to drizzle over the top. A cup of snocream with two toppings is $5.

If snocream doesn’t entice you, or in case one dessert is not enough, SnoCream Shavery also has macarons on the menu. Flavors include unexpected offerings, such as lychee and Cinnamon Toast Crunch. A macaron is $2.

Street Food

Before I can review SnoCream Shavery’s menu of snocream and macarons, I must address the issue of street food.

It is well-settled that iced desserts are street food, or “the kind[] . . . that can be [prepared] in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011); see also In re Captain Cookie & The Milkman at Thomas Foolery, 23 Catt. 2 (2013) (ice cream sandwich is street food); In re Pleasant Pops, 21 Catt. 4 (2013) (popsicle is street food); In re Sinplicity, 9 Catt. 3 (2012) (ice cream is street food.)

On the other hand, baked goods, which are typically made ahead of time at a stationary site and then merely distributed from a mobile vehicle, are not street food. See, e.g., In re Sweetbites, 10 Catt. 1 (2012) (cupcake is not street food); In re That Cheesecake Truck, 10 Catt. 4 (2012) (cheesecake is not street food); Dangerously Delicious Pies, 4 Catt. 4 (2011) (pie is not street food).

The snocream’s street food status and the macaron’s non-street food status are to be considered positively and negatively, respectively, by this reviewing tribunal. See In re Barbecue Cart at Heidelberg Pastry Shoppe, 33 Catt. 1 (2014).

Green Tea SnoCream with Condensed Milk Drizzle

I ordered green tea snocream with mochi, M&M’S, and a drizzle of condensed milk. It took me more than a few minutes to settle on a combination, as my poor decision-making at FroZenYo on multiple occasions has taught me that one’s favorite flavors and toppings do not necessarily make sense together in a single cup. The woman in line with me seemed to have a similar challenge when ordering. After she listed off her chosen snocream flavor, toppings, and sauce, she questioned the staff in an unsure voice, “Does that sound okay?”

The green tea flavor was exactly what I expected and wanted—not too strong, not too sweet. The consistency, however, was disappointing. The description of snocream as a mix between shaved ice and ice cream is accurate, but unfortunately snocream lacks the best qualities of each. My cup of snocream lacked the coarse, crunchy texture of shaved ice and the creaminess of ice cream. The consistency—too little milk and too much water—just wasn’t satisfying. It was like drinking a watered-down cup of mocha on a Sunday morning while dreaming of a perfectly brewed cup.

While snocream itself isn’t a rich indulgence, SnoCream Shavery lets you make it one with toppings and sauces. At least one sinful choice—a candy topping or sweet sauce—goes a long way if your intention is to have a real dessert. Upon seeing how much (or rather, how little) condensed milk ended up on top of my snocream, I was asked by the staff whether I wanted more to be added. In retrospect, I should have taken the hint and said yes.

Green tea snocream with mochi, M&M’S, and condensed milk, plus taro macaron.

Taro Macaron

As I was handing over my credit card to be swiped, I threw in a taro macaron to my order. The choice was easy to make. As a general rule, anything taro-flavored on the menu has my name on it. I get this from my mother, who always sneaks in the purple ingredient to add a twist to her otherwise traditional Filipino dishes. Like adding taro to the crepe-like wrapper in fresh lumpia (a spring roll). Or mixing taro into her recipe for pandesal (a bread roll). Finding and eating taro-flavored dishes make me feel like I could be sitting at the restaurant my mom once dreamed of opening, one that had a menu starring purple-colored ingredients (not just taro, but purple beans, purple potatoes, and so on).

SnoCream Shavery’s execution of the trendy French confection was excellent. The taro macaron was easily eaten with the eyes first, with its soft lavender color, the sheen of perfectly smooth cookies, and a silky-looking filling. The cookies had a light, almost caramelized outer crust, while the center was soft, moist, and slightly chewy. The cookie-to-filling ratio was balanced—not too much, not too little—so that when I bit into the macaron, the filling didn’t squish out the sides. Each bite was so easy and clean that, while probably best eaten at a café with coffee, I had no problem perching the macaron between my fingers and nibbling away at it as I strolled down the street to the metro. In the end, the only problem that I had with the three bites of my macaron was that it was gone after three bites.

Conclusion

While the snocream from SnoCream Shavery is worth having once just to try something different, the macaron is the treat worth going back for again. Because SnoCream Shavery’s bus is much longer than D.C. regulations allow, you can only find it in Virginia. The bus has been making regular appearances on Thursday evenings at Clarendon’s weekly Food Truck Rally, which runs through the end of October.

AFFIRMED in part and REMANDED in part to SnoCream Shavery for revision. It is so ordered.

Heidelberg Pastry Shoppe (“Heidelberg”) is a German bakery and deli in Arlington, Virginia. On most days, one will encounter a very familiar scene there: display cases filled with cookies and cakes, customers looking for the take-a-number dispenser and waiting for their tickets to be called. The shop offers mainstays of any American bakery like black and white cookies and cold cut sandwiches, but its German roots come through at every turn—from its delicate marzipan treats, to open sandwiches with leberwurst, to imported grocery items like Mezzo Mix. What makes Heidelberg different is what it becomes on Saturdays during the summer and early fall.

Barbecue Cart at Heidelberg Pastry Shoppe

On Saturdays from May to October, Heidelberg sets up a barbeque cart in front of its shop. The barbeque cart embraces the best of Germany, offering a menu of various grilled wurst (bratwurst, knackwurst, weisswurst, and more), plus sauerkraut, German potato salad, and pretzels. The issue before the Supreme Cart is whether the barbeque cart outside Heidelberg’s shop is within our jurisdiction and eligible for review.

A. Jurisdictional Requirements

Under the Judiciary Act of 2011 (Cartiorari Act), the Supreme Cart has “exclusive jurisdiction of all food carts, trucks, and other transitory alimentary establishments.” Rule of Procedure 1-2 explains that the Cart’s jurisdiction extends to “all mobile gastronomic enterprises situated throughout those parts of (a) the County of Arlington, Virginia, (b) the District of Columbia, and (c) the City of Alexandria, Virginia, which are reasonably proximate to public transportation of a reasonably rapid and efficient character.”

It is undisputed that Heidelberg is located in Arlington, Virginia. Heidelberg’s accessibility by public transportation is also not being challenged. Heidelberg is along Metrobus lines 3A and 3Y. Alternatively, it is a healthy 30 minute walk from the Ballston Metro. The determination of jurisdiction in this case depends on the outcome of one question: Is Heidelberg’s barbecue cart a “mobile gastronomic enterprise”? This single question raises two more questions. First, is Heidelberg’s barbecue cart an enterprise? Second, is the barbecue cart mobile?

1. Heidelberg’s Barbecue Cart Is an Enterprise

Heidelberg’s barbecue cart is not the first food cart considered by this Court. In In re China Garden, 5 Catt. 1 (2012), the Cart denied jurisdiction to a dim sum pushcart that operated inside a Chinese restaurant because the pushcart was not equipped to serve outside the walls of the restaurant. Consequently, the pushcart could not properly be considered an independent enterprise. Unlike China Garden, Heidelberg’s barbecue cart can – and in fact, does – serve outside the walls of Heidelberg’s shop. Also indicating that the barbecue cart is an enterprise on its own, customers can complete transactions with the barbecue cart without ever stepping inside Heidelberg’s shop. Customers do not place orders using the shop’s normal practice of issuing deli ticket numbers. Rather, customers merely get in line in front of the cart, just as customers get in line in front of a food truck. Moreover, the barbecue cart is equipped with its own payment system, so customer may pay the staff at the barbecue cart and need not interact with the cashiers inside Heidelberg’s shop. Because the barbecue cart serves customers completely, and separately from Heidelberg’s shop, it is an enterprise.

2. Heidelberg’s Barbecue Cart Is Mobile

Although Heidelberg’s barbecue cart is consistently located in the same spot in front of Heidelberg’s shop, the cart is very much mobile. It must move to that spot and, after lunch service, move away from that spot. The selection of the same spot every Saturday does not make the barbecue cart immobile and permanently affixed to the ground. Cf. In re Maine Avenue Fish Market, 11 Catt. 3 (2012) (denying jurisdiction to a barge that was permanently docked in the same spot). Consider also that a mobile food truck could choose to park in the same neighborhood, on the same street, in the same spot, and it would still qualify as a mobile gastronomic enterprise. Indeed, at least one food truck in the Cart’s jurisdiction does this. See In re El Chilango, 12 Catt. 2 (2012) (reviewing a food truck that parks along the same residential street in Rosslyn, Virginia). What is true for a food truck must be true for a food cart.

Since Heidelberg’s barbecue cart is a mobile gastronomic enterprise, as that term is interpreted by this Court, the barbecue cart is within our jurisdiction and may be reviewed.

B. Street Food

The Supreme Cart distinguishes between food that is “street” in nature and food that is not. “Street food” is defined as “the kind[] . . . that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011). The Cart determines whether a dish is street food based on a “multifactor test,” including factors like whether the dish is traditionally considered to be street food. In re Hot People Food, 6 Catt. 4 (2012).

The Cart previously used a dish’s status as street food (or not as street food) to determine where the burden of proof in a case fell. Street food was given a presumption of affirmance, shifting the burden to the Cart to show that the dish was significantly flawed. Food held not to be “street” was given no presumption, and the dish had to stand on its own merits. This framework, however, led to inconsistent and unsatisfactory results. For example, street food dishes that the Justices did not wish to eat again were affirmed. So the Cart turned away from this framework. See In re Kohinoor Dhaba, 32 Catt. 1 (2014).

Although the Cart has moved away from the burden of proof framework of street food, whether a dish qualifies as street food is still crucial to the analysis by this Court. It has been suggested by at least one food truck owner that good mobile gastronomy is not related to whether a dish is street, but whether it is out of the ordinary and gourmet. In other words, not “normal.” The Cart agrees that mobile gastronomy can benefit from unusual menu offerings, but strongly disagrees that it must be “gourmet.” What is gourmet food? What is normal food? And why is normal food inferior to gourmet food? In this Cart’s view, there is only one kind of food that’s good, and that’s good food.

Serving something other than street food on the street ignores that the street vendor is offering not just an alternative choice in food, but an alternative choice in dining experience. The street eater typically eats while on the move, while sitting on the nearest park bench or building steps, while leaning against a ledge as a makeshift table. The experience is different from a sit-down meal at a full-service or fast-casual restaurant, different from carryout brought back to the office cafeteria or eaten at one’s desk. The food ought to embrace, not disregard, the environment in which it will be eaten, just like how a Frank Lloyd Wright house fits into the natural world around it.

Food truck fans in the area seem to agree that street vendors ought to serve street food. The DMV Food Truck Awards winner for Food Truck of the Year, Best New Food Truck, and Breakthrough Dish was Arepa Zone, a Venezulan food truck that serves sandwiches made with grilled corn patties. Arepas are not known for being gourmet. They are loved for their “simplicity and versatility” and are “popular go-to food.” They are eaten daily. They are—you guessed it—street food.

Bratwurst vendor in Berlin, Germany

Although this Cart will no longer grant a presumption in favor of affirmance for street food, a dish’s status as street food will be factored positively in its review. This is especially true for dishes that are considered to be street food in their countries of origin, like arepas in Venezuela, crepes in France, panipuri from India, and, relevant to the present case, bratwurst in Germany. The endurance of such dishes over time—much longer than the food truck trend in the United States—is a sign that they are suited to the dining needs and wants of a street eater.

C. Heidelberg’s Bratwurst and Weisswurst

Having determined that the Supreme Cart may properly exercise jurisdiction over Heidelberg’s barbecue cart and that the sausages on the cart’s menu are street food, I can now turn to the merits of the barbecue cart’s offerings. To properly review a sausage, this Cart must give consideration to the (1) casing, (2) preparation, (3) texture, and (4) taste. See In re Tops American Food Company, 12 Catt. 1 (2012); In re PORC, 4 Catt. 1 (2011).

I ordered the bratwurst and weisswurst from the barbecue cart. A wurst on a roll with sauerkraut is $6.50. Heidelberg’s sausages are sourced from Baltimore-based Binkert’s, a family business that specializes in traditional German meat products.

Bratwurst on a roll with sauerkraut and mustard

Of the various sausages listed on the menu, the bratwurst, or brat, is probably known best to the American palate. Heidelberg’s version was made with pork. The casing on the bratwurst was excellent. The snap that my teeth achieved upon first bite exceeded all expectations. Moreover, no fault could be found with Heidelberg’s preparation of the brat. The sausage was grilled with care and expertise—it was not dry, it was not overcooked. The slightly coarse texture of the sausage made every bite feel satisfyingly meaty. The flavor was pleasant and agreeable. This was a sausage made for no one to dislike.

The weisswurst is a relatively new sausage for me. I was first introduced to the weisswurst only a few months ago while on a trip to Bavaria. Heidelberg’s version of the white sausage, made with veal, shared the same positives that the brat exhibited: a good snap, nice browning from the grill. The texture was finer than the brat though, and smoother too. I didn’t mind the textural change, as it made the sausage seem even juicier. The flavor of the veal sausage was also on the mild side, but this made the sausage the perfect vehicle to let one’s choice of mustard shine. (Heidelberg had spicy deli mustard on hand at the barbecue cart.)

Weisswurst and sauerkraut

I liked the weisswurst and saw no issue with its preparation. I’m told by my law clerk, however, that I should have objected to the grilled weisswurst. Weisswurst is traditionally prepared the way I first experienced it in Bavaria: boiled, not grilled, and served with a soft, and preferably large, pretzel. Not having been raised with this tradition, and being a devotee of a good snap in a sausage, the grill marks on the weisswurst were beautiful to me, not sacrilegious.

Conclusion

I was so impressed with the quality of the bratwurst and weisswurst from Heidelberg’s barbecue cart that I was unable to leave without purchasing a few packs of sausage to take home. Even on a grill pan on my electric cooktop at home, the sausages were spectacular. (A third type of sausage, the bauernwurst, meaning “farmer sausage,” was a surprise hit for me. The sausage—made with pork, beef, and whole mustard seeds—was smoky, spicy, and incredibly juicy.)

Heidelberg sells Binkert’s German sausages in its deli case all year long, but to get one off the grill from the outdoor barbecue cart, you only have one month left. Go.

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

The aroma of freshly fried chicken wafting from Henhouse’s window promised a satisfying lunch. Unfortunately, Henhouse didn’t deliver on that promise.

Henhouse

Henhouse, a truck painted as bright as a red barn after a fresh spring coat, serves the classics you’d expect to find at your local neighborhood joint. Besides fried chicken, choices include crispy chicken and fish sandwiches, chicken tenders, chicken wings, and fried shrimp. If Henhouse were a brick-and-mortar diner, it would be the kind of place where Guy Fieri would show up for a taping of Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. This mental association with Mr. Fieri perhaps should have been my first clue of probable disappointment. (Mr. Fieri and I disagree over diners in the area. He liked Metro 29 Diner. I think Metro 29 Diner is to McDonald’s what the Washington Post’s Tom Sietsema thinks La Tagliatella is to the Olive Garden.)

Street Food Test

This court has consistently held that sandwiches are street food. See, e.g., In re Wassub, 13 Catt. 1 (2012); In re Borinquen Lunch Box, 10 Catt. 3 (2012); In re Rolling Ficelle, 6 Catt. 3 (2012). Because Henhouse’s chicken sandwich qualifies as street food, I am bound to affirm this case unless I can demonstrate a significant flaw with the sandwich. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012) (explaining the burden of proof for cases before the Supreme Cart). I can.

Chicken Sandwich ($6.99)

Chicken Sandwich

I ordered Henhouse’s chicken sandwich, which came with lettuce and mayo. This very basic combination was disappointing. Even the comparable chicken sandwich from McDonald’s offers tomato. Or a pickle would have been nice.

Of the bun used for Henhouse’s sandwich, I will only say that it was as fresh and soft as a supermarket bun can be. It was neither so good nor so bad to warrant anything further.

The actual size of the chicken in the sandwich was a pleasant surprise. The large, thick cut extended well past the edges of the bun. The sandwich had enough meat, in fact, that it was sufficient for a meal without the addition of a side dish, like fries or cole slaw.

While Henhouse’s chicken got high marks on quantity, it fell short on quality. The chicken was fried well (crispy, not dry), but it was not seasoned well. It was just very, very bland. Henhouse provided condiments (e.g., barbecue sauce, hot sauce) that would have added much-needed flavor, but condiments should not be relied on to mask a poorly executed chicken. See also In re Bada Bing, 5 Catt. 2 (2012). Condiments should not be expected to fix any foodstuff. See In re Mac’s Donuts, 26 Catt. 1 (2013).

So, for its bland chicken, the case must be

REMANDED to Henhouse for revision. It is so ordered.

Peruvian Brothers

Opinion of JUSTICE CATTLEYA, in chambers.

Peruvian Brothers has a lot to celebrate. Earlier this week, it marked its one-year anniversary. Earlier this month, USA Today named it one of the District’s top 10 food trucks. It was also voted this month by Washington City Paper’s readers as the best food truck of 2014.

One look at the truck, and it’s easy to see why food truck aficionados have taken a liking to Peruvian Brothers. In a field crowded with kabobs and Asian fusion dishes, its Peruvian offerings are something different. It also has the frills of a business that seems to have considered all of the details, like sleek white food boxes sealed with brand-popping logo stickers and a website with images that look straight out of a professional photo shoot. 

Of course, none of that matters here in the halls of justice. All that matters is the food. Good food remains good even if prepared by a little-known purveyor or served in plain packaging. And, of course, bad food remains bad even if it comes from a popular purveyor or in fancy packaging.

Branded packaging

Fortunately, Peruvian Brothers is not trying to hide bad food behind its pretty exterior. The food—I had the Empanada de Pollo and Chancaca Bread Pudding—was good. Quite good in the case of the latter.

Before I can elaborate on the empanada and bread pudding, I must address where the burden of proof lies in each case. Because empanadas are true street food, I must affirm Peruvian Brothers’ empanada unless I can prove a significant flaw. On the other hand, bread pudding does not meet this court’s definition of street food, so this dish must prove its own merits. See In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011) (defining street food as “the kind[] . . . that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up”); In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012) (discussing the burden of proof for street food); see also In re Caribbean Café Truck, 21 Catt. 1 (2013) (explaining that empanadas are street food).

Now on to the food.

Empanada de Pollo

Peruvian Brothers serves its Empanada de Pollo with wedges of fresh lime and a light dusting of powdered sugar, as is traditionally done in Peru. The pastry achieved a beautiful golden color and flakiness, and it was neither too thick nor too thin compared with the meat filling that it encased. While the powdered sugar initially seemed out of place, it added a little sweetness to the otherwise savory dish. The effect wasn’t memorable enough, however, to say that it was an essential component, and I would have been just as satisfied without it.

For me, the best bite of the empanada was not the first one, but the second. The first bite broke through the pastry and exposed the chicken filling, allowing it to be doused with lime juice. The lime added a tangy finish and a little moisture to the second bite. The chicken filling needed it. Although well-seasoned and tasty, it leaned on the dry side. This was more likely due to the style of preparation (chopped) of the chicken filling rather than to any execution problems by Peruvian Brothers. I must admit that I am not a fan of chopped meat. It’s texturally uninteresting. Even worse, chopped meat, especially when finely chopped, looks too much like canned pet food.

This unappetizing thought went away as soon as I put a spoonful of Chancaca bread pudding into my mouth. My thoughts quickly turned to the syrupy treat. This was no boring, dry bread pudding. Soft and moist bread was soaked through with the taste of honey, cinnamon, and cloves. Walnuts and raisins were mixed in and added texture. It was wonderfully rich and filling.

. . . So much so that half of it was enough. As bread pudding is naturally heavy, the portion size seemed too large. Luckily, Peruvian Brothers serves the bread pudding in a resealable plastic container that can be stored in the fridge for a second round. It’s worth doing this, even if you’re hungry enough to finish it off in one sitting. Somehow, the bread pudding manages to be even better the next day.

For the reasons above, Peruvian Brothers’ Empanada de Pollo and Chancaca Bread Pudding are

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

If you’ve ever gone out for barbeque in the area during the last 20 or so years, chances are you’ve been to (or at the very least thought about going to) Rocklands. From 1990 to 2007, Rocklands opened four brick and mortar locations throughout the District, Virginia, and Maryland. Then, in early 2013, Rocklands launched a food truck.

Rocklands food truck, off the road for the day.

Once Rocklands added wheels to its operations, this Supreme Cart gained jurisdiction to review not only the food truck but also the brick and mortar locations. See SUNdeVICH v. SUNdeVICH, 22 Catt. 1 (2013) (extending the Cart’s jurisdiction to “a brick-and-mortar restaurant that concurrently operates a food cart or truck when that brick-and-mortar offers the same menu items as the food cart or truck”). With the choice of several locations, I picked a non-mobile one (the brick and mortar in Arlington) over the mobile one because (1) my visit fell on a bitterly cold day, and more importantly, (2) the truck was closed and parked outside in the lot.

Looking at the menu, I immediately noticed an advantage in choosing to dine at one of the brick and mortar locations rather than the food truck. While the truck’s menu rotates side dishes and typically offers only a couple per day, the restaurant menu has a line-up of over ten options, including must-have barbecue sides like coleslaw, macaroni and cheese, baked beans, and potato salad. I found it difficult to pass on the plethora of side dishes and made a meal out of a few: corn pudding, cucumber salad, macaroni salad, and cornbread.

Everything on my plate was perfectly fine, but only the cornbread made me pause and savor. It was sweet, light, fluffy, and moist. The scoop of corn pudding—a baked mash of creamed corn, cornmeal, onion, and cheese—was soft, but not quite creamy. The salad of cucumber, red onion, and mint, with a simple dressing of oil and vinegar, met its promise of a crunchy and refreshing side, but it seemed to skimp on the red onion and mint. The macaroni salad was the most forgettable. The noodles were not overcooked and still had a nice bite, but the salad tasted heavy on mustard and was a little dry.

This court has already held that a barbeque platter with sides is not street food. See In re BBQ Bus, 20 Catt. 1 (2013); see also In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011) (defining street food). Therefore, to affirm, Rocklands’s barbeque sides must prove their own worth. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012) (discussing burden of proof). For the reasons stated above, not all of the sides considered today have met the burden of proof.

The case is

AFFIRMED in part and REMANDED in part to Rocklands for revision. It is so ordered.

Astro Doughnuts & Fried Chicken

Last week I reviewed the crème brûlée doughnut from Astro Doughnuts & Fried Chicken. See In re Astro Doughnuts & Fried Chicken, 28 Catt. 2 (2014). Today I turn my attention to Astro’s Nutella doughnut.

Menu Chalkboard

When I first stood in front of Astro’s menu chalkboard, I paused for a moment and pretended to weigh the options. In reality, I knew that I was going to order a crème brûlée doughnut because it had become the breakout star of Astro’s menu. It has been reported that Astro’s shop goes through as many as 4,000 crème brûlée doughnuts per week. It was my duty, I felt, to review it. For my second doughnut (of course there had to be a second), I was determined to pick a flavor for no one but myself. And my stomach only had eyes for the Nutella doughnut.

Nutella and I are a dangerous pair. My deep love for it has led to its banishment from my home. It can have no place in my cupboard, or else I would spread it on bananas for breakfast, infuse it into hot chocolate for second breakfast, add it into a crêpe for elevenses, melt it into ice cream after lunch, pair it with shortbread cookies for afternoon tea, bake it into brownies after dinner, and eat a spoonful—straight up—after supper. (Yes, I follow the meal schedule of a hobbit.)

Nutella Doughnut ($2.50)

Overall, Astro’s Nutella doughnut was glad-I-tried-it good, but not must-have-it-again great.

Crème Brûlée & Nutella Doughnuts

The good: The Nutella glaze was silky, creamy, and stuck to your fingers in the best kind of way. It was the complete opposite of the cold and stiff glaze on Entenmann’s Rich Frosted Donuts (my personal favorite as a junk-food-loving kid), which typically cracked and fell apart when I bit into it. Flavor-wise, Astro’s Nutella flavoring was strong and rich and tasted unmistakably like chocolate and hazelnut. Astro even garnished the donut with hazelnuts, but the visual clue to the flavoring was wholly unnecessary, as the sweet scent of Nutella filled my senses even before my first bite.

The not-so-good: The doughnut was much too dense. Instead of a light and fluffy doughnut, or even a heavier yet moist cake doughnut, Astro’s Nutella doughnut was very bready. Texturally, it was not what I expected, or wanted. See also In re Pho Wheels, 24 Catt. 1 (2013) (finding Astro doughnut, used for a sandwich, to be thick and dry).

Conclusion

Because Astro’s Nutella doughnut is not street food, the doughnut must prove its own merits. See In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011) (defining street food); In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012) (discussing burden of proof); Astro Doughnuts & Fried Chicken, 28 Catt. 2 (holding Astro’s doughnut not to be street food). Although the Nutella flavoring was spot on, the doughnut’s bready texture was a significant shortcoming, and so the case is

AFFIRMED in part and REMANDED in part to Astro Doughnuts & Fried Chicken for revision.

A new breakfast option has come to my neighborhood. This was welcomed news to me, as I don’t live in a particularly exciting neighborhood. While other Justices have settled in hip neighborhoods—Chief Justice Jeremy, for example, calls Adams Morgan home and Justice Sonia Sotomayor of the Supreme Court lives off of U Street—I chose Rosslyn in Northern Virginia. The first metro stop outside of the District, Rosslyn is conveniently situated to get to great eateries in D.C. and Virginia. But Rosslyn itself isn’t filled with many gastronomic gems—whether mobile or brick-and-mortar—at present. (By my count, there may just be two: El Chilango and Pho 75.)

Astro Doughnuts & Fried Chicken

So I was pleased to see a food truck called Astro Doughnuts & Fried Chicken lined up on N. Lynn Street one recent morning. A note upfront: Despite the name, the food truck does not currently serve fried chicken. For that, you have to go to Astro’s brick-and-mortar shop in D.C. near Metro Center. The truck, which has been making regular visits to Rosslyn, Clarendon, and Ballston, serves up the same doughnut flavors that are available in the shop that day. On the morning I visited, there were eight offerings. I chose to try crème brûlée (an “everyday” flavor on Astro’s menu) and Nutella (a “monthly” flavor). This opinion reviews the crème brûlée. I will review the Nutella doughnut in a companion case, In re Astro Doughnuts & Fried Chicken, 28 Catt. 3 (2014).

Astro’s crème brûlée flavor has been very well received by doughnut eaters in the area. Last summer, it was crowned the winner of the Washington Post Food Section’s Dozen Week of Doughnuts competition. It was also named one of the fifty must-try dishes by the Washington City Paper. It has wowed customers and critics alike. Will it do the same for a Cart Justice?

Street Food Test

Before I can review the crème brûlée doughnut, I must address whether the doughnut is true street food and is therefore entitled to the presumption of affirmance by this court. See In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011) (defining street food); In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012) (discussing burden of proof). The crème brûlée doughnut is not street food. While doughnuts from another food truck have satisfied this court’s test for street food, those doughnuts were freshly made in front of the customer. See In re Mama’s Donut Bites, 18 Catt. 1 (2013). The doughnut in this case, on the other hand, is very similar to the dish that first inspired our street food test. That is, Astro’s doughnuts are made at their shop, loaded on to the food truck, and then bagged and handed to customers—sometimes several hours after they were first made. However, for the reasons below, Astro’s crème brûlée doughnut needs no presumption and excels on its own.

Crème Brûlée & Nutella Doughnuts

Crème Brûlée Doughnut ($2.85)

Astro’s crème brûlée doughnut is a vanilla glazed doughnut with an exterior coat of caramelized sugar and a vanilla custard filling. It is, of course, inspired by the classic French dessert. As a dessert-inspired doughnut, it is, as one might expect, very sweet. It is probably too sweet for those who dislike sugary treats in their stomachs first thing in the morning. Luckily, I do not have that problem. (I often eat cake, cookies, and pie for breakfast because, well, why wait till later?)

I must confess that crème brûlée does not top my wish list of desserts. I rarely select it from restaurant menus. But after catching a glimpse of the doughnut in Astro’s display case, I couldn’t resist. The main visual lure for me—the hard shell of caramelized sugar—lived up to my expectations. No, it beat my expectations.

The crème brûlée doughnut was texturally exquisite. The teeth first met a crunchy layer of scorched sugar, then bit through the soft center, and ended in a pool of cool, creamy, thick vanilla custard. The variety of textures made for one memorable bite.

If I had to nitpick at something, it would be the timidity of the vanilla flavoring in the custard. The hint of vanilla was detectable, but without a more aggressive touch, it bordered on bland. But this didn’t detract too much from my enjoyment of Astro’s otherwise outstanding creation.

For its creativity and near-perfect execution, Astro’s crème brûlée doughnut is

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

This month, exactly one year ago, classic and comforting fare came to Washington, D.C. courtesy of Capital Chicken & Waffles (“CCW”). I speak, of course, of chicken and waffles. On a very cold winter day—the sort of day when only comfort food could warm you up—the Justices of this Cart turned to CCW to do just that.

Capital Chicken & Waffles

Thus far, comfort food has had a bumpy ride on the streets of the nation’s capital. The Peanut Butter Jelly Time truck, for example, closed just after two months of business. More recently, the macaroni-and-cheese-making CapMac closed after three years last November, though the truck plans to reopen this year under new ownership. The history of comfort food trucks before this tribunal is perhaps even bumpier. CapMac’s Classic CapMac’n Cheese was the first dish that this court ever remanded for revision. See In re CapMac, 1 Catt. 1 (2011). Then, not one but two versions of the classic grilled cheese from the Big Cheese truck were remanded by the Chief Justice. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012).

This should not be interpreted to mean that we Justices dislike comfort food. For my part, I am incapable of saying no to chicken fried steak with sausage gravy. And while the regular reader might think that the Chief Justice’s tastes are too highbrow for classic comfort food, many a times we met over corned beef hash when we first crossed paths in law school all those years ago. No, we have no aversion to comfort food. How could we when we have dedicated our life’s work to food and the justness of its preparation?

That being said, it does not need to be said that we approached CCW with eagerness (but, look, I have said it anyway). Although CCW offers other comfort food fare like chili, we Justices went for and wanted nothing but chicken and waffles. Upon walking up to CCW’s menu board, however, we encountered an unexpected delay in getting what we wanted. The words “chicken and waffles” were confusingly absent from the menu. Instead, the menu spoke of a “Classic Combo,” a “Boat Combo,” and a “Meal Combo.” One might argue that the words need not appear on the menu, as they are in the truck’s name. (I note that this argument would not entirely satisfy because, on the flip side, “fish sandwich” and the aforementioned chili appear on the menu, but they are not in the truck’s name.)

Without any descriptions of the combos, we (i.e., first-timers) could not make an informed meal selection. After some discussion with CCW’s fine staff, we learned that a Boat Combo offered a smaller portion of chicken and waffles than a Classic Combo, and a Meal Combo was a Classic Combo but with the addition of two sides and a drink. I imagine from the staff’s speedy response that we were not the first to ask about the differences between the combos. I would suggest, if only to save the staff the trouble of answering the same question daily, that CCW might want to explain on the menu board exactly what comes with each combo (e.g., how many pieces of chicken).

Boat Combo

We opted for a Boat Combo ($6.39 plus sales tax), which consisted of three pieces of chicken over a long, oval-shaped waffle. Because chicken and waffles are not “street food” under our jurisprudence, no presumption in favor of CCW’s chicken and waffles arises and CCW bears the burden to prove the merits of its offering. See In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011) (defining street food); In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012) (discussing burden of proof).

Let’s start with the chicken. The fried chicken in CCW’s chicken and waffles were of the boneless strip variety, and not of the breast/wing/thigh/leg variety. Although the chicken strips were underseasoned, generous applications of our accompanying sauce (we chose honey mustard) hid this oversight. Less easy to ignore was the thin breading on the chicken. CCW didn’t quite achieve the crisp, bite-worthy exterior that one looks for when eating battered, deep fried chicken.

Textural issues were experienced with the waffle as well. Although we topped the waffle with a generous amount of maple syrup, the waffle, unfortunately, was soft and somehow soggy before we added the syrup. Part of the issue seemed structural — the long, oval-shaped waffle boat did not maximize its number of potential pockets (each pocket ran the length of a full row of the waffle boat). Thus, CCW’s waffle boat did not maximize its potential for wonderfully crisp surface space. For the eater who likes her waffles to be soft in the center and crispy on the outside, with pockets and pockets to be filled up with maple syrup, CCW’s waffle boat missed the mark.

To be clear, CCW’s chicken and waffles weren’t bad. They were edible, more than edible, and indeed, we ate it all. CCW’s version just wasn’t that great. It felt less like homecooked food and more like reheated food, less like mom and pop shop and more like IHOP.

REMANDED to Capital Chicken & Waffles for revision.

I am called upon today to decide the case of Mac’s Donuts (“MD”). MD is a food cart that sets up shop every Saturday morning at the Courthouse Farmers’ Market in Arlington, VA. When I learned that this food cart serves fresh apple cider donuts on a day when most food trucks and carts in the area are closed, I jumped at the chance for a much-needed weekend mobile gastronomic treat.

Mac’s Donuts

 I. MAC’S DONUTS

MD’s signature menu item is its “Stick-o-Donuts,” a skewer of six mini apple cider donuts. In fact, it has received a lot of excellent attention for this. See Jessica Voelker, The Great Doughnut Derby: We Have a Winner, Best Bites, April 23, 2013; Sarah Anne Hughes, The 11 Best Doughnuts in the D.C. Area, DCist, November 6, 2013.

If I had not already known that MD had an apple cider donut on its menu, I would have known as soon as I walked into the parking lot where the Courthouse Farmer’s Market is held. Even though MD was three or four food stands away from the entrance, I was immediately surrounded by the rich and inviting scent of apples and sugar.

I had fully intended to get the apple cider donuts. I didn’t think there was anything else on MD’s menu. But on the day of my visit, there was. At the bottom of MD’s menu board was written “croissant donut.” I was told that they has been made just minutes ago, and when I asked which menu item was best for a first timer, I was pointed to the croissant donut. I took the recommendation.

II. STANDARD OF REVIEW

This Court has already held that donuts are true street food. Mama’s Donut Bites, 18 Catt. 1 (2013); see also In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011) (defining street food as “the kind[] . . . that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up”). Thus, MD’s croissant donut is entitled to the presumption of affirmance, unless I show a serious flaw with the deep-fried treat. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012). As explained below, I affirm in part and remand in part for revision.

Croissant Donut

 III. CROISSANT DONUT ($2)

While the craze-starting Cronut from NYC’s Dominique Ansel Bakery is filled with cream, coated in sugar, and topped with glaze, MD’s version of the half-croissant, half-donut treat was, in comparison, rather plain. I didn’t take advantage of MD’s powdered sugar station, expecting the croissant donut to be served in a complete, ready-to-devour state. I typically view stations with powdered sugar, syrup, sprinkles, etc. the way that I view salt on the dinner table – I shouldn’t have to use it unless something has gone wrong. Unfortunately, without that sugary dusting, MD’s croissant donut lacked flavor and sweetness.

Texturally, however, MD’s croissant donut was more successful. The crisp exterior lent a beautiful bite, and the inside was soft and had visible layers of dough. While I can’t really say that it was light (is it even possible to be?), it certainly wasn’t greasy.

IV. CONCLUSION

I found it satisfying to walk around on a clear, chilly fall morning — cold enough for a coat, but not enough yet for a scarf — with a warm croissant donut in one hand and hot apple cider in the other. MD’s croissant donut was not the best version in the area. (I don’t know what is, but a very surprising contender comes from a trained French pastry chef who runs a small Filipino grocery/hot food bar in Arlington called Philippine Oriental Market.) Still, MD’s croissant donut was not a complete disappointment. From a textural standpoint, it was executed well. I just would have liked to see some embellishment to enhance the flavor.

AFFIRMED in part and REMANDED in part to Mac’s Donuts for revision. It is so ordered.

On a recent brisk morning, I reported to the doctor’s office for my annual physical exam. Unlike the yearly check-ups for the President, the results of our check-ups are not routinely released to the public. So, I am happy to personally report that — despite the rigorous eating involved in my role as a Justice of this Supreme Cart — my good cholesterol is high and my bad cholesterol is low.

I was reveling in the news of my good health when I passed a new food cart on my way back to the court. Feeling like my clean bill of health had earned me any meal of my choosing, I approached the cart with excitement — and without any thought of the turkey sandwich in my lunch bag.

Mediterranean Halal Food

MEDITERRANEAN HALAL FOOD

The cart was Mediterranean Halal Food (“MHF”). It was set up near the Clarendon metro station, where it can be found Monday to Friday during lunch hours. MHF’s menu was simple: two meat choices (chicken or lamb) presented in three different ways (on a pita, over salad, or over rice). Regardless of your meat choice, gyros are $4.99, salad platters are $5.99, and rice platters are $6.99. Rice platters include a can of soda.

Before I could make a decision, the friendly faces inside the cart offered me a sample. I expected a hand to reach through the window with a toothpick sticking through a little piece of chicken or lamb — much like the way restaurants in food courts hand out samples of General Tso’s chicken on toothpicks. But what I received was a small bowl with cuts of lamb on the left and pieces of chicken on the right, all over a mound of rice. It was too generous to be called a sample. After finishing it, I placed a full order of lamb over rice.

TRUE STREET FOOD

This reviewing court has repeatedly held that lamb over rice is not “street food.” See, e.g., In re Mediterranean Delights, 20 Catt. 2 (2013); In re NY Famous Kabob, 7 Catt. 3 (2012). Because the dish under consideration today is not recognized as street food, MHF’s lamb over rice is not entitled to the presumption of affirmance by this court. In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012); In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011) (defining street food as “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up”). Instead, the dish must prove itself. And it does.

Lamb over Rice

LAMB OVER RICE

Although I have tried many lamb over rice platters during my time on the Cart, I was surprised and impressed by MHF’s version. It had all the usual components (i.e., lamb, rice, a salad of iceberg lettuce and tomato, plus white and red sauces), but it executed them in a skilled and caring way.

The shaved lamb was flavorful, juicy, and tender. While I usually prefer thicker slices, the thinly shaved meat soaked up the white and red sauces perfectly (more on the sauces below). The portion of meat was beyond generous. It covered almost the entire top of my Styrofoam container.

Just as much thought was put into the rice. It was oily in the most decadent and mouthwatering way, and it was mixed in with very visible caraway seeds. I could have eaten bowls and bowls of that rice alone.

The details carried into the sauces. They held the right thickness and were not watered down. The white sauce was generously speckled with dill, and the red sauce had a real kick. The cool and spicy sauces made every bite a delectable torment, so much so that I ate long past the point of being full.

CONCLUSION

MHF’s lamb over rice is not just a lot of food; it’s a lot of good food at a bargain price. I will definitely return for more.

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

Captain Cookie & The Milkman is a DC-based food truck. Thomas Foolery is not. This brick and mortar hangout near Dupont Circle, however, serves Captain Cookie’s ice cream sandwiches. The question before the Supreme Cart is whether we have jurisdiction to review Captain Cookie’s ice cream sandwiches sold at Thomas Foolery.

I. Jurisdiction

The Judiciary Act of 2011 (Cartiorari Act) grants the Supreme Cart “exclusive jurisdiction of all food carts, trucks, and other transitory alimentary establishments.” Our Rule of Procedure 1-2 explains that this grant extends to “all mobile gastronomic enterprises situated throughout those parts of (a) the County of Arlington, Virginia, (b) the District of Columbia, and (c) the City of Alexandria, Virginia, which are reasonably proximate to public transportation of a reasonably rapid and efficient character.”

It is clear that this court has jurisdiction to review ice cream sandwiches sold by Captain Cookie’s food truck. The food truck is a mobile bakery that sets up near several metro stops in the DC area. It is less clear whether we have jurisdiction to review Captain Cookie’s ice cream sandwiches served at Thomas Foolery, a brick and mortar establishment. Although the text of our guiding legislation seems to suggest that jurisdiction is lacking, our case law prevents such an incomplete and rushed conclusion.

This court has twice before granted jurisdiction to review foodstuffs from brick and mortar sellers. First, in In re Curbside Cupcakes Kiosk, 20 Catt. 4 (2013), we exercised jurisdiction over cupcakes sold at a stationary kiosk located in the food court of a shopping mall. The kiosk was affiliated with a food truck (Curbside Cupcakes) that was within the Cart’s jurisdiction, and it offered the same cupcakes as the food truck. Then, in SUNdeVICH v. SUNdeVICH, 22 Catt. 1 (2013), and its companion case, In re SUNdeVICH, 22 Catt. 2 (2013), we extended the Cart’s jurisdiction to review sandwiches from a brick and mortar restaurant because it concurrently operated a food truck, and it either offered the same sandwiches as the food truck or offered different sandwiches under the same branding as the food truck. These two cases show that “[e]ven if a gastronomic enterprise is not mobile, the Cart may exercise jurisdiction over it by virtue of its relationship with a mobile gastronomic enterprise that is within our jurisdiction.” SUNdeVICH, 22 Catt. 1.

However, the case before us is not like the brick and mortar establishments that we have reviewed in the past. The brick and mortars shared “sisterly” relationships with food trucks, as they were operated by a single entity as part of a united business model. Here, the nature of the relationship between the brick and mortar (Thomas Foolery) and the food truck (Captain Cookie) is different. They are separate business entities. By mutual agreement, Thomas Foolery includes on its menu ice cream sandwiches from Captain Cookie.

Because our legislation and case law provide little guidance, we look to the law of another high court in this land. We are ultimately persuaded by the Original Package Doctrine, announced by the U.S. Supreme Court in Maryland v. Brown, 25 U.S. (12 Wheat.)  419 (1827). In Brown, the Court found that a good that moved from one state to another state remained under federal control if the good was sold in its original package or form. Similarly, we hold that the Supreme Cart has jurisdiction over a food truck’s dish that moves to a distinct brick and mortar business if the dish is subsequently sold to the customer in the same package or form as intended by the food truck.

Here, Captain Cookie’s ice cream sandwiches move from its food truck to Thomas Foolery, a distinct brick and mortar business. Moreover, Thomas Foolery sells the ice cream sandwiches in the package or form intended by Captain Cookie. The customer can create the same custom ice cream sandwiches at Thomas Foolery as he or she can from Captain Cookie’s food truck. For the same price of $4, the customer chooses from the same selection of cookie and ice cream flavors. Thomas Foolery then combines the two cookies and ice cream scoop into a sandwich the same way that Captain Cookie does (i.e., cookie-ice cream-cookie). What is more, not only does Thomas Foolery serve sandwiches made from the same cookies and ice creams, but it makes clear that the ice cream sandwiches on its menu come from Captain Cookie. See Thomas Foolery’s website here and here. Because Thomas Foolery sells ice cream sandwiches in the form intended by Captain Cookie and packaged with Captain Cookie’s name, this court has authority to review Captain Cookie’s ice cream sandwiches sold at Thomas Foolery.

II. True Street Food

Before we review the merits of Captain Cookie’s ice cream sandwiches, we must pause to determine the standard of review appropriate in this case. If a dish before the Cart is “street food,” then we must affirm the dish absent a significant flaw. In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012).

We have long defined street food as “the kind[] . . . that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011). We recognize that Oxford Dictionaries Online have very recently added “street food” to its digital pages, defining it as “prepared or cooked food sold by vendors in a street or other public location for immediate consumption.” Street Food, OXFORD DICTIONARIES ONLINE, oxforddictionaries.com (last visited August 28, 2013). However, we decline to amend our definition to follow ODO’s broader definition.

This Cart has already determined that ice cream is street food. See In re Sinplicity, 9 Catt. 3 (2012); In re Pleasant Pops, 21 Catt. 4 (2013). Sandwiches are also street food. See, e.g., A’ Lo Cubano, 22 Catt. 3 (2013), In re Borinquen Lunch Box, 10 Catt. 3 (2012); In re Hometown Heros, 14 Catt. 2 (2012); In re Kafta Mania, 17 Catt. 3 (2013); In re Lemongrass, 7 Catt. 1 (2012); In re Pepe, 13 Catt. 4 (2012); In re Red Hook Lobster Pound, 9 Catt. 1 (2012); In re Rolling Ficelle, 6 Catt. 3 (2012); In re Wassub, 13 Catt. 1 (2012); In re Willie’s Po’Boy, 7 Catt. 4 (2012). Ice cream sandwiches, then, must be street food too, and so Captain Cookie’s ice cream sandwiches at Thomas Foolery are entitled to the presumption of affirmance.

III. Captain Cookie’s Ice Cream Sandwiches

Custom ice cream sandwiches

At Thomas Foolery, little and big kids alike can create their own ice cream sandwiches by picking two cookies and one ice cream flavor. The menu includes flavors that are always available, plus special cookie and ice cream flavors daily. Everyday cookie flavors include chocolate chip, snickerdoodle, Nutella, peanut butter, and ginger molasses. Everyday ice creams include chocolate, vanilla, and black cherry. We created two ice cream sandwiches. First, we opted for Nutella cookies with vanilla ice cream. Second, we chose ginger molasses cookies with maple bacon ice cream, the daily ice cream special.

The Nutella cookies, we are happy to say, tasted like Nutella. They were chocolatey but not overwhelmingly sweet. The center was soft and chewy, while the outside had a nice, crisp shell. The ginger molasses cookies were rich while not too gingery. A beautiful coating of granulated sugar gave a nice bite. The ginger molasses cookies, however, were not as soft and chewy in the middle.

While the cookies off Captain Cookie’s food truck are often served hot out of the on-board oven, the cookies sold at Thomas Foolery are understandably less likely to be as fresh and warm. It turns out that this is a good thing for ice cream sandwiches, as the ice cream would melt too quickly against warm cookies. For photographic evidence, see here and here. To the very last bite, our ice cream sandwiches held up.

Little needs to be said about the vanilla ice cream. It was nothing more and nothing less than what we expected from vanilla ice cream. The maple bacon ice cream, on the other hand, was a surprise. It was decadent. To our delight, the ice cream was not merely flavored with bacon; it was chock-full of bacon pieces.

Although the ice cream between our cookies did not melt into a drippy puddle, it still made for slightly messy eating. Biting down on the cookies made the ice cream squish out the sides. However, because this was the result of a very, very generously-sized scoop of ice cream placed between the cookies, an ice cream lover such as I cannot truly complain.

IV. Conclusion

We enjoyed Captain Cookie’s ice cream sandwiches at Thomas Foolery. Our reader should not wonder whether an ice cream sandwich should be had, but rather which cookies and which ice cream should be combined together first.

AFFIRMED.

JEREMY, C.J., concurring.

I agree with my sister’s analysis of our case law. We undoubtedly have jurisdiction to consider a mobile gastronomic enterprise’s wares as openly purveyed by a separate brick and mortar. We may presume the offering is identical to that purveyed by the mobile gastronomic enterprise absent strong evidence to the contrary.

I agree also with my sister’s assessment of those of Captain Cookie’s ice cream sandwiches we had the opportunity to sample. I would note, however, that where my sister writes that “[b]iting down on the cookies made the ice cream squish out the sides,” she refers to her own experience. I, for one, am a rather dainty eater, with a touch as soft as a lace doily.

I would, however, go a step beyond my sister’s analysis. In my mind, we cannot grant jurisdiction to Captain Cookie through Thomas Foolery and yet ignore the question of Thomas Foolery itself. Thomas Foolery is housed in a basement on P Street, born out of the overwhelming donut smell of Zeke’s DC Donutz. It is nominally a bar, though its vibe is more like campus snack bars portrayed on shows like Boy Meets World and Saved By the Bell. That may be purposeful, as the entire place is centered around a campy nostalgia for the rough period 1985-1995. There are pogs to be played and Mario Kart to be won.

On the Sunday afternoon my sister and I visited Thomas Foolery, we were its only customers. Granted it was a Sunday afternoon, but, frankly, DC is a boozy enough town that we shouldn’t have been the only customers. That said, I did find that Thomas Foolery had one thing on the traditional food truck: a liquor license. Between the hours of 5:00pm and 7:00pm daily, there is an “Angry Hour,” in which $1 is deducted from the price of your libation if you order in an irate tone. (While I am not the world’s greatest thespian, I did find that a well placed swear word paired with an obscene IPA did the trick.) There are other rules too. (As a court of law, we tend to be enamored of rules.)

Other business took me back to Thomas Foolery the following Thursday. At that time, the space was teeming with patrons such that we had to wait for a table. For the price of my driver’s license, we played Cards Against Humanity while we imbibed and ate sandwiches from Big Cheese (verdict: better than the truck, but still mediocre and overpriced). Altogether a rather different experience than the previous Sunday. Time will tell whether the establishment will last, but it was, all in all, an entertaining evening and a lively venue.

And that, for what it’s worth, is Thomas Foolery.

SUNdeVICH is a sandwich shop that runs out of a converted garage in Naylor Court. It started out as a brick-and-mortar operation in 2011, and last year it launched a food truck.  This Court undoubtedly has jurisdiction to review sandwiches from SUNdeVICH’s food truck, but do we have jurisdiction to review sandwiches from the original brick-and-mortar shop?

SUNdeVICH (food truck)

JURISDICTION

Our case law tells us that the answer must be yes. In In re Pupatella, 8 Catt. 4 (2012),  we declined to extend jurisdiction to a brick-and-mortar restaurant that previously, but no longer, operated as a food cart. In that case, we “[left] open the question of whether this court’s jurisdiction extends to a brick-and-mortar restaurant that concurrently operates a food cart” or food truck. We revisited a variation of that question in In re Curbside Cupcakes Kiosk, 20 Catt. 4 (2013). There, we were confronted not with a traditional brick-and-mortar establishment, but with an indoor kiosk at a food court. We granted jurisdiction to the kiosk because Curbside Cupcakes “simultaneously operates food trucks within our jurisdiction and the kiosk vends the same cupcakes as the food trucks.”

SUNdeVICH (brick-and-mortar)

Today, we finally hold that this Supreme Cart has jurisdiction to review a brick-and-mortar restaurant that concurrently operates a food cart or truck when  that brick-and-mortar offers the same menu items as the food cart or truck. Here, the SUNdeVICH brick-and-mortar and food truck both offer gourmet sandwiches inspired by flavors found in cities across the globe. Although the food truck only offers about half of the brick-and-mortar’s twenty sandwiches, a visit to the food truck is representative of the brick-and-mortar and vice versa.

BRICK-AND-MORTAR v. FOOD TRUCK: MILAN SANDWICH

Having determined that we may properly review the sandwich offerings of SUNdeVICH’s brick-and-mortar, naturally we must ask whether the brick-and-mortar or the food truck is better. We address this question in the context of the Milan sandwich, which we ordered from both the permanent and mobile locations. SUNdeVICH classifies the Milan sandwich as a breakfast sandwich because it includes eggs, but it is appropriate at any time of the day. We had it for lunch twice. In addition to eggs, the Milan sandwich is comprised of pancetta, gorgonzola, arugula, and garlic mayo. It is served on a French style demi-baguette.

Milan sandwich (food truck)

Wow. The combination of flavors was perfect, and the sandwich was downright phenomenal. The bread was wonderfully crusty, the pancetta was salty, the arugula added pepperiness, and the gorgonzola was strong and creamy. And the egg! My brother and I are big fans of eggs. See In re Seoul Food, 3 Catt. 2 (2011) (affirming bibimbap with a perfectly-executed sunny side up egg). SUNdeVICH — both the brick-and-mortar and the food truck — met our high expectations for eggs. It made every bite a joy to eat.

So who made the better Milan sandwich? I am pleased to say that the brick-and-mortar and food truck executed the sandwich equally well. Consistency is highly valued in the food industry, and SUNdeVICH gets high marks. That being said, the Milan sandwich from the food truck wins out as a better deal. While the sandwich from the food truck was a little smaller in size, it was still a good-sized lunch portion. It was also cheaper, priced at $7 instead of the brick-and-mortar’s $10. Until Congress approves appropriations to pay for the business-related meals of the members of this Court, $10 will forever seem to me like a high price for a sandwich.

CONCLUSION

SUNdeVICH’s Milan sandwich is a masterpiece of delicious, fresh flavors. Get it for a reasonable $7 from the food truck if you can. If you can’t, the higher-priced (and larger) version from the brick-and-mortar is still worth it. You must try this at least once.

We granted cartiorari on the question of the “Guac Pop” by Pleasant Pops. (N.B.: Generally we abbreviate the mobile gastronomic enterprise’s name. For obvious reasons, and out of respect for the cart at issue, I will not do so here.)

Pleasant Pops began a few years ago when its co-founders sought to “combine the Mexican tradition of fresh fruit ice pops [‘paletas’] with local and sustainable agriculture from the greater D.C. area.” Their ensemble has since grown to 100 flavors, which appear to be trotted out on a seasonal basis.

The enterprise has since expanded to a brick-and-mortar (“B&M”) on Florida Avenue just off in a U Street, to a somewhat out-of-the-way stretch of shops which includes a gallery, a “streetwear boutique,” and Locolat—a Belgian restaurant outside of our jurisdiction otherwise notable for its snail-topped herb waffles (a favorite of a clerk of mine) and a waiter who may or may not be my doppelgänger (dobbeltgænger?). The creation story of the B&M is a testament to the popularity of Pleasant Pops: the co-founders had reached their fundraising goal eight days into a 30-day Kickstarter campaign to raise $20,000 to open a B&M.

Pleasant Pops

We encountered Pleasant Pops at a farmer’s market off McPherson Square on a stuffy day in late Spring. Looking for a frozen treat, we spied a diminutive cart purveying a variety of dairy and non-dairy iced confections (see above). Scanning its menu, we settled for the “Guac Pop.” But first we must answer two preliminary questions:

1. Is a cart at a farmer’s market within our jurisdiction?
2. Is a “paleta” street food, as defined under our Eat Wonky test?

Both questions prove easy to answer.

Jurisdiction. First, while we have never considered whether a cart at a farmer’s market is within the jurisdiction of this Supreme Cart, we have gone so far as to find a Dippin’ Dots cart at a private event to lie within our jurisdiction. See In re Dippin’ Dots, 10 Catt. 5 (2012). If anything, its location at a farmer’s market, in the middle of Vermont Avenue, only places the Pleasant Pops cart more firmly within our jurisdiction.

Street Food. Second, while we have never addressed the precise question of whether a paleta, or even a popsicle more broadly, is “street food,” we have held that ice creams and sorbets do constitute “street food.” See In re Sinplicity, 9 Catt. 3 (2012). If anything, the nature of the popsicle—requiring no utensil, as compared with the spoon accompanying a cup of ice cream—only serves to strengthen the argument that the paleta and the popsicle are properly “street food.” Further, given our emphasis at times on historicity, the fact that the paleta is a Latin American street food tradition concludes the matter. Because the “Guac Pop” is “street food,” we must affirm it unless it bears some fatal flaw. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012).

Guac Pop (Avocado & Lime)

Having answered these questions, we may safely move to the question of the “Guac Pop” itself. We were confronted with a menu filled with other intriguing options, among them Chongos and Hibiscus. Why, then, did we opt for the Guac? While my sister and I agree on few things, we do agree that, when at the Eden Center, the best bubble concoction to order is the sweetened guacamole smoothie. It’s delicious. I am also particularly fond of the traditional Indonesian chocolate and guacamole smoothie at Satay Sarinah in Alexandria. (N.B.: Satay Sarinah’s new truck Satè is on our radar.) There is a wide and delectable world of avocado-based desserts out there (see here and here, for examples). Even purveyor of fine living Martha Stewart agrees. And so, we opted for the avocado and lime paleta above all others.

We affirm.

The Guac Pop’s flavor is relatively subtle, with the taste of its key components never overpowered by sugar. It is a fresh, refreshing, and inexpensive treat on a hot day (or, I imagine, on any other day). We were particularly fond of the lime flavor, which actually tasted like lime rather than artificial lime or Rose’s lime cordial which, while delicious in a gimlet, would not have complemented the avocado as well as more or less unadulterated lime. (But a gimlet paleta? Hm.) This is a non-dairy pop, but the creaminess of the avocado mimics the unctuousness of a milk-based product without its heaviness.  We’ll be back for more and look forward to trying more of Pleasant Pop’s 100-strong repertoire.

AFFIRMED.

CATTLEYA, J., concurring.

I share my brother’s enthusiasm for the Guac Pop and wholeheartedly agree with the opinion he has authored, except for the unfortunate construction of the first sentence of the third paragraph. (Or is it the Chief Justice’s law clerk who deserves blame for faulty writing and proof-reading?)

Because I could not stop myself any longer, I granted cartiorari to the red velvet donut bites from Mama’s Donut Bites (“MDB”).  I first discovered MDB a couple of months ago when the pink-colored truck lured me in to try the signature apple cider donut bites. See In re Mama’s Donut Bites, 18 Catt. 1 (2013). I was very pleased with the hot, fresh, worth-every-calorie donuts and since then have been looking forward to the chance to try another flavor. That chance finally came.

Mama’s Donut Bites

 STREET FOOD

Before I can review the red velvet donut bites, I must pause to say that donuts are true street food. Mama’s Donut Bites, 18 Catt. 1; see also In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011) (defining street food as “the kind[] . . . that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up”). In accordance with donuts’ status as street food, MDB’s donut bites are entitled to the presumption that they are suitable for curbside service and I must affirm absent a significant flaw. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012).

Red Velvet Donut Bites with Cream Cheese Frosting

RED VELVET DONUT BITES

Shortly after my first visit to MDB, MDB began to hit the road in the mornings to serve during breakfast hours. On a recent morning, as soon as I walked into my chambers, my law clerk informed me that MDB was serving red velvet donut bites and I was quickly out the door.

Not long after, I held in my hands a bag of six red velvet donut bites for $3. (Had I remembered to invite my law clerk, I would have opted for a dozen donuts for $5.) MDB’s red velvet donut bites come in two ways: tossed in powdered sugar or served with a small plastic container of cream cheese frosting. I chose the cream cheese frosting.

The made-to-order donuts were hot when I received them. The freshly fried donuts had a thin, crisp outer layer, while the inside was airy and moist. It was a textural symphony. Although the red velvet donut did not have a strong enough kick of rich-tasting cocoa powder for my liking, the donut nevertheless was enjoyable, especially when dipped into the cream cheese frosting. The frosting achieved a delightful balance of tangy and sweet. When the donuts ran out, I unabashedly stuck my finger into the container to savor the remaining frosting. Not even five minutes after getting the donut bites, they were gone.

A note about the price: $3 for six donut bites may seem steep, especially if you consider that you can get a donut from Dunkin’ Donuts for around $1. But it seems more appropriate to compare MDB’s donuts to other freshly made mobile treats, like cupcakes. In that light, MDB’s donuts are comparably priced. For example, Sweetbites and Curbside Cupcakes charge the same amount ($3) for one cupcake. What’s more, MDB’s six donut bites probably beat most single cupcakes in terms of total size, so perhaps MDB is even a better deal.

CONCLUSION

MDB’s red velvet donuts bites were not the best rendition of a red velvet recipe (they could have used more cocoa powder to add richness), but they were good enough and their accompanying cream cheese frosting was excellent. The experience was satisfying enough to guarantee a future return to try another flavor, like the blueberry donut bites. My biggest gripe (though it’s probably best for my ever-growing waistline) is that MDB focuses on one flavor each day, preventing me from gluttonously trying every flavor at once.

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

District Taco (“DT”) is a longtime member of the mobile food scene. Today, it operates several food carts in Northern Virginia and DC and has even expanded to include three brick-and-mortar restaurants. Long I have heard from my law clerk that DT, the maker of fresh Mexican food, puts the Chipotle Mexican Grill franchise to shame. To settle the matter and give my ears a rest, I granted cartiorari to DT’s chicken tacos from its food cart stationed near the Clarendon metro stop in Virginia.

District Taco

 STREET FOOD

Before I may review DT’s tacos, I must determine whether tacos are “street food,” or “the kind[] . . . that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011). It is well settled by this court that tacos are true street food. See, e.g., In re El Chilango, 12 Catt. 2 (2012); In re La Tingeria, 18 Catt. 3 (2013); In re Kimchi BBQ Taco, 13 Catt. 2 (2012); In re Sol Mexican Grill, 9 Catt. 4 (2012). Because tacos are street food, this court must affirm DT’s chicken tacos unless the Cart meets the high burden to prove a significant flaw with the tacos. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012). Although DT’s chicken tacos were not perfect, I cannot meet the high burden and so affirm.

Chicken Tacos

 CHICKEN TACOS

When I walked up to DT, there was a crowd around the cart. This pleased me because it was a very promising sign for the food, but it also confused me. I imagine that a regular would have known how to navigate the crowd, but I could not tell who was in line waiting to order and who had already ordered but had not yet received their food. After standing in a line that turned out not to be a line, I corrected my mistake and soon enough found myself at the front of the cart to place my order.

I opted for the 2-tacos-for-$5 deal:

• The first step in the ordering process was to pick a protein. DT’s menu includes carnitas, carne asada, pollo asado, barbacoa, and al pastor. Normally I would never pick chicken over beef or pork, see In re Red Hook Lobster Pound, 2 Catt. 1 (2011) (“[N]o one in their right mind orders shrimp over lobster.”); In re El Floridano, 2 Catt. 2 (2011) (“[N]o one in their right mind orders [tempeh] over [pork].”), and my fellow eaters apparently felt the same way. By the time I arrived to the cart at 1pm, the chicken was all that was left. So I ordered the pollo asado.
• The second step was to choose between flour and corn tortillas. The default at DT is flour, so the customer must speak up if he or she prefers corn.
• The third step was to select toppings. For an “American” taco, DT recommends lettuce, cheese, and pico de gallo. For a “Mexican” taco, DT recommends onion and cilantro. If the customer wants a customized taco, DT recommends a maximum of three toppings, but the customer is free to add as many toppings as are desired. Among the toppings are standards like lettuce, onion, jalapenos, cilantro, cheese, pico de gallo, and sour cream, as well as “premium” choices like guacamole, chorizo, and bacon. All toppings are available at no additional cost. I repeat, all toppings are included. (Interestingly, this is not true of the brick-and-mortar locations. Premium toppings on tacos are an extra 50 cents.) I ordered onion, jalapenos, and cheese on my first taco, and then onion, jalapenos, and guacamole on my second.
• The last step was to visit the salsa station, where DT puts out salsas in condiment containers. I picked up a mild green salsa and a spicier red salsa.

Now for the verdict: DT’s chicken tacos were good, although not extraordinary. The chicken was well seasoned, but it leaned more on the dry/tough side than on the moist/tender side. Fortunately, the toppings hid the less-than-perfect execution. Of the toppings I selected, the fresh guacamole and spicy jalapenos came through the most. That being said, toppings should not be relied on to mask dry chicken, and it would have been better if the chicken had held up on its own. Cf. In re Bada Bing, 5 Catt. 2 (2012).

What surprised me the most was how filling DT’s tacos were. The tacos looked small and upon first seeing them, I wished that I had ordered a third taco. But by the time I finished my two tacos, I was satisfied. And while I usually start to feel hunger pangs every two hours or so, I remained satisfied long past my usual dinner hour.

CONCLUSION

Although DT’s tacos were not the best I’ve ever had, they were fresh, filling, and cheap and, with unlimited free toppings, they made me feel like I had gotten a great deal. On my way home from the court that evening, I passed my local Chipotle chain and chuckled because at DT I had been able to get guacamole and keep the couple of dollars that I would have spent for the premium topping.

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

We granted cartiorari to Caribbean Cafe Truck (CCT), a downtown mobile gastronomic enterprise, on the question(s) of its beef patty and coco bread.

As a point of introduction, we had initially decided to grant cartiorari only to CCT’s beef patty. The beef patty–a bright golden affair filled with seasoned ground beef–is a staple of Jamaican street food. (No further explanation is needed to determine that a Jamaican patty, like an empanada, pasty, and other stuffed pastries, meets our test for “street food” and is therefore entitled to the presumption of affirmance. See, e.g., In re Rolls on Rolls, 13 Catt. 3 (2012) (a samosa is “street food”). We were eager to sample CCT’s take on this classic street food.

Caribbean Cafe Truck

In preliminary research, my clerk happened upon a fascinating image: a beef patty ensconced in coco bread. Coco bread is a fairly heavy, fairly starchy bread made with a bit of coconut milk (or maybe it’s just split open like a coconut) and imparting a subtle touch of sweetness, cut in half and, apparently, often stuffed with a Jamaican beef patty. That’s right: a pastry-filled sandwich. Articles on both the Jamaican patty and coco bread corroborated this image. There were many more images. The Grey Lady reported on it back in 2005. An online Jamaican grocery verified it. So there you have it: a carb sandwich.

And why not? It makes some intuitive sense as street food. Bread, like my sister’s talk, is relatively cheap and, though generally lacking in substance, fills you up quickly wanting no more, as we found out. So why not wrap a pastry in more bread? And so we ordered a beef patty and a coco bread from CCT and assembled for ourselves a park-bench meal.

Coco Bread & Beef Patty

The predominant flavor of the beef patty sandwich is heavy–given the nature of our work, the Justices of this truck are no strangers to heaviness–but the sandwich was, I daresay, gastronomically harmonious: the cakiness of the coco bread, the turmeric-tinted flakiness of the patty crust, and the stewed beef core. A Red Stripe probably would have helped wash it down. (On second thought, I should have ordered a ginger beer.) Overall, the patty sandwich satisfied more traditional goals of street food: quick, simple, moderately satisfying food that is sold cheaply ($5) and fills you up fast. See, e.g., In re Street Vendor Near National Mall, 9 Catt. 5 (2012).

Coco Bread Stuffed with Beef Patty

As for the patty itself, the crust was very good–just flaky enough and a beautiful color. It held up without giving way to the filling. The filling–the spiced ground beef–was good. It was perhaps not as hot as I might have expected of a cuisine I associate with the Scotch bonnet pepper–having lived my entire childhood with an ancient bottle of Bajan pepper sauce in my refrigerator, I might have unreasonable expectations of West Indian heat–but it was nicely flavored. Not a complex profile, but certainly a satisfying one.

Coco Bread & Beef Patty Sandwich

Given the presumption of affirmance for true street food, I would certainly affirm both the patty sandwich and the beef patty by itself. Even without the presumption, however, I would affirm. Beside the relative novelty of a carb sandwich, this is a decent presentation of world street food at its most prototypical. It’s nice to see that nod to tradition in a scene that seems increasingly taken with what is essentially streetside take-out.

AFFIRMED.

CATTLEYA, J., concurring.

Despite the unprovoked attack in my brother’s words, he reaches the same conclusion that my “cheap talk” would, except he talked in circles before finally arriving to the point: “the patty sandwich satisfied more traditional goals of street food: quick, simple, moderately satisfying food that is sold cheaply . . . and fills you up fast.”

Curbside Cupcakes (“CC”) bills itself as DC’s “first mobile cupcake truck.” Since it joined the mobile food scene in 2009, it has grown to three trucks and two indoor kiosks. While there is no question that CC’s trucks are in the Cart’s jurisdiction, it is less clear whether its kiosks are. The question before us today is whether the Cart may properly exercise jurisdiction and review the red velvet and carrot cake cupcakes from CC’s kiosk located in the food court at the Pentagon City Mall.

Curbside Cupcakes Kiosk at Pentagon City Mall

 JURISDICTIONAL TEST

We first turn to our guiding legislation and rules. The Judiciary Act of 2011 (Cartiorari Act) grants the Supreme Cart “exclusive jurisdiction of all food carts, trucks, and other transitory alimentary establishments within those portions of the District of Columbia or the part thereof retroceded to the Commonwealth of Virginia.” Rule of Procedure 1-2 expands this to explain that the Cart’s jurisdiction “extends to all mobile gastronomic enterprises situated throughout those parts of (a) the County of Arlington, Virginia, (b) the District of Columbia, and (c) the City of Alexandria, Virginia, which are reasonably proximate to public transportation of a reasonably rapid and efficient character.”

From the Cartiorari Act and our own Rules of Procedures, we learn that the Cart’s jurisdictional test contains three elements. First, the establishment under consideration must be located in DC, Arlington, or Alexandria. Second, it must be a mobile gastronomic enterprise. Third, it must be reasonably proximate to public transportation of a reasonably rapid and efficient character.

ELEMENTS ONE & THREE OF JURISDICTIONAL TEST

We easily see that the first and third elements are satisfied in this case. CC’s kiosk is within the geographic jurisdiction of the Cart. The kiosk is located in the Pentagon City Mall, which is in Arlington. Thus, CC’s kiosk is “located in DC, Arlington, or Alexandria.” Moreover, CC’s kiosk is reasonably proximate to public transportation. The Pentagon City Mall is near the Pentagon City metro stop and is accessible by either the Blue or Yellow Lines.

ELEMENT TWO OF JURISDICTIONAL TEST

The reviewability of the cupcakes from CC’s kiosk depends on whether the kiosk is a “mobile gastronomic enterprise.” By no stretch of the imagination or misinterpretation of our case law may CC’s kiosk qualify as a mobile gastronomic enterprise. In In re China Garden, 5 Catt. 1 (2012), we held that to be a mobile gastronomic enterprise, the enterprise selling the gastronomy had to be mobile. Here, it is clear that a stationary kiosk inside a shopping mall’s food cart is not mobile.

However, this finding does not end our analysis. Even if a gastronomic enterprise is not mobile, the Cart may exercise jurisdiction over it by virtue of its relationship with a mobile gastronomic enterprise that is within our jurisdiction. In In re Dippin’ Dots, 10 Catt. 5 (2012), we had jurisdiction over a pushcart that operated inside a building because it was affiliated with a food truck that was within our jurisdiction and vended the same ice cream product. In other words, the Cart’s jurisdiction extends to a gastronomic enterprise if (1) it is affiliated with a concurrently operating mobile gastronomic enterprise that is within our jurisdiction; and (2) it vends the same gastronomy as that mobile gastronomic enterprise.

CC’s kiosk meets both prongs. First, the kiosk is part of CC’s enterprise and is related to CC’s trucks, and, as stated before, CC’s trucks are mobile gastronomic enterprises within the Cart’s jurisdiction. This is because the trucks operate in DC and Arlington; are mobile and sell foodstuff in the form of cupcakes; and may be found near many metro stops in the area. Second, CC’s kiosk at Pentagon City Mall sells the same cupcakes as the food trucks. Indeed, they sell the same flavors on the same days. For example, on May 3, CC’s trucks and the kiosk offered the following flavors: red velvet, vanilla bean, black cupcake, carrot cake, vanilla mocha, peanut butter cup, tequila sunrise, and strawberry delight.

Today we hold that the Cart has jurisdiction over the red velvet and carrot cake cupcakes from CC’s stationary kiosk at the Pentagon City Mall because CC simultaneously operates food trucks within our jurisdiction and the kiosk vends the same cupcakes as the food trucks. To be clear, we hold only that our jurisdiction extends to the cupcakes under our consideration in this case. Our jurisdiction should not be interpreted to extend to CC’s cake truffles, which may be purchased from the kiosk but not the trucks. As the question of CC’s cake truffles are not before us today, we decline to decide that question and leave open the possibility that different menu items may be reviewed by this court.

Curbside Cupcakes Kiosk

CUPCAKES: RED VELVET AND CARROT CAKE

Because we have jurisdiction over the red velvet and carrot cake cupcakes from CC’s kiosk at the Pentagon City Mall, we may properly review the cupcakes. Our regular reader knows that before we can address the merits of the cupcakes, we must first determine whether CC’s cupcakes are “street food.” Street food is the kind that “can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011). If a dish qualifies as street food, we presume that it should be affirmed. If not, then the burden lies with the mobile gastronomic enterprise to prove the worth of the dish. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012). Our case law makes clear that cupcakes are not street food, see, e.g., In re Sweetbites, 10 Catt. 1 (2012), so CC’s cupcakes are not entitled to the presumption of affirmance.

Carrot Cake and Red Velvet

Even so, CC’s red velvet and carrot cake flavors were good. The red velvet cake was sufficiently rich with the right hint of cocoa powder. The carrot cake was pleasing texture-wise, as shredded carrots, chopped walnuts, and raisins were mixed into the soft cake. Each cupcake was topped with a generous amount of thick cream cheese frosting. The frosting was perfectly tangy instead of sweet. Now, my only complaint: while the cupcakes were moist, the exteriors were much too sticky. Perhaps the result of air-tight storage which trapped in moisture? I would have preferred a less sticky cupcake, but overall I enjoyed both cupcakes and, even at $3 per cupcake, would not object to having one of each again on a “I need a cupcake” kind of day.

CONCLUSION

The Cart’s jurisdiction extends to the red velvet and carrot cake cupcakes from CC’s kiosk at Pentagon City Mall because CC’s concurrently operating food trucks offer the same cupcakes. Thus, a review of the kiosk’s cupcakes is essentially a review of the food trucks’ cupcakes, and such a review serves the needs of our readers. CC’s red velvet and carrot cake cupcakes were tasty, moist, and topped off with a wonderfully tangy frosting. Unfortunately, they were too sticky, and for that reason the case is

AFFIRMED in part and REMANDED in part to Curbside Cupcakes for revision.

JEREMY, C.J., concurring in the jurisdictional question.

I concur in my sister’s application of this Cart’s jurisdictional test. I have long been of the opinion that this Cart’s jurisdiction extends to non-mobile gastronomic enterprises associated with mobile gastronomic enterprises. See, e.g., In re Pupatella, 8 Catt. 4 (2012).

I must recuse myself, however, from the question of the quality of CC’s wares. In In re Dangerously Delicious Pies, 4 Catt. 4 (2011), I wrote that, “given my severe aversion to cupcakeries,” I would recuse myself from the case of any “cupcake truck.” See also In re Sweetbites, 10 Catt. 1 (2012); In re Sinplicity, 9 Catt. 3 (2012). While the case before us is not one involving a cupcake truck, there is no principled distinction to be made between enterprises purveying primarily cupcakes–whether truck, cart, or brick-and-mortar.

The only possibility of not recusing myself would arise from adopting a more neutral opinion of cupcakeries, such that I may assess individual cupcakeries on their merits. However, on a lazy Sunday afternoon not so very long ago, a clerk and I decided to finally wait in the unnecessarily long line at Georgetown Cupcake. I left unimpressed, blinded by pink, and, frankly, vengeful. Clearly my “severe aversion” has not abated. Far from it. (For encouraging news, though, see here!) And so I do the only ethical thing and recuse myself from the substance of this case.

(N.B. I also hate shopping malls. Clearly I was not meant to adjudicate this case. Lest you think me a complete curmudgeon, I will remind you of my love of duck and poutine and pie.)

I granted cartiorari to Mediterranean Delights (“MD”), a food cart in the Ballston neighborhood of Northern Virginia. MD promises “Homemade Mediterranean Delights right to your curb” and includes on its menu items like Mediterranean salad, gyros, hummus, and stuffed grape leaves. I opted for the lamb platter, served with rice, salad, and a side vegetable.

Mediterranean Delights

 STREET FOOD

As usual, our first order of business is to determine whether MD’s lamb platter qualifies as street food. This court presumes that street food should be affirmed, shifting the burden of proof to the Cart to show that the case should be remanded to the mobile gastronomic enterprise for revision. If a dish is not sufficiently street in nature, then the mobile gastronomic enterprise bears the burden to prove that the dish is fit for curbside service. In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012).

What then is street food? This court has defined street food as “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011). We have repeatedly held that meat-over-rice dishes like the one before the Cart today are not street food. See, e.g., In re NY Famous Kabob, 7 Catt. 3 (2012). Thus, no presumption arises in favor of MD’s lamb platter.

Lamb Platter with Chick Peas and Salad

LAMB PLATTER

Although MD’s platter was similar to other lamb-and-rice platters available on the street, see, e.g., NY Famous Kabob, 7 Catt. 3; In re Ali Khan Express, 3 Catt. 5 (2011); In re Tasty Kabob, 3 Catt. 4 (2011), the dish nevertheless was satisfying. For $7, the customer receives lamb over basmati rice, salad, and a side vegetable. I was given a choice between green beans and chick peas, and I chose the latter.

When MD gave me a Styrofoam container full of food and I handed over my payment, I immediately noticed two things. First, MD’s lamb platter was a little cheaper than some others. For example, Tasty Kabob and Zesty Kabob each charge $9 for their platters. However, MD’s most immediate competition has comparable, even cheaper, prices. Metro Halal Food Cart down the block in Ballston charges $6 and NY Famous Kabob in Virginia Square charges $6.99. Second, MD’s Styrofoam container seemed slightly smaller than that used by other mobile vendors. The serving size was actually better suited for lunch service, leaving me satisfied but not stuffed. The larger platters are generally too much for me, and since I never have the willpower to save half for dinner, I usually feel too full afterwards. Still, although I didn’t want more food, I couldn’t help but feel that I wasn’t getting the most bang for my buck.

What MD lacked in quantity, however, it made up with quality. The chunks of lamb were flavorful and moist and served over fluffy basmati rice. It was topped with three types of sauces: tzatziki, red, and mint. The cool tzatziki , hot red, and fresh mint sauces achieved a harmonious blend. My only complaint was that the lamb chunks were not bite-size and required cutting for easy eating, but MD provided only a fork and no knife. MD’s side salad was above average. In addition to the standard lettuce and tomatoes, the salad included onions and crumbled feta cheese and was finished off with a homemade Greek dressing. As a cheese lover, I must say that the inclusion of feta was a small but very nice touch. Finally, the chick peas were probably the tastiest I’ve had from a mobile gastronomic enterprise in the area. This side dish is often overlooked, resulting in something watery and tasteless, but not here. MD’s chick peas were well spiced with dark, earthy flavors like coriander and cumin. I usually treat this part of the platter as filler, but I savored it as much as everything else.

CONCLUSION

Compared with similar lamb platters from other mobile vendors, MD’s was not the largest or cheapest offering. However, the food was fresh and flavorful. Moreover, MD got the small details right, like topping off the side salad with a feta crumble and heavily spicing the often-overlooked chick peas.

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

We granted cartiorari to Stella*s PopKern (“SP”), which describes itself as “DC’s first Gourmet Popcorn . . . food truck.” SP’s menu includes flavors like butter with Brazilian sea salt, zesty white cheddar, and French white chocolate infused with cherry and sea salt. We opted for one of SP’s classic and most popular flavors: salty caramel.

Stella*s PopKern

STREET FOOD

Under our case law, we presume that street food should be affirmed by this court. In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012). Street food is “the kind[] . . . that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011). Although popcorn has never before come before the Cart, we can easily say that popcorn is street food. SP makes its popcorn daily in front of customers, and customers can (and in fact do) eat SP’s popcorn with their hands immediately as they stroll away from the truck. Because popcorn is street food, the Cart has the burden to prove a serious misstep. As explained below, the Cart finds a misstep in the lack of salt in SP’s salty caramel popcorn.

Salty Caramel Popcorn

SALTY CARAMEL POPCORN

SP prepares its popcorn flavors daily, and it recommends eating the freshly-made popcorn within one to two hours after purchase. (If immediate eating is not possible, SP conveniently provides re-crisping instructions on its website.) Different flavors come at different prices, and flavors may be purchased in either small or large. Small bags are generally in the $3-$6 range and large bags in the $6-$9 range. A small bag of salty caramel popcorn was $4.75 with tax.

When I opened the bag and saw the salty caramel popcorn, I excitedly exclaimed to the Chief Justice, “Oh, this is like Cracker Jacks!” The good news is that eating a handful of popcorn confirmed the comparison: SP’s salty caramel popcorn was much like Cracker Jacks. However, the bad news is that the salty caramel popcorn was not much better than Cracker Jacks.

This was an enjoyable snack, but I was still a little disappointed. The popcorn had an even coating of caramel and a nice crunch. However, I wished the very light hint of salt was more like an Emeril “Bam!” — I didn’t detect the saltiness until halfway through the bag.

Overall, I just expected something more. Something that differentiated it from a ballpark snack. Something that screamed, “This was worth your money!” I suspect, based on the long line of repeat customers, that I chose a flavor that just didn’t suit me. And I suspect that I would have enjoyed the French white chocolate infused with cherry and sea salt, or another more-than-basic flavor combination. So, despite my disappointment, I will visit SP again to try another flavor.

CONCLUSION

The salty caramel popcorn was more “caramel” than “salty caramel”. It was very similar to Cracker Jacks, except it didn’t have any peanuts or come with a toy. Still, the popcorn was fresh and the good ingredients were obvious, so it’s probably just best to order a different flavor.

AFFIRMED in part and REMANDED in part to Stella*s PopKern for revision.

JEREMY, C.J., concurring.

It is precisely a case such as that now before the Cart that demonstrates the power of the presumption that proper “street food” should be affirmed. While, given the presumption, I concur in the decision of the Cart, I would add only that I was rather underwhelmed by this bag of toy-less, peanut-less Cracker Jacks.

One sunny but blustery morning in early Spring, we granted cartiorari on the question of the poutine at DC Ballers (“DCB”). My peculiar penchant for the Canadian slop is well documented, see In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 4 (2011), andour clerks had heard wonderful things about DCB’s poutine. We awaited DCB’s poutine with great anticipation.

And so it was with some degree of shock and dismay that we found a menu affixed to DCB’s vehicle sans poutine. Nevertheless, having already positioned ourselves before the mobile gastronomic enterprise, and presented with a menu replete with other fried-potato offerings, we resolved to put our dreams of poutine behind us and forge ahead in our judicial duties, granting cartiorari instead on the question of “Greek Fries.”

Greek fries, as the name might suggest, pairs feta and oregano with seasoned fries. The presentation is a brown lunch bag, oil-stained.

DC Ballers

I. STREET FOOD

Our first inquiry always is to determine where the burden of proof lies in a particular case. This Cart has long presumed that, absent grievous error, “street food” should be affirmed. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012). Street food is defined by this Cart as “the kind[] . . . that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011).

This Cart has held that many things constitute street food: sandwiches, tacos, etc. However, this Cart has never addressed whether French fry-based dishes are inherently “street food.” Coincidentally, the last case of this Cart’s jurisprudence prior to our adoption of the Eat Wonky test concerned just that. See Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 4.

French fries, of course, are generally cooked in front of you, are meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up. However, that realization cannot end our inquiry. In the case of DCB’s Greek Fries, we found that the scale and scope and presentation of the oil-soaked bag of fries, covered in globs of feta and loose seasonings, is most easily enjoyed with a fork. Moreover, as discussed below, we found the dish to also read better as a fork-based dish. Therefore, I find that DCB cannot meet the letter of the Eat Wonky test even though the basis of the dish—French fries—are generally “street food.”

However, we have held that the Eat Wonky test is “not intended to affirmatively define the entire class of ‘street food,’ but is rather intended only to be a multifactor test to guide and direct our analysis.” In re Hot People Food, 6 Catt. 4 (2012). Because the dish is best eaten fresh off the truck, because it is quite easily eaten while in motion or while sitting on a park bench, and because it tends to embody a certain spirit of street food, I would find that, despite use of a fork, DCB’s Greek fries constitute “street food” and are thus entitled to the presumption of affirmance.

In this case, that presumption cannot be rebutted.

Greek Fries

II. GREEK FRIES

As noted above, Greek fries present a rather simple notion: (1) French fries, (2) feta, (3) oregano, (4) seasoning. We of the Cart tend to admire simplicity, as with a simple dish the question becomes one of execution. In this case, DCB’s Greek fries, while not a perfect dish, are reasonably well executed.

Flavor. The combination of warm, fried potato; crumbles of salty feta; and aromatic oregano is delightful. I’m sure it should remind me of the Peloponnese or of some remote Mediterranean islet, but, unfortunately, I have no such frame of reference. Nevertheless, the classic combination of flavors is flawless and well-balanced and provided a warm and sunny respite on a brisk and blustery day.

Fries. The fries are good but not perfect. We have spoken well of fries that are “fresh and hot and crisp with a pillowy center.” See Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 4. While DCB’s fries were most certainly fresh, most certainly hot, and featured, one might say, a certain pillowiness to their interiors, a true crispness was disappointingly lacking. For this reason, we found that the dish was best enjoyed with a fork—in other words, as a sort of Greek hash brown. And, really, in that manner, the dish was quite delightful. (I believe we commented, in an uncharacteristic moment of youthfulness, that it would make decent drunk food, but the late-night food truck scene has not yet caught on.)

Quantity and Value. For $5, you get a bag of fries that could easily feed two-to-three people. In our case, it fed two rather ravenous Justices, but we are perhaps not entirely representative. Regardless, at $5, this is a good deal and could easily make a meal unto itself (albeit an entirely unhealthy one).

For the reasons above, this case is

AFFIRMED.

La Tingeria’s authentic Mexican dishes first graced the lunch table of this court late last year. I was most pleased with La Tingeria’s tinga, quesadilla, and elote loco. The delicious flavors and affordable prices even had me declare that “La Tingeria ha[d] become one of my favorite food trucks.” In re La Tingeria (La Tingeria I), 15 Catt. 3 (2012). I granted cartiorari to try the rest of the items on La Tingeria’s menu, so that the reader may form a more complete picture of La Tingeria’s offerings.

La Tingeria

As I explained when La Tingeria first appeared before the Cart, the menu is simple. First, “you pick a meat, then you pick a vehicle to contain it.” La Tingeria I, 15 Catt. 3. The meat options are beef, chorizo, and chicken. The “vehicle” options are tingas, quesadillas, tacos, and sopes. At the end of last year, La Tingeria planned to retire quesadillas and sopes from the menu, but they returned this year with the original menu, including the quesadillas and sopes. As the reader will see below, this is a very good thing. The menu may soon expand to include tortas as well. Each menu item is $2.50.

In La Tingeria I, I opted for a beef tinga and chorizo quesadilla. So that I could review for the reader all of La Tingeria’s menu options (as of the date of this writing), I ordered a chicken taco and chorizo sope this time around.

TRUE STREET FOOD

Before I discuss the merits of these two menu items, I must establish who carries the burden of proof in this case. This Cart presumes that all street food should be fully affirmed. If the food before us is properly classified as “street,” then the food may only be remanded for revision if the Cart meets the high burden to prove a severe misstep.  See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012). Street food is defined by this court as “the kind[] . . . that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011). We have already determined that La Tingeria’s hand-held food offerings are street food. La Tingeria I, 15 Catt. 3; see also In re El Chilango, 12 Catt. 2 (2012) (holding that tacos are street food). Thus, La Tingeria’s dishes are entitled to the presumption of affirmance by this court.

CHICKEN TACO

As an authentic Mexican taco should be, La Tingeria advertises that a taco includes your choice of meat served on two corn tortillas and then topped with onion and cilantro. However, when my chicken taco arrived, it was topped with lettuce, Mexican cheese, and crema Mexicana. The shredded chicken filling was surprisingly flavorful and moist. Cooked with onion, it achieved a nice mix of sweet and spicy. Overall, the taco was tasty, although I would have preferred the more traditional toppings of onion and cilantro to the less traditional lettuce and cheese.

It was a solid dish, but still, the taco is La Tingeria’s weakest menu offering. This is for two reasons. First, while eating La Tingeria’s taco, my mind could not help but wander to another authentic Mexican food truck that serves tacos (and only tacos) and has perfected the dish–from the lightly toasted two-ply corn tortillas to the side of fresh radish slices. I speak of El Chilango. See El Chilango, 12 Catt. 2. Second, the other three options on La Tingeria’s menu (tinga, quesadilla, sope) are so strong and so memorable that the taco cannot compete. For more on La Tingeria’s tinga and quesadilla, see La Tingeria I, 15 Catt. 3. For more on the sope, see below.

Chicken Taco & Chorizo Sope

 CHORIZO SOPE

Until I walked up to La Tingeria’s window, I had never heard of or tried a sope. What you get is a thick tortilla that is fried on the outside. It is then layered with a refried bean spread, your choice of meat, onion, cilantro, Mexican cheese, and crema Mexicana. It may not be the prettiest (or least caloric) of foods, but the result was spectacular. The fried exterior of the tortilla provided a nice crunchy texture, while the thick center was still soft. The thickness of the tortilla also functioned to support the weight of the heavy toppings. The ground chorizo was wonderfully fatty and spicy, and the refried beans were flavorful. The onion, cilantro, and cheese finished off the dish nicely. As soon as I ate the last bite, I wanted to run back and order another one. Without a doubt in my mind, La Tingeria’s sope is the star. I plan on returning to La Tingeria for this menu item alone on a regular basis (though for the sake of my waistline, probably every other week instead of every week).

CONCLUSION

La Tingeria has solidified itself as my favorite “everyday” food truck. Cf. In re Red Hook Lobster Pound, 2 Catt. 1 (2011) (describing a “special occasion” food truck). Its menu focuses on delicious, satisfying dishes, and it offers everything at cheap prices. Sure, it’s not without some missteps (e.g., as with my first visit, there were some mix-ups with the orders). But La Tingeria usually gets it right, and when it’s right, it’s excellent.

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

One morning I was running very late to the courthouse.  Broken alarm clock. Mismatched socks hiding under my long black robe. No breakfast. How I wished I had in my employ a chef named Fritz Brenner who could make me eggs au beurre noir, broiled Georgia ham, and hashed brown potatoes! See REX STOUT, OVER MY DEAD BODY (1940). But it was not so. As I rushed through the streets to the courthouse—stomach at full growl—I stopped suddenly when I spotted a little yellow food cart at the end of the block. A food cart serving breakfast? Yes, please.

The food cart was Choupi, and it was not the first time that I had seen the crêpe* cart. The Chief Justice and I shared a nutella-banana-walnut crêpe last fall when a full docket had us in need of an afternoon dessert. I asked then, “[W]hy would you eat a savory crepe when you could indulge in a sweet crepe?” See In re Choupi, 12 Catt. 3 (2012). I now know that the answer lies in breakfast.

Choupi

Not wishing to subject my stomach to an overly sugary meal so early in the morning, I focused on Choupi’s savory offerings. The menu includes a variety of meat, vegetable, and cheese options. It even has eggs. All crêpes start at $3.50, and each topping is 50 cents. I opted for a classic flavor combination and ordered ham, mushroom, and cheese. (The combination is such a classic that it appears on a list of “Choupi’s Favorites,” though as a lunch item.)

Before I go any further, I must address the issue of “street food.” Because crêpes are street food, defined as “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up,” In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011), the savory crêpe before me today is entitled to the presumption of affirmance. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012) (explaining the presumption in favor of street food); In re Choupi, 12 Catt. 3 (2012) (holding that crêpes are street food). Therefore, I must affirm the ham-mushroom-cheese crêpe unless I can show a severe flaw with the dish. I cannot.

Ham, mushroom, and cheese crêpe

Just like my first dining experience with Choupi, my crêpe pancake was prepared on the griddle by an expert hand. It was light and thin and soft, though it was not as flaky on the outside as the first time. I would recommend indicating your preference for a crispier crêpe if you indeed do prefer a crispier crêpe.

The ham-mushroom-cheese filling was warm and tasty. The ham added some saltiness, the mushroom slices were fresh, and the cheese held everything together nicely. I remember wanting more cheese as I chomped away on the crêpe, but that was just me in my ravenous state trying to turn a beautiful thin crêpe into an oozy grilled cheese sandwich or a cheesy quesadilla.

Although I still prefer sweet crêpes, I recognize that savory crêpes have their place in this world. And that place is at 8am when one needs breakfast before going to work. Choupi–one of the very few food carts/trucks in the area that serves breakfast–opens at 7:30am, Monday through Friday. Find it on North Lynn St. near the Rosslyn metro, and then be sure to return later for a sweet crêpe in the afternoon.

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

*Throughout this opinion I use “crêpe” instead of “crepe” to please the Chief Justice, who I’m sure is mad at me for being late to the courthouse and for eating a crêpe without him. For the Chief Justice’s feelings on the use of “crepe”, see In re Choupi, 12 Catt. 3 (2012) (Jeremy, C.J., dissenting).

Recently, a new food truck caught my attention on the streets of Arlington. The pink-colored truck featured a cartoon woman (to my eye, a dark-haired cross between Jane Jetson and Lucille Ball) serving an enormous tray of donuts. It was named Mama’s Donut Bites (“MDB”), and I could not stop myself from granting cartiorari to review MDB under the authority given to me by Rule of Procedure 2-2.

Mama’s Donut Bites

STREET FOOD

The procedures of this reviewing tribunal dictate that I must first determine whether MDB’s donut bites are street food. This is because the Cart presumes that street food should be fully affirmed. Food that does not qualify as “street” is not entitled to the same presumption and must prove its worthiness. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012).

This court has defined street food as “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011). We have consistently held that baked goods, like cupcakes, cheesecakes, and pies, are not street food. See In re That Cheesecake Truck, 10 Catt. 4 (2012); In re Sweetbites, 10 Catt. 1 (2012); In re Dangerously Delicious Pies, 4 Catt. 4 (2011). Although donuts would seem to easily fit into the non-street-food category of baked goods, MDB’s donuts are different. For one thing, they are deep-fried, not baked. More importantly, they meet the three elements of the “street food” test. First, they can be prepared in front of the customer. When MDB sets up at farmers’ markets in Northern Virginia, customers can watch MDB make the donut batter and then fry the rings. Second, donuts are meant to be eaten with your hands, for how else would you get to enjoy the pleasure of licking any excess frosting/sugary topping from your fingers? Finally, donuts can be easily eaten while standing up. Therefore, MDB’s donut bites are proper street food, and this Cart presumes that the donuts should be affirmed. For the reasons below, I would affirm MDB’s donuts even without this presumption.

APPLE CIDER DONUT BITES

MDB’s menu is simple. It sells bite-sized donuts, plus coffee. A bag of 6 donut bites is $3, a bag of 12 is $5, and a bag of 26 is $10. A 16-oz. cup of coffee is $1.50. On my visit, MDB had apple cider donut bites available. It creates other flavors, including red velvet donut bites with cream cheese frosting.

Apple Cider Donut Bites

Although I think of donuts more as a breakfast item than as a dessert, MDB’s apple cider donut bites were a sweet way to end my afternoon meal. MDB explains that they are “made with local apple cider and fresh apples then tossed in a delicious cinnamon-sugar mixture.” The hot, made-to-order mini donut rings were a perfect size to pop in the mouth. The apple cider flavor was appealing, and the cinnamon-sugar made it addictive. The donut bites were generously tossed in the cinnamon-sugar mixture, as evidenced by the sugary mound at the bottom of my bag, and yet they managed not to be too sweet. To my delight, the donut bites were light, fluffy, and not heavy in the stomach, which made it easy to keep reaching into my bag for another, and another, and one last piece, and then just one more. . . and one more.

For those who want to kick up the sweetness, MDB has a help-yourself toppings bar with options such as homemade raspberry preserves, white chocolate, dark chocolate, caramel, and rainbow sprinkles. The apple cider donuts were delicious on their own and did not need any toppings, but I tried the raspberry preserves (because I can’t resist homemade foodstuff) and white chocolate (because white chocolate goes so well with raspberry). Both toppings were spot on.

CONCLUSION

The members of this Cart typically wait a few months before reviewing a new food truck in order to serve the causes of fairness and justice. I made an exception here because (1) although new to the line of food trucks during the weekday lunch service, MDB has been serving its donut bites on weekend mornings at farmers’ markets in Northern Virginia (e.g., Westover, Falls Church, Vienna, Dale City) for over a year; and (2) I find no fault in MDB’s donut bites.

I conclude that MDB knows how to make a hot, fresh, and tasty donut. Usually when I grab donuts on the run from convenience stores or breakfast chains I end up regretting the wasted calories, but not here. There is no comparison. These donuts are worth it. And I can’t wait to try more donut bite flavors for breakfast or dessert.

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

Before the Cart today is Kafta Mania (“KM”), a Lebanese food truck serving the streets of Virginia. Last week I reviewed KM’s Classic Kafta sandwich and stuffed grape leaves, see In re Kafta Mania, 17 Catt. 2 (2013), and now I consider its Halloumi Cheese Panini and baba ghanoush.

I. The Street Food Test

The first issue to be settled can be done so easily. Our regular reader knows that in order to establish who bears the burden of proof in this case, it must be determined whether the food before us qualifies as “street food.”  Street food is entitled to the presumption of affirmance by this court, unless the Cart meets the high burden to prove that there is something wrong with the food. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012). We have defined street food as “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011).

Our case law is clear that sandwiches are street food. See, e.g., In re Kababji Food Truck, 15 Catt. 2 (2012); In re Hometown Heros, 14 Catt. 2 (2012); In re Pepe, 13 Catt. 4 (2012); In re Wassub, 13 Catt. 1 (2012); In re Borinquen Lunch Box, 10 Catt. 3 (2012); In re Willie’s Po’Boy, 7 Catt. 4 (2012); Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2. What is more, because a sandwich is the main component of the meal being reviewed today, the side dish does not need to be street food for the presumption of affirmance to apply. See In re OoH DaT ChickeN, 16 Catt. 3 (2013) (explaining that where “the principal component of a food truck combination platter is reasonably considered ‘street food,’ the presumption of affirmance should apply.”). Thus, without determining whether baba ghanoush is street food, I can say that KM is entitled to the presumption that this Cart should affirm its dishes in toto.

Halloumi Cheese Panini with Baba Ghanoush

 II. Halloumi Cheese Panini ($6.99)

KM describes its Halloumi Cheese Panini as “[g]rilled halloumi cheese, tomato and oregano on a 6 inch baguette.” I have tasted a great many cheeses in my life, but I have never had the pleasure to try Halloumi cheese before. (I also have never tried Wensleydale cheese, but I hear good things about it from a cheese connoisseur named Wallace, and I hope to try it soon.) My law clerk tells me that Halloumi is a white cheese with a high melting point. If I had opened my Styrofoam container expecting a melted and oozy grilled cheese sandwich, I might have been disappointed. Maybe, for a second, until I gave KM’s panini a try. The Halloumi cheese was texturally similar to mozzarella, except a bit drier and saltier. It was quite tasty. The combination of cheese, tomato, and oregano was very classic, but with a slightly salty twist. Everything was encased nicely by KM’s choice of bread. The sandwich roll developed beautiful grill marks and a nice crust on the outside.

III. Baba Ghanoush ($1.50)

KM’s baba ghanoush, a mix of mashed eggplant, tahini, garlic, and lemon, was served with pita chips. The chips and dip were very good. The baba ghanoush was marked by a strong smoky taste, which was probably the result of the eggplant being expertly roasted over an open flame. The pita chips were fresh, crunchy, herby, and salty. The pita chips ran out before my portion of baba ghanoush did, but I was more than happy to eat the baba ghanoush on its own . . . and then maybe clean off my Styrofoam container so as to not miss a single drop.

IV. Conclusion

 For the reasons above, the case is

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

I granted cartiorari to Kafta Mania (“KM”), a food truck serving up Lebanese food. KM’s menu features a variety of sandwiches, including three versions of a kafta sandwich, and side dishes like hummus, baba ghanoush, and stuffed grape leaves. In today’s opinion, I review KM’s signature sandwich, the so-called Classic Kafta, as well as the stuffed grape leaves. In a companion case to be discussed next week, In re Kafta Mania, 17 Catt. 3 (2012), I review KM’s Halloumi Cheese Panini with a side of baba ghanoush.

My first question upon seeing a black-painted food truck with “Kafta Mania” written in white bold letters was, “What is kafta?” KM’s website explains that kafta is “made by grinding meat, mixing it with spices, and forming it into balls or cylinders for cooking.” In other words, kafta is a mix of ground meat and spices, which is shaped into a meatball or patty, and then grilled (or baked or fried). In other other words, kafta is kind of like a hamburger.

In the case of KM’s Classic Kafta, the ground meat is beef; the spices include (at least) parsley, salt, and pepper; and the shape is a rectangular patty. The patty is topped with tomato, red onions, and KM’s “special Mediterranean sauce.” It is then served on a six-inch baguette. (I did not measure KM’s bread, but I assume that KM means to give a measurement of the bread’s length, unlike Subway which describes the length of its subs without intending to give a measurement of length.)

Kafta Mania

Before I discuss the merits of KM’s Classic Kafta, I must determine whether the sandwich and side order before the Cart today are street food. This Cart has defined street food as “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” See In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011). This Cart has repeatedly held that sandwiches are street food. See, e.g., In re Kababji Food Truck, 15 Catt. 2 (2012); In re Hometown Heros, 14 Catt. 2 (2012); In re Pepe, 13 Catt. 4 (2012); In re Wassub, 13 Catt. 1 (2012); In re Borinquen Lunch Box, 10 Catt. 3 (2012); In re Willie’s Po’Boy, 7 Catt. 4 (2012); In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012).

A dish’s status as street food affects the burden of proof in its case before the Cart. We presume that street food should be fully affirmed unless we meet the high burden to prove that there is something wrong with the food. See Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2. Because KM’s Classic Kafta is street food, I need not determine whether the side dish of stuffed grape leaves is street food. This is because where “the principal component of a food truck combination platter is reasonably considered ‘street food,’ the presumption of affirmance should apply.” In re OoH DaT ChickeN, 16 Catt. 3 (2013). Here, the principal component (a sandwich) is street food, so the entire sandwich-and-side-dish platter must be affirmed, unless I show that there is a significant flaw with the platter.

Classic Kafta with Stuffed Grape Leaves

I now turn to the Classic Kafta ($7.99). I start first with the bread–the first thing that one’s teeth sinks into when eating the sandwich. Although I have a great passion for crusty bread (especially when dipped into a mix of olive oil and balsamic vinegar), I was afraid that KM’s choice of bread would ruin the sandwich. I feared that a baguette would be too rough against the roof of the mouth and too tough to chew. But to my great delight, I was wrong. KM’s choice of bread (more of a roll than a baguette) was very pleasing–lightly toasted on the outside, and soft and fluffy on the inside.

The filling was even more pleasing. The ground beef patty was succulent when it very easily could have been dried out like an overcooked hamburger. And it was packed with flavor. Whatever was mixed in with the beef (certainly onion and parsley, and maybe allspice and garlic) gave it a very full flavor. The add-ons of a fresh tomato slice, diced red onions, and KM’s special sauce completed the sandwich nicely. The overall effect was a well-rounded, earthy flavor that I’ve never quite tasted before. It was delicious.

My side of stuffed grape leaves ($2 for 4 pieces) matched the high quality of the sandwich. I must admit that I’ve never enjoyed stuffed grape leaves before, but KM’s version changed my mind about the dish. The versions I’ve had in the past either used mint leaves too heavily (I’m not a fan of fresh mint leaves) or didn’t quite manage to fuse the grape leaves and filling into a cohesive dish. KM didn’t do the first and achieved the second. Plus, KM’s stuffed grape leaves were obviously homemade and very, very fresh.

My sandwich-and-one-side lunch came out to $10. Although on the pricey side, the food was very good. And, for me, it was worth paying a little more than usual for lunch in order to try something (i.e., kafta) that I’ve never eaten before. For all these reasons, the case is

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

We granted cartiorari to Yumpling, which describes itself as “DC’s first and finest dumplings coming fresh out of [a] tricked out truck.” This Cart has previously tried dumplings from a food truck, one based in Arlington, VA. At the time, I wished (to no avail) that the food truck, called Hot People Food, would change its menu to focus exclusively on dumplings—steamed dumplings, fried dumplings, and soup dumplings. See In re Hot People Food, 6 Catt. 4 (2012) (Cattleya, J., concurring). I wanted a dumpling truck on our streets then, and almost a year later, I’m still looking for a dumpling truck. Is Yumpling that dumpling truck?

Yumpling

I. Street Food

Our first order of business is to determine whether Yumpling’s dumplings are “street food” as the Cart has defined the term. This is an issue of who bears the burden of proof in this case. Street food, defined as “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up,” In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011), is entitled to the presumption that it should be affirmed by this court, unless we can show that the food suffers from a significant flaw. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012). It is the well-settled case law of this judicial body that dumplings are street food. See Hot People Food, 6 Catt. 4. Thus, we have the burden to prove a flaw or else we must conclude that Yumpling’s dumplings belong on the streets.

Beef Dumplings

II. Yumpling’s Beef Dumplings

When we visited Yumpling, it was serving beef, chicken, and vegetable steamed dumplings. It has since added pork and shrimp dumplings to the menu. You can get six pieces for $5 or 10 pieces for $8. Any order can mix and match the different fillings. We opted for six beef dumplings. For the New Year’s calorie counters among us (which includes me), Yumpling advertises that six dumplings are less than 300 calories. You also have the option to pair your dumplings with a side of lobster bisque or edamame. As we were looking for dumplings as an appetizer to start off a long day of oral arguments, we passed on the add-ons. (Plus, our palates—prepared for Asian-style dumplings—were a bit confused by the inclusion of a creamy French-style soup.)

As we explained when we granted cartiorari to a dumpling meal in a previous case, there are two principal considerations of a dumpling: (1) the skin and (2) the filling. See Hot People Food, 6 Catt. 4. In Yumpling’s case, the skin was done well. It was chewy and not too thin. For the most part, it held up to the steaming process (only one dumpling in our container of six was not intact). The beef filling was mild but nice. The problem was that there was so little of it inside each dumpling. I wish there had been more so that the beef flavor came through in every bite. Overall, the dumplings were like the dumplings from your everyday cheap takeout restaurant. Not amazing, but not bad.

In the end, Yumpling is not the dumpling truck of my dreams. I’m still waiting for a food truck to pull up in front of the court with a menu of steamed, fried, and soup dumplings. Dumplings of different textures and different flavors. Dumplings to fill the stomach and warm the soul.

III. Conclusion

For the reasons above, the case is

AFFIRMED in part and REMANDED in part to Yumpling for revision.

JEREMY, C.J., concurring.

I agree with every line of my sister’s well-reasoned opinion. I write separately only because it would pain me not to have the last word.

I granted cartiorari to BD Heartily, a food cart that sets up regularly in Rosslyn. BD Heartily is a two-in-one food cart, serving both Indian and Middle Eastern food. While its Indian dishes are pre-prepared, many of its Halal dishes are cooked to order. For a food cart with a lot of different dishes on the menu, it’s efficiently run by one person.

BD Heartily

On my visit I was looking for cheap but good Indian food, something to compete with the closest Indian lunch special in the area. Brick-and-mortar restaurant Delhi Dhaba offers a weekday special for two curries and rice for $6.95. For almost one dollar less at $5.99, BD Heartily offers two curries and either rice or naan. A promising start.

The choices of curries are: palak paneer, chicken curry, chana masala, lamb curry, and butter chicken. I chose palak paneer, which I can never resist, see In re Salt and Pepper Grill, 6 Catt. 1 (2012); In re Salt and Pepper Grill, 8 Catt. 2 (2012); In re fojol bros., 8 Catt. 3 (2012). For my second curry, I opted for lamb curry. Although the lunch special came with rice, I also threw in naan for an extra $1.50. How could I not have naan to sop up the curries?

Like other rice platters that have come before this court, BD Heartily’s lunch special is not true street food, i.e., “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.”  See In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011) (defining street food); Salt and Pepper Grill, 8 Catt. 3 (holding that an Indian food platter was not true street food). Consequently, BD Heartily is not entitled to the presumption that its food should be affirmed by this tribunal. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012). For the reasons below, I affirm in part and remand in part for revision.

Lamb Curry, Palak Paneer, Rice & Naan

I walked away from BD Heartily with a heavy carton of food. More than enough for lunch, certainly. It was good, although not great. The palak paneer was creamy and still tasted like spinach, which I find is often not the case as more cream is added to this dish. To my disappointment, however, my serving had very few pieces of paneer. The chunks of lamb in the curry, fortunately, were plentiful. They were also tender and tasty. The curry was rich and tasted strongly of cinnamon, but I would have liked it to be spicier. The most surprising let-down was the naan, which was not naan at all. It was gyro pita bread. A consequence of the  dual menu, I suppose.

BD Heartily’s platter had some flaws (like the non-naan), but it was also a lot of food for the price. Which is to say that it filled me up, but it was shy of fully satisfying my craving for Indian food. Still, BD Heartily was a good, affordable find.

AFFIRMED in part and REMANDED in part to BD Heartily for revision. It is so ordered.

I granted cartiorari to La Tingeria, the maker of authentic Mexican fare, including tingas, sopes, and tacos. I’ll start with my conclusion in this case: La Tingeria has become one of my favorite food trucks. It might even be my favorite. Simple, delicious food that fills you up. No unnecessary frills or gourmet gimmicks. Affordable. No, more than affordable — it’s a downright steal. And — although I’m usually the type to want to try something new over going back for seconds of something I’ve already had — I want to go back to La Tingeria again and again. In fact, by the time you read this, I’ve already been back for more.

La Tingeria

The operation of La Tingeria isn’t perfect. On my first visit, the guys in the truck — who were very pleasant and friendly — seemed to be working out mix-ups with orders. But, as our regular reader should know by now, this tribunal is not the kind to give out one star to a restaurant that serves good food but makes you wait ten minutes for a glass of water. Food is king around here. (Hmm, wait, we don’t give out any stars. And we don’t review restaurants, not the brick-and-mortar variety anyway.) The point is, when the food is as good as La Tingeria’s, I’m more than happy to deal with some service bumps, especially ones as minor as these.

Before I can get to the food, I must pause for a moment to say that La Tingeria’s offering are true “street food” — i.e., “the kind[] . . . that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011); see also In re El Chilango, 12 Catt. 2 (2012) (finding that tacos, cousin to tingas, sopes, etc., are street food).  As true street food, according to our precedents, I must affirm La Tingeria’s offerings unless I prove that there is something seriously wrong with them. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012).  I already tipped my hat on this point: there is not.

La Tingeria’s menu follows a pretty basic rule: you pick a meat, then you pick a vehicle to contain it. When I visited, the “vehicle” options were: tinga; sope; taco; and quesadilla. And the meats: braised beef brisket or shredded chicken for the tingas; and chorizo, beef, or chicken for everything else. Each item was $2.50. La Tingeria also served elotes locos for $2 each. At other times there have been flautas, tamales, and soup on the menu.

Beef Tinga, Chorizo Quesadilla & Elote Loco

Here’s what I’ve had (so far):

Beef Tinga. The tinga was basically an open-faced tostada: fried tortilla + beef brisket + lettuce + queso fresco. The beef brisket was marinated in a caramelized onion and chipotle sauce. It was the perfect mix of sweet and spicy. The spiciness was neither instant nor overwhelming. It slowly built in the back of my mouth. The cheese and chopped lettuce tempered down the heat and added some smoothness (the cheese) and a slight crunch (the lettuce). The tostada miraculously stood up to the weight of the saucy meat, lettuce, and cheese and didn’t get soggy. Even the very last bite was met with the sound of teeth breaking into deep-fried goodness.

Chorizo Quesadilla. The quesadilla was like none I had ever seen before in a Tex-Mex restaurant. It was more like a deep-fried taco (corn flour tortilla, of course) stuffed to the brink with mozzarella and chorizo, and then topped off with lettuce, tomato, and sour cream. The deep-fried casing was wonderfully doughy and crispy at the same time. And how could I not love the large chunks of greasy, flavorful ground chorizo? It was indulgence at its very best. My only complaint was that the cheese at the bottom didn’t intermingle with the meat and toppings above it, so sometimes I felt like I was eating a cheese quesadilla and sometimes a chorizo quesadilla.

Elote Loco. When I think of street food from now on, I will think of this: Steamed corn on the cob, smothered in a mayo sauce, topped off with crumbled Mexican cheese, chili powder, and a squish of lime, and then served on a skewer. The corn was sweet, the toppings were creamy and decadent. I knew that much mayo was bad for me, but I didn’t care.

Now, about portion sizes. I originally thought I’d need at least three items to make a meal. But La Tingeria’s dishes are the stick-to-your-ribs kind that keep you satisfied for hours and hours. One or two should suffice for lunch. And this is coming from a gal who once was told she ate enough for a football team.

And to answer the question in the reader’s mind, yes, La Tingeria’s eat-with-your-hands food makes for messy eating, but the devouring of good grub is worth it. Besides, that’s why we have napkins . . . and fellow Justices who aren’t afraid to tell you when you have something stuck in your teeth.

I conclude with a very important note. Soon after this opinion comes out, La Tingeria plans to stop serving sopes, quesadillas, and elotes loco. It will be unveiling a new menu — it’s keeping the tingas and tacos and adding tortas. Personally, I don’t think La Tingeria needed a menu change, but I look forward to trying whatever this sublime food truck has to offer.

On a bright and brisk afternoon, we granted cartiorari to Dangerously Delicious Pies (“DDP”), the mobile maker of sweet and savory pies. DDP has once before been reviewed by this court. On our first visit DDP’s blackberry pie didn’t satisfy, but we ordered it at the end of an all-day food truck festival and the Chief Justice surmised that our slice would have been less disappointing had we ordered it earlier in the day. He left open the question of “whether a lunchtime pie [would] provide[] a more pleasurable experience.” In re Dangerously Delicious Pies, 4 Catt. 4 (2011). Truth be told, I was less enthusiastic than he to return to DDP’s window. In the words of Pride and Prejudice’s Mr. Darcy, “[m]y good opinion once lost, is lost for ever.” But like Jane Austen’s hero, I recognize this is a folly in my character, and so I put my past feelings aside and returned to DDP for chicken pot pie.

Dangerously Delicious Pies

 I. STREET FOOD

Before reaching the merits of the pie, first I address whether chicken pot pie is “street food.” Pie fails our Eat Wonky test for street food. Dangerously Delicious Pies, 4 Catt. 4 (concluding that pie is not street food); In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011) (defining street food as “the kind[] . . . that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up”). Because pie is not street food, there is no presumption of affirmance in this case, and DDP’s chicken pot pie must stand up on its own merits. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012).

II. CHICKEN POT PIE ($7.50)

I hate to admit when the Chief Justice is right, but right he was to want to give DDP another try. DDP’s chicken pot pie was indeed a pleasurable experience, one with several surprises along the way. The first surprise was that it was actually a pie, with a top and bottom crust. This was no “cheat” pie made with a meager square of puff pastry on top. The second surprise was that the pie was stuffed (I mean, stuffed) with filling. I even blinked twice to make sure that I was seeing what I was seeing. Oh, I thought, a chicken pot pie that doesn’t require me to go fishing in a lake of thick cream sauce for a few chunks of chicken and a handful of once-frozen peas and carrots! Finally, a pie of substance! My hopes were high. But would it taste as good as it looked? Gasp! It did.

Chicken Pot Pie with Side Salad

DDP’s chicken pot pie was made with “roasted chicken, potatoes, carrots, peas, corn, cream, and herbs.” The filling was delicious. The chicken was juicy and well-seasoned. It tasted of rosemary and sage. (I’m not sure whether there was marjoram too, but there should have been. Marjoram, most unfortunately, is an underused herb.) The potatoes were hearty, the corn was sweet, the peas and carrots were comforting. It was exactly what I needed on a chilly day.

Now about that pie crust. It wasn’t as buttery and flaky as I expected from a pie that was once featured on “Paula’s Best Dishes” (as in the Food Network’s Paula Deen), but it was good. It held up against the thick filling and didn’t sog. And unlike our first experience, the crust tasted fresh, not old and stale. Bottom line: The crust did its job well as a supporting player; it let the filling be the star.

As a final note, DDP’s served its chicken pot pie with a side salad (as it does for all of its savory pies). The salad consisted of mixed field greens with a balsamic vinaigrette dressing. I would call the salad deceptively simple. The dressing was sweet and rich and better than your average balsamic vinaigrette. I enjoyed it almost as much as the pie.

III. CONCLUSION

Sometimes first impressions are wrong. I ordered and ate DDP’s chicken pot pie without regret. Darn fine pie. Even without the presumption of affirmance for true street food, the case is

AFFIRMED.

JEREMY, C.J., concurring.

This is perhaps my sister’s most cogent decision for it is in this decision she admits I am right. Indeed, I am generally right when it comes to matters of pie. I would add only that savory, like marjoram, is, “most unfortunately,” an “underused herb.”

We granted cartiorari to Langston Grille on Wheels (“LGW”), the mobile component of Washington, DC restaurant Langston Bar & Grille. LGW’s kitchen cooks up soul food. On this day, the Chief Justice and I needed some real comfort food to soothe the tension that had been brewing in our court. Ever since he took advantage of my absence to hear the case of In re Brennan’s, 1 Jer. 1 (2012), relating to a New Orleans brick-and-mortar restaurant that is plainly outside this court’s jurisdiction, communications between us have been cold indeed. I even began to suspect that the Chief Justice, who bears a close resemblance to the very late Supreme Court Justice William Cushing (1732-1810), had lost his mind, just as Justice Cushing had. See David J. Garrow, Mental Decrepitude on the U.S. Supreme Court: The Historical Case for a 28th Amendment, 67 U. CHI. L. REV. 995 (2000). But my duties to the court, to mobile gastronomy, and to the reader weighed heavily on me, and so, without any hard evidence of the Chief Justice’s mental incapacity, I managed to stand side-by-side with him in front of LGW’s window.

Langston Grille on Wheels

LGW’s menu consists of several meat options (brisket, pulled pork, oxtail, roast chicken, jerk wings, shrimp, and fried fish), a few side dishes (macaroni & cheese, collard greens, dirty rice), and some desserts (sweet potato pie, sweet potato cheesecake, peach cobbler). The exact menu changes daily, and LGW announces the day’s line-up on Twitter every morning.

Luckily, on the day of our visit, LGW had oxtail on the menu. The Chief Justice and I disagree about many things, but one thing that we always agree on is the consumption of food that is hard to come by, such as oxtail from a food truck. We paired our oxtail with a side of macaroni and cheese and topped off our order with sweet potato pie. LGW prices one meat plus one side at $10. Desserts are $3.

I. STREET FOOD

Our regular reader knows that first we must decide whether our order (oxtail, macaroni and cheese, sweet potato pie) is true street food. If yes, then we presume that LGW’s food should be affirmed. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012). This court has defined street food as “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.”  In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011). Oxtail, macaroni and cheese, and sweet potato pie are not cooked in front of you, are not meant to be eaten with your hands while standing up, and are not street food. Our case law supports this conclusion. In re Hot People Food, 7 Catt. 2 (2012) (meat not served in hand-held bread container was not street food); In re Basil Thyme, 8 Catt. 1 (2012) (pasta was not street food); In re Dangerously Delicious Pies, 4 Catt. 4 (2011) (pie was not street food). LGW’s food is not entitled to the presumption of affirmance. However, its food proved itself on its own merits, and we affirm.

II. LANGSTON GRILLE ON WHEELS

As the Chief Justice and I stood in line, we got the impression that LGW attracted many regulars. We heard many greetings by first name and just as many “See you next Thursday” farewells. With that many regulars, we began to hope that we had stumbled on a good food truck find.

Oxtail, macaroni & cheese, and sweet potato pie

We opened up our Styrofoam container and were at once struck by the big serving of oxtail. We didn’t know exactly what we were getting since the menu simply said “ox-tail,” but as oxtail is usually slow-cooked or braised, we expected something like that. And that’s what we got: braised meat that was fork-tender and fell off the bone, all swimming in a flavor-packed beef broth with carrots. We cleaned off the bones, licked our fingers, and then stared longingly at the broth remaining in the container. Oh, how we wished we could magically pull out bread from our pockets to sop up the delicious broth!

On a side note, it was refreshing to see that LGW didn’t clutter its menu items with over-detailed descriptions of every step of the food preparation. You know, like “breast of chicken massaged with the finest olive oil, spiced with thyme, marjoram, rosemary, and black pepper, and then grilled over smokey wood chips.” LGW left it at “ox-tail.” It was enough information for us.

Next, we turned our forks to the macaroni and cheese. Our regular reader knows by now how much I love the orange foodstuff. The court’s first meeting with macaroni and cheese had sour results despite a very appetizing-looking mac. See In re CapMac, 1 Catt. 1 (2011). I will admit that at first glance LGW’s version did not look like much. The noodles didn’t carry a deeply orange hue, and there weren’t many visible strings of cheese hanging off the noodles. But we’re often told that looks can be deceiving, and in this case it was. I liked LGW’s macaroni and cheese. The noodles were al dente, and the cheese flavor came through just enough. It wasn’t mushy Velveeta soup like the macaroni and cheeses found at Boston Market and KFC, and it wasn’t unnecessarily drenched in seven different kinds of cheese like Delilah’s. People who prefer gooey macaroni and cheese would probably call this tasteless, but to me it was simple in the way that is satisfying.

A serving of sweet potato pie completed our meal. Given the Chief Justice’s love of pie, he could wax more eloquently about the smoothness of the sweet potato and the harmonious blend of nutmeg, cinnamon, and vanilla. I will just say that LGW knows how to bake a sweet potato pie. I did wish that we had a slice of pie instead of a mini pie round, but that’s about form, not substance.

III. CONCLUSION

LGW was a pleasant surprise. The braised oxtail was tender and tasty. The not-too-cheesy-or-mushy macaroni and cheese was enjoyable. The sweet potato pie disappeared quickly. And best of all, by the time we finished our lunch of soul and comfort, the Chief Justice and I were congenial colleagues once again.

AFFIRMED.

JEREMY, C.J., concurring.

What a cruel and vile thing to insinuate that I am or have been mentally incapacitated. My only mental decrepitude is a deep and honest devotion to the majesty of the Law. I would have thought that a shared and delicious stewed oxtail would have thawed my sister’s cold and activist and rebellious heart. But I see that I was mistaken. Foolish me. “[C]ongenial colleagues once again” my foot. You will not catch the two of us at the opera together any time soon.

But that is to delve too deeply into the politics of this body. When struck, I am wont to strike back. I must work on that.

And so onto the case at hand, upon which my sister and I do agree. I have no point of dissent.

However, my sister writes that, given my love of pie, it is I who should “wax . . . eloquently about the smoothness of the sweet potato and the harmonious blend of nutmeg, cinnamon, and vanilla.” As she was absent the day it was upon us to decide In re Brennan’s, my sister once more abdicates her judicial responsibilities. But yes, o sister, the sweet potato was smooth, and yes, o sister, the blend of flavorings was harmonious. I, like you, would affirm.

A long day of hearing cases already behind us, we arrived at Rolls on Rolls (“ROR”) to sample its “delicious BAKED samosas.” The truck’s name, “Rolls on Rolls,” refers to the “kathi,” or “kati,” roll, a typical Kolkatan street food. However, judgment of ROR’s kathi roll will have to await the light of another day. In this instance, we granted cartiorari to consider the samosa.

Rolls on Rolls

First, we must consider whether the samosa is “street food.” If it is, we must affirm ROR’s samosa unless we can show it is a significantly flawed dish. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012). We have defined “street food” as “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011). The samosa clearly meets this test. Because we find no significant flaw with ROR’s samosa, we must affirm.

Samosas

ROR’s samosa is a not atypical samosa. It is as good a samosa as any I have had. It gave the impression of a fried samosa, but I am informed by ROR’s Facebook page that is baked instead. I am therefore pretending it is an entirely healthy snack. The samosa’s filling, primarily potato, was tasty and well seasoned. The accompanying chutney was fresh and complementary. Service was adequate, and the price ($2 each) was reasonable.

In the end, this is a rather lilliputian decision, primarily because ROR’s samosa was a competent samosa without discernible flaw. A $2 samosa is a quick and delightful mid-day treat — in other words, everything street food should be.

AFFIRMED.

CATTLEYA, J., concurring.

All too often, baked versions of foods that are meant to be fried pale in comparison to the real thing. Baked Cheetos, for example, are mealy and lack the hard crunch of real Cheetos. And the powdered cheese sticks more to the fingers than to the actual snack piece. For these reasons, Baked Cheetos can never replace original Cheetos in my heart, mouth, or stomach.

ROR’s baked samosa, on the other hand, did not have me rushing out to find a fried version. There was crispness. There was flavor. There was even some grease. If the Chief Justice hadn’t repeatedly pointed out that we were eating a “healthy snack,” I wouldn’t have noticed that the samosa was baked.

Before the Supreme Cart is Choupi, a crepe cart in Arlington, VA. We made a sua sponte appearance on a mild, breezy afternoon under Rule of Procedure 2-2, which permits Justices of the Cart to choose food trucks and carts within our jurisdiction to be subject to adjudication. Choupi sets up on the corner of North Lynn Street and 19th Street North in Rosslyn every weekday from the morning to late afternoon. We showed up at the tail end of the lunch hour rush, and there was still a line of people. Hoping that the length of the line correlated with the quality of the crepes, we waited for our turn.

Choupi

 I. TRUE “STREET FOOD”

Before we turn to a review of Choupi’s crepes, the Cart must determine whether crepes are “street food.” If crepes are street food, then we must affirm Choupi’s crepes unless we can show that they are not worthy of being served on our streets. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012). We have defined street food as “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011). We have also recognized that food that has traditionally been consumed as street food around the world usually satisfies our own definition. Cf. In re Street Vendor Near National Mall, 9 Catt. 5 (2012). Because crepes not only are something of a national dish in France but are also served as street food, we hold that crepes are street food under our definition. Therefore, Choupi’s crepes are entitled to the presumption of affirmance by this court. However, for the reasons below, we would affirm Choupi’s crepes even without this presumption. The crepes are just that good.

II. CHOUPI

Choupi is operated by one person, probably because the cart is so small that it only fits one person, plus two crepe griddles. The two griddles, of course, mean that only two crepes can be made at a time. Perhaps those in a rush will consider this arrangement to be inconvenient, but we found comfort in the personal service and made-to-order meal. There are no shortcuts that sacrifice quality, there is no lazy warming up of stale, pre-assembled parts.

The menu is simple. The base price for a crepe is $3.50. Each filling is an additional 50 cents. There are “savory” meat fillings (like ham and turkey), vegetable fillings (like mushroom and spinach), and cheese fillings (like mozzarella and feta). There are “sweet” fruit fillings (like banana and apple cinnamon), nut fillings (like pecan and almond), and sauce fillings (like nutella and caramel). You can mix and match however you like. If you can’t decide, there’s a list of Choupi’s favorite crepe combinations for breakfast, lunch, and dessert. One of Choupi’s recommended desserts is a crepe with nutella, bananas, and pecans. We opted to try a version with walnuts in place of pecans.

Crepe with nutella, bananas, and walnuts

III. CREPE WITH NUTELLA, BANANAS, AND WALNUTS

I was twelve years old when I tried my first crepe. I was in Paris without my parents, and I nearly died on the spot when I saw that I could have something stuffed with nutella and bananas for lunch. Ever since then, every crepe that I’ve ordered has included nutella and bananas. Simple, but highly satisfying.

That twelve-year-old wondered about two things that I still haven’t figured out. First, why would you eat a savory crepe when you could indulge in a sweet crepe? Second, how can a nutella-and-banana crepe ever come out bad? Choupi’s nutella-banana-walnut crepe was so good that it did nothing to help me solve these very important questions.

The batter was made into the perfect crepe pancake. Don’t get me wrong–this was no thick, fluffy Aunt Jemima pancake. Choupi’s crepe was thin enough to develop a crispy–even flaky–outside, and yet it was still soft and chewy inside. As I said, it was perfect.

The fillings worked well together. There were large slices of bananas, not skimpy slivers. The nutella was generously applied, but it was not excessive. It melted just the right amount to bind the bananas and walnuts, but it did not messily ooze out and make a mess on the face or in the hands. The walnuts gave a nice bitter flavor to tone down the sweetness of the nutella.

The crepe was so good that I just wanted to keep eating and eating. And the best part was that the crepe was so large in size (huge, really) that the experience didn’t end too soon. We ordered this as a dessert, but it would have been more than enough to fill my stomach as a main course.

IV. CONCLUSION

Choupi’s made-to-order crepe with nutella, bananas, and walnuts was a great find in Rosslyn. The thin, crispy crepe was skillfully made, and the fillings satisfied my sweet tooth. It was a great deal, too. For $5, we got a huge crepe with three kinds of fillings. We left full and happy, and we will surely be back for more.

AFFIRMED.

JEREMY, C.J., concurring.

I heartily agree with my sister’s assessment of Choupi. I do, however, part ways with my sister in a certain decision she has made in writing her otherwise well-reasoned opinion. The subject of our present adjudication is properly represented graphically as crêpe and not as, my sister writes, crepe. For one, there is a certain ambiguity in the orthographic sequence ‘crepe,’ sans circumflex. Do I care to eat “a soft thin light fabric with a crinkled surface,” “rubber in sheets used especially for shoe soles, or, in Ireland, “a death notice printed on white card with a background of black crepe paper or cloth, placed on the door of a residence or business”? Indeed, I do not. More importantly, we have previously acknowledged the importance of diacritical marks, see In re Sâuçá, 4 Catt. 3 (2011), and so I am disappointed in my sister’s alarming nonchalance in this case. Our rôle should be always that of the respectful arbiter. A crêpe as good as Choupi’s has earned its hat and certainly deserves better treatment at my sister’s hand.

During my travels over the Supreme Cart’s summer recess, I came across a Mexican food truck (trailer, really) in Greenacres, Florida. Tacos al Carbon offered a wide variety of tacos. First, there were the options that you find at your local Chipotle chain, like steak and barbacoa. Then there were the choices typically found at Mexican restaurants, like carne molida (ground beef), al pastor (pork), and chorizo (pork sausage). And then–most interestingly to my palate–came the less usual options, like lengua (beef tongue), tripa (beef tripe), and chicharron (pork skin).

Tacos al Carbon in Greenacres, FL

Although the Florida-situated Tacos al Carbon fell outside the Cart’s jurisdiction, I stopped by to sample a taste of the larger food truck scene. I ordered a crunchy taco with carne asada (grilled steak), a soft taco with lengua, and another soft taco with tripa. My $5.99 three taco lunch special came with rice and beans.

Three Tacos with Rice and Beans

Upon my return to the Cart, I was pleased to discover a Mexican food truck within our jurisdiction — El Chilango (“EC”) in Arlington — that also served up tacos with unusual meat fillings. Even more exciting, the tacos were of the authentic Mexican kind, rather than the more common Tex-Mex variety. (Think cilantro, onion, lime and spicy salsa in place of tomatoes, cheese, sour cream, and guacamole.) The Justices of this Cart immediately granted cartiorari to EC.

El Chilango in Arlington, VA

  I. TRUE “STREET FOOD”

Because there is no question that tacos are “street food” as this court has defined the term, EC’s  tacos must be affirmed unless the Cart can meet the high burden to prove that EC’s tacos do not belong on the street. See In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011) (defining street food as “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up”); In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012) (explaining that street food is entitled to the presumption of affirmance); In re Sol Mexican Grill, 9 Catt. 4 (2012) (finding that tacos are street food). This Cart cannot even begin to rebut the presumption of affirmance.

II. EL CHILANGO

EC is a quiet member of Arlington’s food truck scene. It does not rely on splashy graphics or social media. It parks in the same spot in a residential neighborhood every Monday through Saturday from 11am to 8pm. Although it’s within walking distance (around 10 minutes) from the Rosslyn metro station, it’s out of the way to grab a quick lunch or dinner, especially considering the line of food trucks and carts that are conveniently parked right outside the metro station. EC is parked in an area (usually near 14th Street N. and N. Queen Street) that doesn’t benefit from heavy foot traffic, which means that most diners purposely go out of their way to get to EC. EC’s location might seem like a strike against it, but it’s actually a great sign in favor of it. When paying customers go out of their way just to get to an eating establishment, it’s usually an indication that the food is worth it. And, in EC’s case, it was. (Perhaps another sign of how good the food is, EC recently launched a brick-and-mortar location at 1119 V St. NW in the District.)

EC’s menu is simple. It makes tacos, and only tacos. There are six types:

1. pollo (chicken);
2. al pastor (pork);
3. carne asada (grilled steak);
4. chorizo (pork sausage);
5. mixto (mix of carne asada and chorizo); and
6. lengua (beef tongue).

EC’s tacos are soft, served on toasted corn tortillas. Tacos are topped with onion and cilantro. Fresh radish slices and chopped cucumbers are served on the side. EC provides lime wedges to squeeze on top of the tacos and sets out bottles of salsas verde and rojo on the counter for you to serve yourself. Each taco is a very affordable $2 (cash only). Cf. In re TaKorean, 1 Catt. 4 (2011) ($3.50 per taco or $9 for three tacos); In re Sol Mexican Grill, 9 Catt. 4 (2012) ($7 for three tacos).

Round 1: Tacos with Carne Asada, Pollo, Al Pastor, Chorizo, Lengua, and Mixtos

I ordered one of each. Then after I cleaned off my plate, I went back for another chorizo and carne asada.

Round 2: Tacos with Chorizo and Carne Asada

It is the tradition of this Cart to review each component of a food truck’s offerings, see, e.g., Takorean, 1 Catt. 4, and I see no reason to change that now.

Corn tortillas. Each taco came with two corn–not flour–tortillas. They were lightly grilled. It would be a mistake to view the double layer as a mere stomach-filler; it had an important purpose. Even if the meat juices soaked through one layer, and even if the sogginess caused that tortilla to tear, there was another layer to keep the taco neatly together. This double layer particularly saved the day for the chorizo taco, which came with the sort of eating experience that causes delicious juices to run down your chin and all over your hands.

Meats. All of the meats were well-cooked and tender. The chorizo, carne asada, and al pastor  were especially juicy and flavorful. The chorizo was spicy and salty, the carne asada was nice and beefy, and the al pastor was sweet and smokey. The first two meats left a stronger impression on my palate, as evidenced by my return for second helpings. My law clerk opted for seconds of the chorizo and al pastor. I confess that my preference for asada over al pastor might have more to do with my upbringing in a no-pork kitchen and less to do with the actual merits of the two meats. See In re Floridano, 2 Catt. 2 (2011) (Cattleya, J., concurring) (“Due to my father’s religious restriction on the eating of pork, my mother never cooked it . . . .). The easy agreement that my law clerk and I reached on the chorizo (in spite of my upbringing in a no-pork kitchen) should be a sign of just how delicious it was. Even though the pollo was seasoned sufficiently, it came off as bland in comparison to the pork and beef options. This was not surprising, given the relatively mild flavor of chicken. After all, who would want chicken when you could have chorizo? See In re Red Hook Lobster Pound, 2 Catt. 1 (2011) (“[N]o one in their right mind orders shrimp over lobster.”); In re El Floridano, 2 Catt. 2 (2011) (“[N]o one in their right mind orders [tempeh] over [pork].” (internal quotation marks omitted)).  If I were to do it again, I would eat the pollo taco first, so that my taste buds weren’t coated with the delicious memory of the other meats. Finally, the lengua wasn’t bad, but it didn’t shine either, as I know lengua can. The too-finely chopped lengua had lost most of its firm yet spongy texture and its deep flavor. If I hadn’t known that I was eating lengua, then I wouldn’t have known that I was eating lengua. (I leave it to the reader to decide whether that is a good or bad thing.)

Toppings. Cheese, sour cream, and guacamole were not on EC’s authentic Mexican menu, and they were not missed. The onion, cilantro, and lime provided a cool and fresh topping to balance the heat of the meat and spiciness of the salsas. Both salsas added a garlicky zing that kicked up the flavors of the tacos, though the salsa rojo had a hotter zing than the salsa verde. The more salsa there was, the better the taco tasted. The side of sliced radishes and chopped cucumbers also worked to cool down the heat. In addition, they gave a nice, crisp bite to set off the textural softness of the tacos.

III. CONCLUSION

EC knows how to make a taco. Sure, a couple of the meat fillings (chicken, lengua) didn’t stand out when compared to the excellent quality of the rest (chorizo, carne asada, al pastor), but it was like comparing filet mignon and lobster. One of them had to come in at the bottom of the rankings, but they were all still good. (If forced to rank, I would pick: 1. chorizo, 2. carne asada, 3. al pastor, 4. pollo, 5. lengua.)

The bottom line is this: EC made authentic tacos that didn’t disappoint my stomach or drain my wallet. EC’s tacos are exactly what should be coming out of a food truck’s kitchen. The tacos are meant to be eaten with your hands (even if I had wanted a fork, I didn’t see any). The tacos are meant to be eaten while standing up (in fact, you have to unless you want to sit on the sidewalk). What’s more, I want to go out to eat EC’s tacos because I can’t cook them myself at home. I could try, but it surely would not compare. I will return to EC — and soon.

AFFIRMED.

Green papaya salad is one of those characteristic dishes by which one may assess the quality of an establishment which purports to purvey a particular cuisine. In French restaurants, I tend to sample crème brûlée. In Italian restaurants, tiramisù. In Greek restaurants, galaktoboureko. Of course, waiting till dessert requires one to first plod through a meal of unknown quality. Luckily, certain Southeast Asian cuisines—Thai, Laotian, Cambodian—have given us a salad of such ubiquity, of such delicacy, and of such simple finesse that we may assess an establishment’s quality from the onset. And so it was with an entirely scientific and objective curiosity that, one particularly muggy Spring day, we ordered green papaya salad from Sang on Wheels (“SOW”). We have recently adjudicated SOW’s drunken noodles, upon which my sister and I met with some disagreement. See In re Sang on Wheels, 11 Catt. 1 (2012). Today, we consider the case of SOW’s papaya salad.

I. STREET FOOD

I would find green papaya salad to constitute “street food” and thus be entitled to a presumption of affirmance. Street food is “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011). While green papaya salad requires use of a fork and thus cannot meet all elements of this test so construed, we have held that our Eat Wonky, used to determine whether a dish is “street food,” is “not intended to affirmatively define the entire class of ‘street food,’ but is rather intended only to be a multifactor test to guide and direct our analysis.” In re Hot People Food, 6 Catt. 4 (2012). We have also held before that food that has traditionally been understood to constitute “street food” must necessarily satisfy our own definition of “street food.” Cf. In re Street Vendor Near National Mall, 9 Catt. 5 (2012). Green papaya salad is a tried-and-true street food which satisfies the spirit, if not each exact element, of our Eat Wonky test. I would therefore find green papaya salad to constitute “street food” under our jurisprudence, despite the required use of a fork. As such, SOW’s green papaya salad is entitled to a presumption of affirmance unless this Cart can meet its heavy burden to rebut that presumption. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012).

In this case, as explained below, the Cart rebuts the presumption of affirmance.

Papaya Salad

II. GREEN PAPAYA SALAD

Green papaya salad is a perfectly balanced dish, blending (a) young, unripe, shredded papaya (almost tart), combined with (b) lime (sour), (c) fish sauce (salty), (d) chili (spicy), and a touch of palm sugar (sweet). These competing flavors should be in equilibrium.

Each of these elements was present in SOW’s green papaya salad, but that all-important equilibrium was missing. In this Cart’s earlier decision with regard to SOW’s drunken noodles, my sister wondered “whether SoW purposely sweetened its sauce with sugar to appeal to the American palate, in the same way that Thai restaurants in the area have become too Americanized.” See Sang on Wheels, 11 Catt. 1. With its green papaya salad, SOW again offered up a cloyingly sweet dish. Texturally, too, the dish was problematic. The shredded papaya was suspended in a gloppy, unidentifiable sauce. In the end, I was unable to take more than a few bites. Given my predilection for crème brûlée, tiramisù, and galaktoboureko, I may have a bit of a sweet tooth. But my sweet tooth was not nearly sweet enough for SOW’s papaya salad.

III. CONCLUSION

As with its drunken noodles, SOW’s papaya salad held a lot of promise. But because it was cloyingly sweet, unbalanced, and texturally awkward, this dish must be

REMANDED to Sang on Wheels for revision.

CATTLEYA, J., concurring dubitante.

My gut tells me that papaya salad is not street food. However, I cannot prove it. It’s nearly impossible to do so now that the Cart’s method for determining “street food” — once a bright-line test — has been reduced to a free-for-all where anything goes.

For example, I cannot reconcile how Asian noodles could be street food in my brother’s mind, see In re Sang on Wheels (The Drunken Noodles Case), 11 Catt. 1 (2012) (Jeremy, C.J., dissenting), but Italian spaghetti would not be. (My intuition tells me that the Chief Justice would not find spaghetti to be street food. To my knowledge, no food truck within the Cart’s jurisdiction even sells spaghetti.) But are Asian noodles and Italian spaghetti so very different? My brother would explain that it’s the spirit of our “street food” test that separates Asian noodles from Italian spaghetti. He relies on this spirit to classify papaya salad as street food:

Green papaya salad is a tried-and-true street food which satisfies the spirit, if not each exact element, of our Eat Wonky test.

I find this answer highly unsatisfactory because my brother relies on a spirit that he has in the past rejected. When he disagreed with my analysis not so long ago in In re China Garden, he wrote:

My sister invokes the spirit of a law over its text . . . willfully overlooking the fact that laws have no spirits. This is indeed a sad day for legal reasoning, a travesty of justice, a flaunting of the rule of law, and a return to the basest form of judicial activism there is.

China Garden, 5 Catt. 1 (2012) (Jeremy, C.J., dissenting).

According to the wise Chief Justice, the spirit of a law is sufficient even if not every element is satisfied, but invoking the spirit of a law over its text is the basest form of judicial activism because laws have no spirits. There is a fine line here, indeed. And clearly, I have not figured out how to walk it, while it seems that my brother has. To me, it sounds like laws have no spirits — except when the Chief Justice says that they do. But this cannot be. I know a fine legal mind such as his has a better explanation for what appears to be a gross inconsistency in his thinking. I know it must, just must, be a matter of my limited understanding.

Because I do not understand why papaya salad (or drunken noodles) is street food and the Chief Justice does, I must go along with my brother’s conclusion today — but with the gravest, gravest doubts.

At the invitation of a community group, I recently attended an event during which the caterers arranged to bring a Dippin’ Dots ice cream cart into the reception hall for the enjoyment of the guests gathered there. The question before us today is whether this Dippin’ Dots cart is within the Supreme Cart’s jurisdiction. May the Cart review its ice creams?

Dippin’ Dots

I. JURISDICTION

At first glance, it appears that our first jurisdictional decision, In re China Garden, 5 Catt. 1 (2012), resolves the matter easily. China Garden interpreted the term “mobile gastronomic enterprise” from our Rules of Procedure. Rule 1-2 states the following:

 The jurisdiction of the Cart shall extend to all mobile gastronomic enterprises situated throughout those parts of (a) the County of Arlington, Virginia, (b) the District of Columbia, and (c) the City of Alexandria, Virginia, which are reasonably proximate to public transportation of a reasonably rapid and efficient character.

In China Garden, we found that “mobile” modified both “gastronomic” and “enterprise.” In other words, not only must the food be mobile, but the establishment selling the food must be mobile too. Thus, we did not have jurisdiction over a pushcart that was operated inside a fixed, brick-and-mortar restaurant. Even though the food was mobile, the restaurant was not.

Although it may seem that the instant case – a pushcart inside an event hall – is nearly identical to a pushcart inside a restaurant, China Garden does not answer our question or end our analysis. The most obvious distinction between the two cases – a pushcart inside an unaffiliated event hall versus an affiliated restaurant – could very well be significant. While the pushcart in China Garden was not equipped to serve customers outside the restaurant, the Dippin’ Dot cart was not affiliated with the event hall and easily could have been moved to another indoor or outdoor venue. Indeed, that is its purpose. (For example, Smithsonian features outdoor Dippin’ Dots carts during the warmer months.) Thus, China Garden’s pushcart was merely an arm of its enterprise. On the other hand, the Dippin’ Dots cart was an enterprise of its own.

Even if this reasoning were not enough to push the Dippin’ Dots cart into our jurisdiction, there is another basis – a stronger one – to find that the Supreme Cart has jurisdiction in this case. Dippin’ Dots is distributed throughout the country; its ice creams are sold at various franchised locations. Currently, one of its franchisees is a food truck that operates in DC. We unquestionably have jurisdiction over this Dippin’ Dots truck. Does that jurisdiction extend to the Dippin’ Dots cart at issue in this case?

In our second jurisdictional decision, In re Pupatella, we denied jurisdiction to a brick-and-mortar restaurant that previously operated as a food cart, but “we [left] open the question of whether this court’s jurisdiction extends to a brick-and-mortar restaurant that concurrently operates a food cart.” 8 Catt. 4 (2012). Before we answer that question, today we are faced with an easier question. Does this court have jurisdiction over a pushcart affiliated with a food truck that is in our jurisdiction?

The answer, of course, is yes. The pushcart vends the same ice cream products as the food truck. A review of the cart’s ice cream is a review of the truck’s ice cream. The substance is the same, and the substance should trump the form. Justice is served with this result because Dippin’ Dots gets its day before the Supreme Cart and the reader gets a review of Dippin’ Dots’s ice cream products.

II. STREET FOOD

Ice cream is true street food. In re Sinplicity, 9 Catt. 3 (2012) (finding that ice cream is street food); see also In re Eat Wonky (The Whoopie Pie Case), 2 Catt. 5 (2011) (defining street food as “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up”). Because ice cream is street food, this Supreme Cart presumes that Dippin’ Dots’s ice cream should be affirmed unless we can rebut this presumption. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012).

 III. DIPPIN’ DOTS ORIGINAL DOTS ICE CREAM

Our reader has probably come across Dippin’ Dots at an amusement park, a stadium, or another venue that attracts a youthful crowd. A serving of Dippin’ Dots – billed as “the ice cream of the future” – consists of tiny beads of ice cream. Dippin’ Dots explains that the beads are “cryogenically frozen” and the flash frozen beads must be stored at 40 degrees below zero. The bead shape allows “[k]ids (of all ages) [to] actually play with their food.” I tasted two flavors of original dots ice cream: (1) cookies ‘n cream and (2) bubble gum.

Cookies ‘n Cream

Cookies ‘n cream is vanilla beads with pieces of Oreo cookies. It tasted like classic cookies ‘n cream, but the cream was not very creamy on the tongue, since the ice cream component was broken down into many little pieces. The vanilla flavor was not very strong either. When the beads hit my tongue, I felt the coldness of the beads more than I tasted any flavor from them. The flavor came mostly from the Oreo bits. Still, I enjoyed the cookies ‘n cream. It was a different kind of ice cream and it would not be my first choice, but it wasn’t bad and I’d eat it again if it were there, and I were there, and the day were a hot one.

Bubble Gum

Bubble gum is a mix of blue, red, and yellow bubble gum. When I ordered this, I was mistakenly told that the flavor was called “rainbow” and I was unaware of its true name. As soon as I tried a spoonful, I thought to myself, “This tastes like bubble gum.” So, Dippin’ Dots nailed the bubble gum flavor. Unfortunately, the flavor was too sugary sweet and artificial for me. One bite was enough. I imagine, however, that sweet-toothed kids would appreciate it. Like the cookies ‘n cream, the bubble gum was not a very creamy ice cream. When the leftover beads in my cup melted, what remained were puddles of what looked like thin, watery (as opposed to something thick and creamy) puddles of food coloring. I suspect that the choice of ice cream ingredients, in addition to the bead shape, contributed to the less than creamy ice cream product.

IV. CONCLUSION

Dippin’ Dots was fun to try. It would not top my list of favorite frozen treats, but the reasons boil down to my personal preference for a creamier ice cream and not to any “bad” aspects of Dippin’ Dots. Because Dippin’ Dots is true street food, this Cart presumes that it should be affirmed and the Cart cannot rebut the presumption. Therefore, the case is

AFFIRMED.

JEREMY, C.J., concurring.

My God, we agree.

Reporter’s Note: The concurring opinion was not included in the first publication and was added on October 24, 2012 due to the Chief Justice’s failure to meet the publication deadline. (Apparently it takes a long time to compose four words.)

We granted cartiorari to That Cheesecake Truck (“TCT”), the mobile extension of Sweetz Cheesecake, a brick-and-mortar bakery. Cheesecake is not the preferred dessert for me or the Chief Justice. I like ice cream, and the Chief Justice is unashamedly a pie guy. Still, we have high expectations for cheesecake. I grew up in the Great State of New York, where cheesecake is creamy but dense. The Chief Justice, who has family ties in New York, similarly appreciates a dense cheesecake. When we think of cheesecake, we think of Junior’s original cheesecake. Rich and smooth. Without the fuss of any fruity or nutty mix-ins. And most importantly: dense, dense, dense. We believe that we are not alone in requiring a dense cheesecake. (Otherwise the word “cheesecake” on restaurant menus would not so often be preceded by “New York Style,” no?) So, the big question: did TCT dish out a worthy cheesecake to please the New York-style palates of the Cart Justices?

That Cheesecake Truck

 I. STREET FOOD

First, we must address our Eat Wonky test for street food, as it determines where the burden of proof lies in this proceeding. Street food is “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky (The Whoopie Pie Case), 2 Catt. 5 (2011). Baked goods are not street food. See Eat Wonky , 2 Catt. 5 (a whoopie pie is not street food); In re Dangerously Delicious Pies, 4 Catt. 4 (2011) (a pie slice is not street food); In re Sweetbites, 10 Catt. 1 (2012) (a cupcake is not street food). Because cheesecake is not street food, TCT is not entitled to the presumption that its cheesecake should be affirmed, and TCT’s cheesecake must prove on its own merits that it belongs on the street. In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012).

II. PLAIN (VANILLA) CHEESECAKE

Plain Cheesecake

TCT offers individual 4-inch cheesecakes for $4 each. TCT’s menu features rotating flavors like White Chocolate Raspberry, Apple Crumb, and Marble Fudge, but we ordered a plain (vanilla) cheesecake. Just as scrambled eggs are the true test of a chef, plain cheesecake is the true test of a cheesecake baker. To answer the question posed earlier (did TCT dish out a worthy cheesecake to please the New York-style palates of the Cart Justices?), we must honestly say, “No, but yes.” Huh?

Allow me to explain in a sentence: TCT’s vanilla cheesecake was yummy, but it wasn’t cheesecake.

Now allow me to elaborate: The taste of TCT’s vanilla cheesecake was spot on – clean, light, and not too sweet. As for the textural composition of the cheesecake, the moistness was there. The creaminess was there, too. The smoothness was also there. But – and this is a big but – TCT’s version was not dense. Not even a little. Not at all. Instead, it was fluffy and airy. It felt more like a mousse than a cheesecake. The graham cracker base added to the mouthfeel confusion. The graham cracker crumble did not combine together to form a crust. It functioned more like a finely crushed topping, but on the bottom of the dessert rather than on the top.

So, no, TCT’s cheesecake did not satisfy our hunger for cheesecake. But that doesn’t mean that we didn’t enjoy TCT’s dessert. We did. As we said earlier, it was yummy. We gobbled it all up. So, yes, we liked it.

III. CONCLUSION

In the end, we have nothing bad to say about the dessert’s qualities; we just take issue with its name. It wasn’t a cheesecake. We don’t know what it was. The best we can do is offer a suggestion: If TCT were to flip the dessert over and serve it upside down, the dessert could more accurately be described as “Mousse with a Crumbled Graham Cracker Topping.” Less marketable perhaps (That Mousse with a Crumbled Graham Cracker Topping Truck?), but we’d happily get in line for it.

AFFIRMED in part and REMANDED in part to That Cheesecake Truck for revision.

JEREMY, C.J., concurring.

I absolutely concur in the conclusion of my sister’s opinion, but I must take issue with the path taken to reach it. We begin always with the text. The subject of interpretation here is the word “cheesecake,” or the concept of cheesecakeness. We must determine whether TCT’s “cheesecake” is, in fact, a “cheesecake” as that term is commonly understood.

Merriam-Webster offers two definitions for “cheesecake,” reproduced here:

(1) a dessert consisting of a creamy filling usually containing cheese baked in a pastry or pressed-crumb shell

(2) a photographic display of shapely and scantily clothed female figures – often used attributively – compare BEEFCAKE

We may safely discard the second definition, for it clearly has no relevance in this context. I have no doubt such a mobile enterprise would run afoul of several municipal ordinances. Even the most ardent textualist can agree that language is, to some degree, contextual. And so context leaves us with the first definition. TCT’s offering does meet this definition. But I would find this definition overly broad and so of little utility as it does not bother to define the all-important texture of cheesecake.

TCT may point to a 1995 treatise, which notes that “[t]he texture of any cheesecake can vary greatly—from light and airy to dense and rich to smooth and creamy.” A federal court may judicially notice a fact that is not subject to reasonable dispute because it (1) is generally known within the court’s jurisdiction; or (2) can be accurately and readily determined from sources whose accuracy cannot reasonably be questioned. In this case, we could not reasonably take judicial notice of a definition of cheesecake encompassing a so-called “light and airy” “cheesecake.” Fed. R. Evid. 201 (2011). This definition is subject to dispute and easily questioned and so must be rejected.

Another learned treatise, Wikipedia, notes that a so-called “New York-style” cheesecake “is rich and has a dense, smooth and creamy consistency.” Much as only New York-style pizza properly qualifies as “pizza,” I would find that only New York-style cheesecake qualifies as “cheesecake.” It would seem that, among gastronomic scholars, “New York-style” translates into common parlance as something akin to “good” or “true.” I would thus accept Wikipedia’s definition of a “good” and “true” cheesecake—that is, one that is “rich” and “dense.”

TCT’s offering, while delectable, was certainly not “rich” or “dense.” Therefore, I must find that it fails to meet the definition of “cheesecake” as understood by a reasonable person. Because there is a degree of false advertising in TCT’s calling its otherwise tasty offering “cheesecake,” I agree with my sister that we cannot fully affirm that offering.

We granted cartiorari to Borinquen Lunch Box (“BLB”), a food truck that serves Puerto Rican cuisine. We were lured in by the indulgent description of the Tripletas, a sandwich (as the name indicates) with three types of meat — roasted pork, skirt steak, and ham — plus lettuce, tomatoes, and potato sticks. We review the Tripletas in a companion case, In re Borinquen Lunch Box (The Tripletas Case), 10 Catt. 3 (2012). In the instant case, we review a side dish. While we were standing in line to place our order, an item called alcapurrias caught the attention of our growling stomachs. BLB’s website describes alcapurrias as “beef-filled plantain fritters.”

Borinquen Lunch Box

I. STREET FOOD

We easily find that this side dish satisfies our Eat Wonky test for street food. Street food is “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011). If a dish qualifies as street food, then this Supreme Cart must affirm the dish, unless we rebut the presumption and show that the dish should not be served on the street. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012). Alcapurrias, like other deep-fried finger foods (e.g., corn dogs, mozzarella sticks, onion rings, fried Oreos®, jalapeno poppers) are street food. We cannot rebut the presumption of affirmance; alcapurrias belong on the street.

II. ALCAPURRIA

Like other trucks on the street, BLB needs a little time to prepare each order, so BLB asks for your name when you place your order. This always causes a bit of a conundrum for us Justices. For the sake of order and fairness, we prefer to eat under a shroud of anonymity and so we often assume pseudonyms. On the day of our visit, the Chief Justice provided the name “George.” You can see where BLB wrote “George” on our takeaway bag. (I was “Barbara.” This was a little more subtle than the day when the Chief Justice was “Sonny” and I was “Cher.”) See also In re Bada Bing, 5 Catt. 2 (2012) (also providing a false name to preserve anonymity).

Alcapurria

To begin, we note that despite the use of the plural on BLB’s online menu (saying “Alcapurrias” and “fritters”), BLB only serves one fritter per order. The attentive reader might catch on to this from reading the menu on the side of BLB’s truck, which describes “alcapurrias” (plural) as “green banana fritter stuffed with beef” (singular) (emphasis added). I was not reading carefully that day, so I was disappointed when there was only one alcapurria in our bag.

The verdict? The alcapurria was good — not great, but most certainly not bad. The ground beef filling was seasoned mildly. The resulting flavor was tasty, but nothing too very far from what salt and pepper achieves. The plantain fritter was thick and chewy. It contributed little to the flavor; its job was to contain the meat filling, which it did rather nicely (it did not crumble and fall apart in the hands). Unsurprisingly, given its deep-fried nature, this side dish was on the heavy side. Not an everyday item, that is for sure.

Although the Cart ultimately affirms BLB’s alcapurria, we also suggest an improvement. The alcapurria had one taste (the ground beef) and one overall texture (the combined softness of the ground beef and doughy fritter). An accompanying condiment, such as a hot sauce, would do much to enhance the eating experience. A fruity sauce might even do. Although the Chief Justice and I are skeptical of fruit-based sauces, it has been done well. See In re El Floridano, 2 Catt. 2 (2011) (excellent use of spicy guava sauce).

III. CONCLUSION

At $3, BLB’s alcapurria is a decent snack or appetizer. Its flavor is not out of the ordinary or particularly striking — it could even be improved with a condiment to deepen the flavor. But it satisfies the stomach in the way that other deep-fried goodies tend to be satisfying: it’s hot, filling, greasy, and comforting.

AFFIRMED in part and REMANDED in part to Borinquen Lunch Box for revision.

JEREMY, C.J., concurring.

I concur in my sister’s relatively sound opinion. I would only note that, once again, she fails to first address the text before reaching her conclusion. She prefers instead, it would seem, to invoke spirit and assumptions, in the tradition of Church of the Holy Trinity v. United States, 143 U.S. 457 (1892). So it was in this Cart’s decision in In re China Garden, 5 Catt. 1 (2012), and so it is here. My sister notes that an order of alcapurrias was described as a “green banana fritter [singular] stuffed with beef” and yet expected multiple fritters. I will admit that there is some ambiguity in the text to be construed, but that ambiguity is easily resolved in favor of the singular. In her defense, she writes that she “was not reading carefully that day.” But I am beginning to notice a disturbing trend in my sister’s jurisprudence: under scrutiny, her process of interpretation crumbles like the ground beef filling of a green banana fritter. I concur, but I must note also my disapproval.

The Chief Justice’s law clerk – no doubt under the instructions of the Chief Justice – sent to my chambers a newspaper article called “Forget cupcakes — pies are hot.”[1] Knowing as I do of the Chief Justice’s well-documented love for pie and hatred for cupcakes, his message was clear. The Supreme Cart had recently granted a writ of cartiorari, sua sponte, to review Sweetbites, a mobile café that serves cupcakes, and he regretted it. Well, Mr. Chief Justice, too bad. You of all persons should be aware of Rule of Procedure 2-2(b), which states that no grant of cartiorari “shall be subject to appeal or further review by this or any other tribunal.” Therefore, cartiorari is granted to Sweetbites on the question of its red velvet cupcake.

I. Chief Justice’s Recusal

First, I begin by calling upon the Chief Justice to recuse himself in this case. I trust that he will do so without any objection. Under 28 USC § 455, “[a]ny justice, judge, or magistrate judge of the United States shall disqualify himself in any proceeding in which his impartiality might reasonably be questioned.” If he is tempted to sit for this case, I gently remind him of his words in In re Dangerously Delicious Pies, 4 Catt. 4 (2011), a case in which we reviewed a mobile maker of his most beloved dessert, the pie. He stated, “[S]hould the case of any cupcake truck come before this Cart, I vow now, given my severe aversion to cupcakeries, to recuse myself.” Id. Mr. Chief Justice, you may do so now.

The Chief Justice has gotten it into his head that I, too, should recuse myself. He cites the same case, Dangerously Delicious Pies, as his support. Particularly, he points to my concurring opinion:

I list here, in advance, the elements that I look for in a cupcake: 1) a moist cake; 2) a buttercream frosting (fondant icing will never do); 3) a good cake-frosting ratio; and 4) a comforting flavor, like red velvet or chocolate hazelnut.

Dangerously Delicious Pies, 4 Catt. 4 (Cattleya, J., concurring). The Chief Justice points to my words as evidence that my impartiality is in question. To that I say: Pfui! It will be obvious to the reader that my words do not reflect any personal bias or prejudice. Saying that I will judge a cupcake by the moistness of its cake, creaminess of its frosting, and deliciousness of its flavor is merely a very, very specific way of saying that I will judge the cupcake by the standards of justice and fairness.

The Chief Justice calls for my recusal on other grounds as well. He has accused me of having a personal relationship with the party to this case. He describes an incident that I do not deny. One day, many months before this Cart granted cartiorari to Sweetbites, I was walking by the Sweetbites truck, which was parked in a metered parking space. The owner, having spotted me as the person closest to her truck at that very moment, handed me a couple of quarters and asked me to put them in the parking meter for her. I did, as any good Samaritan would have done. This interaction, which lasted no more than a few seconds, did not create a personal relationship and does not impair my ability to hear this case. Therefore, I do not recuse myself.

Sweetbites

II. Street Food

Like other baked goods that have come before the Supreme Cart, Sweetbites’s cupcake is not street food. See Dangerously Delicious Pies, 4 Catt. 4; In re Eat Wonky (The Whoopie Pie Case), 2 Catt. 5 (2011). As we have stated time and time again, street food is “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5. Because a cupcake is not street food, Sweetbites has the burden to prove that its cupcake belongs on the street. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012).

III. Red Velvet Cupcake

Red Velvet Cupcake

Sweetbites describes its version of a red velvet cupcake as “extra smooth, extra rich and extra velvety, topped with luscious just-sweet-enough vanilla buttercream frosting.” Sweetbites does not lie. Its red velvet cupcake checked off all the boxes on my list:

1) A moist cake.

The cake was light and fluffy, and its freshness was evident. This cupcake did not come from a huge batch that was baked days and days ago and has been aging on a shelf.

2)  Buttercream frosting.

No fondant here! The sweet, creamy frosting was airy and balanced the rich flavor of the cake.

3) A good cake-frosting ratio.

The cake was topped with enough frosting that I couldn’t take a bite without getting a little smear of frosting on the tip of my nose. At the same time, there was not too much frosting; I did not feel like I  had gotten a serving of frosting with a small side of cake.

4) A comforting flavor, like red velvet.

Red velvet is a popular flavor at present. (Even IHOP has turned it into a pancake flavor. There’s also a brick-and-mortar cupcakery named Red Velvet in the area.) Sweetbites does not unnecessarily tinker with this tried and true flavor. It does the red velvet flavor faithfully, and it does it well.

IV. CONCLUSION

Sweetbites’s red velvet cupcake does not disappoint. At $3, it’s priced comparably with other mobile and immobile cupcakeries. Curbside Cupcakes (another cupcake truck) likewise charges $3 per cupcake, and Red Velvet (a brick-and-mortar bakery) charges a bit more at $3.25 per cupcake. Although $3 may seem like a high price for a small baked good, it’s worth it if you don’t want to bake your own batch of cupcakes and you’re just looking for a once-in-a-while treat.

AFFIRMED.

[1] The newspaper article appeared in the Los Angeles Times. Los Angeles, California is outside the Supreme Cart’s jurisdiction, which is limited to (a) Arlington, Virginia, (b) DC, and (c) Alexandria, Virginia. In addition, the article was published in the beginning of 2011, well over one year ago. For these reasons and others, the newspaper article was easily dismissed as unpersuasive and, in fact, completely irrelevant.

How does one go about judging one of those all-too-classic half-smoke-hot-dog-egg-roll-pizza trucks that line Independence and Constitution Avenues, gilding the frame of the Mall with their hand-painted yellow signs? How does one go about judging one of those grandmothers and grandfathers of the food-truck scene, one of those vessels of a fleet which once comprised the entirety of the food-truck scene?

Surely, one does not judge such an establishment by the same standards one would use for one of the new guard. One doesn’t say, for example, that its half-smoke is not nearly peppery enough, or, alternatively, that the pepperiness overpowers.

No.

Street Vendor near National Mall

One doesn’t say that its egg roll is too big, too greasy, too inauthentic an offering, too Americanized. No.

One doesn’t say that its service was found wanting or that the price of its fare was surprisingly low or unfairly high. No.

You accept the truck, respect the truck, revere it, as you would Antoine’s, Delmonico’s, the Union Oyster House, the Old Ebbitt Grill, Joe’s Stone Crab, or any of the timeless dinosaurs of other food scenes.

Half-Smoke

In this case, we must do just that, without needless argumentation.

Our jurisdiction is limited to the “mobile gastronomic enterprise.” But it is all too clear that that definition of our jurisdiction includes that enterprise now before us. Even Publius admitted as much in Federalist No. 78.

In a line of cases, we have established what constitutes “street food.” See, e.g., In re Eat Wonky (The Whoopie Pie Case), 2 Catt. 5 (2011). But we needn’t restate that test here. It is simply too clear that D.C.’s original, proven street food—the noble half-smoke and her friends—constitutes “street food,” however that phrase may be defined by this Cart. Indeed no definition of “street food” that did not consider the offerings of these mobile gastronomic enterprises could properly be adopted by this Cart.

Egg Roll

Finally, where a mobile gastronomic enterprise’s dish constitutes street food, we must affirm unless the presumption of affirmance is rebutted. In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012). But, of course, we could never hope to meet the burden of proving otherwise, or deciding that the case could be remanded on the ordinary grounds. Justice and, I daresay, plain and simple propriety demand that a randomly-selected, Mall-adjacent, yellow-signed, half-smoke-hot-dog-egg-roll-pizza truck be, by this Cart, wholeheartedly

AFFIRMED.

CATTLEYA, J., concurring.

We must affirm unless this Cart is to reject a long-standing tradition of street food in the District of Columbia. The question is not whether the half-smoke and egg roll were good, but whether the half-smoke and egg roll are true street food. They are, and there is nothing more to consider.

We granted cartiorari to Sol Mexican Grill on the questions of three varieties of taco: (1) steak with red sauce (hot), (2) chicken with green sauce (medium), and (3) carnitas with red sauce, each ensconced in corn tortillas and paired with pico de gallo.

Ordering at Sol is a multistep process. First, you must choose (1) three tacos, (2) two burritos, or (3) one bowl. Each costs a reasonable $7.00. We opted for the first choice: three tacos. Second, you must choose your principal filling. We opted for one steak, one chicken, and one carnitas. Third, you must choose your toppings. We opted for pico de gallo in each taco, and paired the steak and carnitas with spicier red sauce and the chicken with the milder green sauce.

The ordering process was hectic, and service was somewhat lacking, but, as a general rule, I care very little about service if the product is decent. Sol’s product was at least decent, and so there will be no more discussion of service.

Sol Mexican Grill

As an initial matter, we must decide whether tacos are “street food,” which we have defined as “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011). If a mobile gastronomic enterprise’s dish constitutes street food, we must affirm unless the presumption of affirmance is rebutted. In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012).

In a recent case, we found that the burrito is properly considered “street food.” In re Pedro and Vinny’s, 9 Catt. 2 (2012). A taco is, in some ways, a small burrito. Therefore, for the same reasons that burritos are street food, we find that a taco is also street food. Therefore, Sol’s tacos must be affirmed unless this Supreme Cart finds the presumption of affirmance to be rebutted. The Cart finds the presumption not to be rebutted and therefore affirms.

Corn tortilla tacos with steak, chicken, and carnitas

All three meats—steak, chicken, carnitas—were well cooked. The steak had a welcome chewiness without being tough. The chicken and especially the carnitas were tender, almost buttery. All meats were well seasoned and sufficiently flavorful, which is more than can be said for similar enterprises in the metroplex. Cf. In re TaKorean, 1 Catt. 4 (2011). You could certainly taste the meats through the sauces, pico de gallo, and corn tortillas, which, again, is more than can be said for other, similar enterprises. Cf. id.

Both sauces—the spicier red and the milder green—were flavorful. Both were rather simple sauces but by no means one-note. The red was spicy, but there was some flavor behind the heat. The green tasted fresh and herby. The red complemented the steak and carnitas, and the green complemented the chicken, adding flavor and complexity without overpowering the palate.

The pico de gallo, which we added to all three tacos, was a standard pico de gallo—tomatoes, onion, etc.—but tasted quite fresh. It paired nicely with all three tacos.

Sol is by no means unique or original or extraordinary. It does what it does—street tacos—fast and well without trying to reinvent the wheel and without unnecessary gimmicks or hype. For these reasons, we find that we cannot rebut the presumption of affirmance and therefore affirm Sol’s tacos.

AFFIRMED.

CATTLEYA, J., concurring.

I concur with my brother’s reasoning in this case. Indeed, Sol makes a decent taco. I tasted no major mistakes. The meats were prepared well, the pico de gallo was fresh, and the corn tortillas weren’t stale. If you’re craving tacos when your lunch hour hits, I recommend giving Sol a try. On the other hand, if you’re looking for a meal that will leave a memory behind, that will surprise your palate with something new and different, that will make you mentally add the meal’s maker to your “must-try foods” list . . . well, then you ought to keep walking when you spot Sol near the curb. Admittedly, there are not many gastronomic enterprises – mobile or immobile – that fit this bill. So, setting the bar a bit lower, if you’re just looking for a meal that will fill you up and keep you satisfied until dinner, Sol’s tacos aren’t for you.

On a sunny Spring afternoon, we granted cartiorari to Sinplicity under Rule of Procedure 2-2 by making a sua sponte appearance at its truck. Sinplicity is a maker of hand-crafted ice creams and sorbets. I have been very open about my love of frozen treats, and the Chief Justice was willing to try Sinplicity’s desserts, since they were not cupcakes. See In re Dangerously Delicious Pies, 4 Catt. 4 (2011) (Jeremy, C.J.) (“[S]hould the case of any cupcake truck come before this Cart, I vow now, given my severe aversion to cupcakeries, to recuse myself.”) Thus with no obstacles in our way, we lined up for Sinplicity’s artisan creations.

Sinplicity

 I. SINPLICITY

Sinplicity asserts that its ice creams are “sinply” different. It explains that it “pasteurize[s] [its] own ice cream mixes from fresh local dairy products.” Everything is “cooked entirely in house,” and there are “no compounds or extracts” in the recipes (except for a little vanilla extract). The mixes are made in a gelato machine. This results in a product that’s a mix between gelato and ice cream: gelato’s flavor and texture with ice cream’s high fat content.

Speaking of the fat content, Sinplicity does not hide the fact that it’s selling a treat. It bills its frozen creations as “special occasion stuff” and “self-indulgence territory.” It tells the eater that “you don’t want to know” the nutritional information. For those that really do want to know, Sinplicty provides calorie counts. Averaging its most popular flavors, Sinplicity’s website says that one scoop of ice cream is 290 calories (150 from fat) and one scoop of sorbet is 120 calories (0 from fat).

II. STREET FOOD

Under our common law, a presumption arises that the Supreme Cart must affirm any “street food” that comes off a food truck. Street food is “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky (The Whoopie Pie Case), 2 Catt. 5 (2011). If a food truck’s offering constitutes street food, then we must affirm unless we can meet the burden to rebut the presumption. In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012).

Ice creams and sorbets are street food. Although they’re usually scooped (not cooked) in front of you, and although they may be eaten with a spoon, they can be eaten while standing up. Not every prong of the Eat Wonky test must be strictly met, as the test “is not intended to affirmatively define the entire class of ‘street food,’ but is rather intended only to be a multifactor test to guide and direct our analysis.” In re Hot People Food (The Hot People Dumplings Case), 6 Catt. 4 (2012). As further evidence that ice cream is true street food, we note that mobile food trucks in the District of Columbia currently operate according to a 35-year-old law intended for ice cream trucks. Thus, historically, ice cream has been sold and eaten on the street.

Because ice creams and sorbets are street food, we must affirm Sinplicity’s frozen treats unless we rebut the preumption of affirmance. We “sinply” cannot meet this burden.

III. REVIEW

In the name of justice, we Justices put our prepare-for-summer diets aside and ordered two scoops (one ice cream flavor, and one sorbet flavor) for $5. We chose (1) Cappuccino Crunch ice cream with Chocolate Covered Almonds and Amaretto and (2) Lemon-Ginger Sorbet with Spiced Jamaican Rum. These flavors are from Sinplicity’s classic, “always available” menu. Not all of Sinplicity’s flavors include alcohol, but a good many of them do (apparently alcohol softens the ice creams). Unexpectedly, we found that Sinplicity serves its frozen creations with a piece of biscotti.

Cappuccino Crunch Ice Cream & Lemon-Ginger Sorbet

Sinplicity’s Cappuccino Crunch ice cream was worth the calories and fat. Although I am not a coffee drinker, I enjoy coffee-based desserts. The espresso flavor was strong and addicting. The kick of amaretto was not shy and added a little bitterness. The result was a flavorful taste that was not overly sweet. The chocolate covered almonds provided a crunchy nibble to break up the softness. Texturally, the ice cream was thick and creamy. Even as I neared the bottom of the cup, the ice cream held up and did not melt into a messy puddle.

The Lemon-Ginger sorbet was excellent and came with less guilt for the waistline. Texturally, the sorbet was more creamy than icy. The ginger spice was added in perfectly. It was neither too strong nor overpowering in flavor against the lemon. The rum added a pleasing zing. The overall flavor was refreshing and worked well as a post-lunch palate cleanser.

The biscotti was a nice addition. It was plain—no fussy nuts or spices. However, it by no means lacked flavor. This was a case where simple was better. The biscotti had a very buttery taste and reminded me of shortbread. The texture was what one would expect from a twice-baked biscuit. It was hard and crunchy, and it required the use of my side teeth to bite into it. The crunchy biscotti made the experience of eating Sinplicity’s frozen creations even better.

IV. CONCLUSION

Sinplicity was a real treat to eat under the sun on a warm afternoon. The flavors were thoughtfully developed and perfectly executed. I could practically taste the care that went into the making. I was happy to become a “Sinner” that day. I’m even happier that Sinplicity has a “Frequent Sinner” card (buy ten, and get one free). I’ll be back again when I deserve to enter “self-indulgence territory” for some “special occasion stuff.”

AFFIRMED.

JEREMY, C.J., concurring.

I concur heartily in my sister’s cogent opinion. Sinplicity is indeed a tasty treat for a balmy D.C. day; sin has never been so sinfully delicious. I have but one question not answered at oral argument: Is “Cappuccino Crunch” (read: “Cap . . . n . . . Crunch”) a thinly veiled reference to that delightful childhood treat, Cap’n Crunch? If so, I approve, even despite my strong preference for Count Chocula and his bat-shaped marshmallows.

To achieve greater justice in the matter before the Cart, my brother and I visited Pedro and Vinny’s (P&V) on separate occasions. Ever mindful that a food cart’s quality can vary from day to day, we wanted to minimize a Cart opinion based on an unusually bad day or an unusually good day.

My visit took place one afternoon when I spotted the burrito cart on the sidewalk across the street from Chipotle in Ballston. P&V has two carts run by a father-and-daughter team. The father, John, operates the first cart on K Street in DC. The daughter, Kristin, set up the second cart for a time in Ballston, but she recently moved to a new location in Crystal City. I had heard about the burrito cart from my new law clerk, who informed me that P&V’s vegetarian burrito had been named one of the best burritos in the country last year.

Although I am not a vegetarian, I somehow usually walk out of Chipotle with a rice, cheese, and sour cream burrito. As no stranger to a meatless (not to mention beanless) burrito, I figured a visit to P&V for a vegetarian burrito would be a nice change of pace.

Pedro and Vinny’s

I. THE CUSTOMER EXPERIENCE

Upon my arrival, I learned that P&V had added chicken to the menu, but I stuck to my vegetarian plan. Ordering a burrito from P&V involved quite a few decisions. Kristin walked me through the steps:

1. There’s the choice of tortilla—flour, wheat, tomato, spinach.
2. Cheese or no cheese? (Kristin needed to know this first in order to warm up the tortilla and melt the cheese. The cheese is a cheddar-jack mix.)
3. Then there’s the size: small, medium, large? (The medium and large come with rice.)
4. Chicken—yes or no?
5. Black beans, pinto beans, or both (a.k.a. “black & tan”).
6. Pico de gallo? Sour cream? Guacamole?
7. What kind of hot sauce—fruity or non-fruity? how hot?

I opted for a medium burrito: flour tortilla with cheese, black & tan beans, pico de gallo, sour cream, and guacamole. After sampling a few sauces and getting some recommendations from Kristin, I chose a cilantro habanero over a mango sauce. Given my aversion to cilantro, see In re Salt and Pepper Grill, 6 Catt. 1 (2012), this might come as a surprise, but less so if one considers that I also share my brother’s aversion to fruity sauces, see In re El Floridano, 2 Catt. 2 (2011). My law clerk later informed me that in P&V speak, my burrito order should have sounded something like “flour, cheese, black & tan, with everything, spice level 7, non-fruity.”

Making the burrito

To assemble the burrito, Kristin placed the tortilla on a round pizza tray; piled rice, beans, and pico de gallo down the middle; and then used a spatula to spread smears of sour cream and guacamole, one to the right and the other to the left. Hot sauce was drizzled on top before it was all rolled together.

As Kristin wrapped up my burrito in foil, she told me to drop my $20 bill into a Tory Burch shoe box and to “help myself to change.” This was the first honor-system style of payment that I’ve come across during my term as a Cart Justice, and I applaud it (since the hands handling the food should not also be handling the money). A medium vegetarian burrito with guacamole came out to $6.25. Next to the Tory Burch shoebox was a box of complimentary York Peppermint Patties. I always appreciate food carts and trucks that throw in a little sweet. See, e.g., In re Hot People Food, 6 Catt. 4 (2012) (providing a piece of guava-flavored hard candy).

II. STREET FOOD

We have defined street food as “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky (The Whoopie Pie Case), 2 Catt. 5 (2011). If a food cart’s dish constitutes street food, then this Supreme Cart must affirm unless we can meet the burden to rebut the presumption of affirmance. In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012).

This Cart finds that a burrito is street food for the same reasons that sandwiches are street food. See In re Red Hook Lobster Pound (The Shrimp Roll Case), 9 Catt. 1 (2012); In re Willie’s Po Boy, 7 Catt. 4 (2012); In re NY Famous Kabob, 7 Catt. 3 (2012); In re Rolling Ficelle, 6 Catt. 3 (2012); Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2. Therefore, P&V’s burrito  must be affirmed unless this Supreme Cart can meet the burden to rebut the presumption afforded to street food. This Cart rebuts the presumption of affirmance.

III. VEGETARIAN BURRITO WITH GUACAMOLE

Vegetarian Burrito with Guacamole

When Kristin handed me the burrito, I immediately appreciated the weight. A P&V burrito—even the medium size—is pretty large. The weight promised a very filling lunch. Unfortunately, although I was full after eating my burrito, I was not completely satisfied with the meal.

The burrito was not tightly wrapped, so guacamole, pico de gallo, and beans oozed out. It made for messy eating.

Some bites of the burrito were quite tasty, but most were bland. The rice and beans were mushy and lacked flavor. On the other hand, the guacamole and sour cream were fresh and delicious. Bites that included these toppings were enjoyable, but since they were smeared on the sides of the tortilla (rather than in the middle), not every bite included them.

Finally, I couldn’t taste the hot sauce. Several more splashes would have gone a long way towards adding a flavorful kick.

Towards the last few bites, all that remained of my burrito was a sloppy mix of flavorless rice and beans. Very occasionally I am met with a meal that, despite my dislike of wasting food, just isn’t worth finishing. This was such an occasion. See also In re Dangerously Delicious Pies, 4 Catt. 4 (2011); In re Sâuçá, 4 Catt. 3 (2011); In re CapMac (The Classic CapMac’n Cheese Case), 1 Catt. 1 (2011).

IV. CONCLUSION

At P&V, I got a filling burrito at an affordable price from a food cart that strives to provide a good customer experience. Although P&V used fresh ingredients, the finished product was disappointing. Perhaps, after hearing about USA Today’s “best burrito” review, I approached P&V with hopes that were too high.

REMANDED to Pedro and Vinny’s for revision.

On my lunch table today are (1) lamb and rice and (2) chicken on pita from the newly-opened NY Famous Kabob (“NYFK”). NYFK is an Arlington-based cart that serves “New York style kabob[s].” It has been spotted at two different locations: 1) North Lynn Street (Rosslyn); and 2) GMU’s Arlington Campus (between Clarendon and Virginia Square). The green cart at GMU might look a little familiar to students, as it used to be part of the Tasty Kabob fleet. See In re Tasty Kabob, 3 Catt. 4 (2011); Metro Halal Food v. Tasty Kabob, 1 Catt. 2 (2011).

So the question is, in a mobile food landscape that is full of kabob trucks (see, e.g., Tasty Kabob, Metro Halal Food, Ali Khan Express, DC Kabob and Grill Truck, Halal Gyro Plus, and Kraving Kabob), how does NYFK rate?

NY Famous Kabob

I. STREET FOOD

Our regular reader will know what this Supreme Cart’s first order of business is: to determine whether NYFK’s  offerings are “street food.” Street food is “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky (The Whoopie Pie Case), 2 Catt. 5 (2011).

It should come as no surprise that NYFK’s lamb and rice platter, like other meat over rice dishes that have come before the Cart, is not street food. See, e.g., In re Hot People Food (The Sassy Chicken Case), 7 Catt. 2 (2012); In re Salt and Pepper Grill, 6 Catt. 1 (2012). Therefore, no presumption arises that NYFK’s lamb and rice should be affirmed. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012) (“[W]here an offering is deemed to constitute ‘street food,’ a presumption arises that the case should be affirmed. That is, the MGE has made out its prima facie case and the burden of proof lies entirely with the Supreme Cart to prove that the case should be remanded to the MGE for revision.”).

On the other hand, NYFK’s chicken on pita, similar to a sandwich, is street food. See In re Rolling Ficelle, 6 Catt. 3 (2012) (finding that a sandwich was street food); Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (finding that two sandwiches were street food). Therefore, NYFK’s chicken on pita must be affirmed unless this Supreme Cart can meet the burden to rebut the presumption of affirmance. See Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2.

 II. LAMB AND RICE

Lamb and Rice

Having determined that NYFK’s lamb and rice is not entitled to the presumption that it should be affirmed as street food, I now evaluate the platter. I cannot comment on whether NYFK’s lamb and rice is indeed “New York style,” since New York is outside this Cart’s jurisdiction. I consider the platter on its own merits and against the backdrop of similar food carts and trucks within this Cart’s jurisdiction.

The platter is like other lamb and rice platters that the Supreme Cart Justices have sampled. It contains lamb gyro meat over rice, with a side vegetable and a small salad. See In re Ali Khan Express, 3 Catt. 5 (2011) (lamb, rice, chick peas, salad); Tasty Kabob, 3 Catt. 4 (same). In this case, the side vegetable was spinach. The price of the platter was $6.99 plus tax.

NYFK’s lamb gyro was flavorful, but the shaved meat was overcooked and dry. The long-grain rice was as long-grain rice should be: nicely separated and not sticky. The spinach, which was served in a watery broth, was a bit bland. The salad was a standard offering of lettuce and tomato with a drizzle of white sauce. All together, the platter was a generous serving – certainly enough to split into the day’s lunch and dinner, if one had the will power to do so. I, of course, did not.

III. CHICKEN ON PITA

NYFK’s chicken on pita, which is true street food, is entitled to the presumption that it should be affirmed. I cannot meet the burden to rebut this presumption.

Normally, I would never order chicken over lamb. See In re Red Hook Lobster Pound, 2 Catt. 1 (2011) (“[N]o one in their right mind orders shrimp over lobster.); In re El Floridano, 2 Catt. 2 (2011) (“[N]o one in their right mind orders [tempeh] over [pork].” (internal quotation marks omitted)). But after experiencing NYFK’s dry lamb, I put my right mind aside and ordered chicken.

Chicken on Pita

It turned out to be a good decision. The chicken was well-seasoned. Moreover, it was cooked properly, meaning that it was moist and not dry. The pita was thick, pillowy, and not stale. Slices of tomato sat beneath the chicken, and a generous sprinkling of lettuce covered the top. White sauce and hot sauce finished off the dish. It was exactly what I expected, and nothing stuck out as bad or off-putting. I did not regret spending $5.99 plus tax.

IV. CONCLUSION

For its rice platters, NYFK fills the diner’s Styrofoam container to its maximum capacity. I was not hungry after I finished my lamb and rice, but I was not satisfied either. With dry lamb, the platter was disappointing.

The chicken on pita was not disappointing, but it was not as filling as the platter. At only $1 more, the platter seemed like a better deal.

I noticed as I left that NYFK offers a two-meat combination platter containing lamb and chicken. Perhaps this is a wiser selection because even if you get dry lamb (like I did), hopefully you’ll get moist chicken (like I did). Of course, you could just get the chicken and rice platter, but as indicated earlier, who in their right mind orders chicken over lamb?

I AFFIRM in part and REMAND in part to NY Famous Kabob for revision. It is so ordered.

Before us is Hot People Food (“HPF”), a food truck the serves, um, “Hot People Food.” This Cart has already determined that “Hot People Food” is “‘people food’ that is ‘hot’ in terms of spicing, temperature, excitement, or any combination of the above.” In re Hot People Food (The Hot People Dumplings Case), 6 Catt. 4 (2012). “Hot People Food” is most probably “hot” in terms of spicing, as HPF spices its food to the particular diner’s tastes. On HPF’s recommendation, we ordered the Hot Grab Lunch Box with Sassy Chicken. In addition to the meat entrée, the Hot Grab Lunch Box comes with miso soup, rice, vegetables, and half of a so-called “GolDDen Egg.”

I. STREET FOOD

This Cart has determined that street food is “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011). We conclude that the Hot Grab Lunch Box, like other platters of meat, vegetables, and rice, is not street food. See, e.g., In re Salt and Pepper Grill, 6 Catt. 1 (2012). Therefore, no presumption arises that HPF’s Sassy Chicken should be affirmed. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012) (“[W]here an offering is deemed to constitute ‘street food,’ a presumption arises that the case should be affirmed. That is, the MGE has made out its prima facie case and the burden of proof lies entirely with the Supreme Cart to prove that the case should be remanded to the MGE for revision.”).

II. HOT GRAB LUNCH BOX: SASSY CHICKEN

As this Cart very often does, each element of the Hot Grab Lunch Box will be addressed in turn. See, e.g., In re Takorean, 1 Catt. 4 (2011).

Sassy Chicken

A. Sassy Chicken.

The “Sassy Chicken” name itself doesn’t indicate how HPF prepares the meat and HPF doesn’t provide a description of the dish, so we weren’t sure what to expect. What makes chicken sassy? It turns out that the answer is soy sauce, fennel, and ginger.

First, the good news: The Sassy Chicken was moist. This is no small feat. Not all food trucks have avoided the trap of dry chicken. See In re Bada Bing, 5 Catt. 2 (2012).

Now, the bad news: The Sassy Chicken was not sassy at all. It was bland, and despite the “Hot People Food” name, it didn’t have even a hint of spice. For those diners seeking heat, HPF drizzles Sriracha sauce over the Sassy Chicken. As much as I love Sriracha sauce and believe a bottle should be stocked in every American kitchen, even it could not make the Sassy Chicken more exciting. I would have preferred if the spiciness came more from a marinade and less from a condiment, but perhaps that is not possible when one is trying to cater to all spice preferences.

B. Miso soup.

My opinion of HPF’s miso soup on this second tasting was the same as it was on the first. See In re Hot People Food (The Hot People Dumplings Case), 6 Catt. 4 (2012) (Cattleya, J., concurring). It was a nice addition, but it was standard miso soup and nothing out of the ordinary. The only comment that I have to add is that this time, my bowl of miso soup was only half full. I suspect that HPF is less generous with the serving size towards the end of the lunch service, when its food stocks are running low.

C. Rice.

HPF’s default rice is steamed. On some days, HPF also offers fried rice. I was lucky enough to show up on such a day. The fried rice was good, but like the miso soup, it was standard Chinese food fare.

D. Vegetables.

The Hot Grab Lunch Box came with a side of steamed broccoli. Beneath the Sassy Chicken, there were more vegetables in the form of carrots and potatoes. (This raises the question: Are potatoes vegetables?) These vegetables, assuming that they are all vegetables, allowed me to tell my mother later that day that, yes, I had eaten my vegetables. Which is to say that they were good, but nothing special.

E. GolDDen Egg.

A “GolDDen Egg” is a hard-boiled egg that is steeped in tea. Tea eggs are common street food in Asia. They are also street food under out Eat Wonky test because a tea egg “can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” See In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011). For this reason, this Cart presumes that HPF’s GolDDen Egg should be affirmed (even though the Sassy Chicken entrée did not merit this presumption). I cannot meet the burden to rebut the presumption because I found HPF’s egg to be quite tasty. So tasty, in fact, that based on my enjoyment of half of one piece, I will probably get the appetizer portion of two pieces on a future visit.

III. CONCLUSION

At $7.99 plus tax, HPF’s Hot Grab Lunch Box is a lot of food. The diner gets a large portion of meat, plus miso soup, rice, vegetables, and half of a tea egg. On top of that, HPF throws in a piece of delicious guava hard candy to finish off the meal.

Nothing in the Hot Grab Lunch Box was bad. One thing was quite good (GolDDen Egg). Some things were standard (miso soup; rice). One thing could have been much better (Sassy Chicken). Overall, the meal left a mediocre taste in my mouth.

For the reasons stated above, the Hot Grab Lunch Box with Sassy Chicken is

AFFIRMED in part and REMANDED in part to Hot People Food for revision.

JEREMY, C.J., concurring in the result.

“The issue is, what is [sassy] chicken?” See Frigaliment Importing Co. v. B.N.S. Int’l Sales Corp., 190 F. Supp. 116 (S.D.N.Y. 1960). As my sister rightly points out, “[t]he ‘Sassy Chicken’ name itself doesn’t indicate how HPF prepared the meat and HPF doesn’t provide a description of the dish . . . .” The opinion of the Cart finds that HPF’s Sassy Chicken is chicken marinated in a blend of “soy sauce, fennel, and ginger,” with a drizzle of Sriracha. However, upon ordering Sassy Chicken on a separate occasion from my sister, I was presented with battered and deep-fried chicken bits in a sticky sweet-and-sour sauce. Therefore, though I agree generally with the result of the Cart’s decision, I must find that HPF’s Sassy Chicken, far from a chicken marinated in a savory blend of herbs and spices, is instead battered, deep-fried, and coated in a markedly different gastrique.

I agree heartily with my sister’s assessment of HPF’s GolDDen Egg. (Get it? Double-D . . .)

(Further, I was presented with white rice and bok choy instead of fried rice and broccoli, but that is largely immaterial.)

However, though I agree generally with the result of the opinion of the Cart, I feel I must voice my disapproval on a certain matter of considerable import.

I am shocked, shocked, by my sister’s apparent willingness to cast aside sound precedent. The concept of stare decisis is foundational in any common law system of adjudication. It is “usually the wise policy, because in most matters it is more important that the applicable rule of law be settled than that it be settled right.” Burnet v. Coronado Oil & Gas Co., 285 U.S. 393, 406-407, 410 (1932) (Brandeis, J., dissenting).

I thought it well settled law that a potato is, indeed, a “vegetable.” Therefore, my sister’s eagerness to reopen that question—to ask, as she does, “[a]re potatoes vegetables?”—is perturbing, to say the least.

In a seminal case of the United States Supreme Court, it was determined that a tomato is a “vegetable.” Nix v. Hedden, 149 U.S. 304 (1893). In that case, the Court wrote:

Botanically speaking, tomatoes are the fruit of a vine, just as are cucumbers, squashes, beans, and peas. But in the common language of the people, whether sellers or consumers of provisions, all these are vegetables which are grown in kitchen gardens, and which, whether eaten cooked or raw, are, like potatoes, carrots, parsnips, turnips, beets, cauliflower, cabbage, celery, and lettuce, usually served at dinner in, with, or after the soup, fish, or meats which constitute the principal part of the repast, and not, like fruits generally, as dessert.

Id. (emphasis added). And thus, in passing on the question of the tomato, that venerable body passed also on the question of the potato.

Now, my sister may object that such is merely obiter dicta. But, from Nix, the now settled legal test for whether a plant is, for culinary purposes, a “fruit” or a “vegetable” rests on whether the plant is “usually served at dinner in, with, or after the soup, fish, or meats which constitute the principal part of the repast” or whether the plant is served “like fruits generally, as dessert.” While I am aware that the potato may be employed in a dessert, it is common knowledge that it most often served with “the principal part of the repast.” Indeed, it is so with HPF’s Sassy Chicken meal. Thus, as far as this Cart is concerned, there can be no question but that a potato is, in fact, a “vegetable.”

Instead, I would treat my sister’s question as dicta. It is simply too late in time to reopen discussion of the inherent vegetableness of the potato.

Cartiorari was granted in this case on the question of Hot People Food’s (“HPF”) Hot People Dumplings. Today, I am faced with many important questions. There is, of course, the question of the Hot People Dumplings themselves. But before I may reach the substance of the matter, I am confronted with an interpretive question of constitutional proportions.

(N.B.: The first part of this decision is rather legalistic. If you are interested solely in a review of HPF’s Hot People Dumplings, click here to jump to Parts II and III of this opinion.)

I. “HOT PEOPLE FOOD”

As Publius wrote, “[w]hen the Almighty himself condescends to address mankind in their own language, his meaning, luminous as it must be, is rendered dim and doubtful, by the cloudy medium through which it is communicated.” THE FEDERALIST No. 37 (Alexander Hamilton). And as Justice Holmes so wisely proclaimed, “[a] word is not a crystal, transparent and unchanged, it is the skin of a living thought and may vary greatly in color and content according to the circumstances and the time in which it is used.” Towne v. Eisner, 245 U.S. 418, 425 (1918). In other words, language is a somewhat imperfect medium for communication. It is thus not surprising that the Cart is called upon once more to interpret an ambiguous text. See In re China Garden, 5 Catt. 1 (2012).

Hot People Food

In this case, the truck’s name, “Hot People Food,” can, of course, be interpreted in myriad different ways, chief among them:

1. [[Hot People] Food], that is “food” that is intended for people who are (a) “hot” in terms of physical attraction, or (b) “hot” in terms of perceived or actual body temperature;
2. [[Hot People] Food], that is “food” that is prepared by people who are (a) “hot” in terms of physical attraction, or (b) “hot” in terms of perceived or actual body temperature; or
3. [Hot [People Food]], that is “people food” that is either (a) “hot” in terms of temperature, (b) “hot” in terms of spicing, or (c) “hot” in terms of excitement, as in: “Though time hadn’t dragged too heavily, what with talking and eating and drinking and three hot games of checkers between Wolfe and Saul, all draws, we were yawning.” Rex Stout, The Next Witness, in THREE WITNESSES 55 (1955).

“Hot People Food” may also be interpreted to mean warm and/or spicy Soylent Green, or Soylent Green made solely from warm, feverish, or attractive people, but, as a matter of policy, we of the Supreme Cart do not presume a mobile gastronomic enterprise (“MGE”) to deal in cannibalistic fair unless confronted with clear and convincing evidence.

There are, of course, other interpretations, too, due to the extensive polysemy of the term “hot.” “Hot” may also signify “stolen,” as in “I’ve got some ‘hot phones’ at the moment if you want to buy one cheap.” Urban Dictionary, hot, http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=hot (as of Jan. 29, 2012, 16:13 GMT) (emphasis added). But as a matter of policy, we of the Supreme Cart do not presume a MGE offerings to be stolen unless confronted with clear and convincing evidence of illicit activity.

At base, then, I am confronted with a choice between [[Hot People] Food] and [Hot [People Food]]. As I explain, I must, as a matter of law and constitutional principle, conclude that “Hot People Food” references the latter.

The most convincing evidence for the interpretation [[Hot People] Food] comes from HPF’s own Facebook page, which contains the following:

And as far as the name? Yes, “hot” does refer to the people in Arlington.

“I thought in this downtown, everybody’s hot,” Liao. “No matter what you do, everybody’s hot.”

Facebook, Hot People Food, http://www.facebook.com/HOTPEOPLEFOOD (as of Jan. 29, 2012, 16:58 GMT). This would seem to end at once the interpretive quandary. However, while an MGE’s interpretation of its own name may be entitled to some deference, its interpretation cannot be controlling. It is, after all, “emphatically the province of this Cart . . . ‘to say what the law is.’” In re Seoul Food, 3 Catt. 2 (2011) (quoting Marbury v. Madison, 5 U.S. (1 Cranch) 137 (1803)).

To interpret a mobile gastronomic enterprise’s name, I today adopt the legal tests and holdings of the following line of Supreme Court cases: Skidmore v. Swift & Co., 323 U.S. 134 (1944); Chevron U.S.A, Inc. v. Natural Resources Defense Council, Inc., 467 U.S. 837 (1984); and Christensen v. Harris County, 529 U.S. 576 (2000).

Therefore, under our jurisprudence, where an MGE announces its interpretation of an ambiguous text informally, it is subject only to some deference under Skidmore. But where an MGE announces its interpretation of an ambiguous text more formally, its interpretation shall be binding upon this Cart under Chevron, so long as the text is ambiguous and the construction given it permissible. Cf. Christensen v. Harris County, 529 U.S. 576 (2000).

In this case, HPF announced its interpretation on its Facebook page. I conclude that Facebook, like Twitter and an MGE’s own website, constitutes a place of “formal” pronouncement. Not only is Facebook public and official, it also allows for public commenting. Therefore, I pass to the two-step Chevron analysis.

Under Chevron, a court first determines “whether Congress has spoken directly to the precise question at issue. If the intent of Congress is clear, that is the end of the matter; for the court as well as the agency must give effect to the unambiguously expressed intent of Congress.” Chevron U.S.A. v. NRDC, 467 U.S. 837, 842–843 (1984). In this case, of course, we deal with Arlington County, in the Commonwealth of Virginia, and thus not with any Act of Congress. But because Arlington County must license an MGE, and therefore acquiesce to its chosen name, before the MGE may operate on the County’s streets, we attribute the naming of a truck to the County itself.

If the Cart determines that the name of the MGE is “silent or ambiguous with respect to the specific question,” the Cart “does not simply impose its own construction,” but rather determines whether “the [MGE’s] answer is based on a permissible construction of the [MGE’s name].” Id.

I have already answered the first inquiry. Yes, HPF’s name is ambiguous in that many differing meanings may be attributed to it. And so, I may pass safely to the second inquiry, that is, whether HPF’s interpretation, as announced formally on its Facebook page, is a “permissible construction.” I conclude that it is not.

In his concurrence in Ashwander v. TVA, 297 U.S. 288 (1936), Justice Brandeis articulated seven prudent rules guiding application of the doctrine of constitutional avoidance. The seventh of those, culled from the Court’s earlier decision in Crowell v. Benson, 285 U.S. 22 (1932), states that “[w]hen the validity of an act of the Congress is drawn in question, and even if a serious doubt of constitutionality is raised, it is a cardinal principle that this Court will first ascertain whether a construction of the statute is fairly possible by which the question may be avoided.” I hereby adopt this sound doctrine as the law of this Cart and apply it in this case. I hold also that a MGE, which may only operate at the acquiescence of a public enterprise subject to the dictates of the Constitution, is likewise bound by this doctrine of constitutional avoidance.

In this case, interpreting “Hot People Food” to signify “food” for “hot people” would raise serious constitutional questions under the Fourteenth Amendment. The Fourteenth Amendment states, in relevant part, that no State (or, in this case, Commonwealth) shall “deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.” Either interpretation along the lines of [hot people [food]]—that is food prepared by or intended for only “hot” people—raises serious constitutional questions. This Cart has not yet decided whether “hotness,” in terms of body warmth but especially in terms of attractiveness, constitutes a suspect or quasi-suspect classification under the Equal Protection Clause, and, in this context, where the question may be altogether avoided, I refuse to do so. The MGE, held to this same doctrine of constitutional avoidance, should also have so refused.

I therefore find that the only prudent and permissible interpretation of “Hot People Food” is “people food” that is “hot” in terms of spicing, temperature, excitement, or any combination of the above. That question resolved, I may pass to substantive review of HPF’s Hot People Dumplings.

II. HOT PEOPLE DUMPLINGS

HPF’s “Hot People Dumplings” come in either of two varieties: (1) chicken and mushroom, or (2) pork and corn. (I shall call the latter “porn” dumplings in keeping with HPF’s naming practices: Pleasure Chips, Sassy Chicken, Bikini Beef, Pork Belly Dancer, Naked Vegetable with Tofu, Sexy Roll, Saucy Stick, and GolDDen Egg.) An order consists of fourteen dumplings and is accompanied by a small tub of soy or soy-vinegar sauce and a large cup of miso soup, for which one is charged a reasonable $7.99. I ordered half chicken and mushroom and half porn. I also ordered lychee juice, which I turn to in Subpart C below.

A. “Street Food”

First, under our analysis, I must address our test for “street food” first announced in In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011). In Eat Wonky, my sister wrote that “street food is “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.”

In this case, Hot People Dumplings are served with a fork and thus do not fully satisfy our “street food” test (though they could easily and cleanly be eaten with one’s fingers). However, dumplings are, in fact, a traditional street food in East Asia, and, despite the inclusion of a fork, are easily eaten on the street while standing upright. I therefore hold that our Eat Wonky test is not intended to affirmatively define the entire class of “street food,” but is rather intended only to be a multifactor test to guide and direct our analysis. Here, despite the inclusion of a fork, I find that HPF’s Hot People Dumplings indeed constitute “street food.”

Because HPF’s Hot People Dumplings constitute “street food,” we may presume that the case should be affirmed. That is, the MGE has made out its prima facie case that its dish should be affirmed, and so the burden of proving that the case should be remanded lies with the Supreme Cart. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012). In this case, I find that presumption not to be rebutted here and thus affirm HPF’s Hot People Dumplings.

B. Dumplings

I now turn to the dumplings themselves. The two dumplings, steamed, tasted rather similar (except for the obvious and welcome addition of corn kernels in the porn dumplings), and so I consider both varieties together. There are two principal considerations: (1) the dumpling skin, and (2) the filling. I consider each in turn.

Skin. The clearly MGE-made dumpling skins were excellent: chewy and firm enough as to offer good mouthfeel, but not so chewy and firm as to overly strain one’s jaw. The skins lent themselves beautifully to steaming.

Filling. The fillings were mild in flavor but were indeed quite good. The unexpected corn kernels in the porn dumplings lent a nice sweetness and texture. The meat held up admirably to steaming and did not fall apart upon eating.

The only recommendation I might have is the addition of some sort of spice to the sauce, perhaps chili oil, but that is my own predilection and in no way detracts from the enjoyment or authenticity of the HPF experience.

C. Other Considerations

I am already prepared to affirm HPF’s Hot People Dumplings. However, several other considerations in HPF’s favor bear mentioning.

Lychee Juice. Along with the Hot People Dumplings, I ordered a can of lychee juice. Lychee is one of my favorite flavors in the international gastronome. I thus applaud HPF’s inclusion of lychee juice among its offerings.

Change. With the dumplings, lychee juice, and tax, my total came to a little over $10.00. I paid with a $20.00 bill. I thus expected $9.00 in change and some coins. I expected a $5.00 bill, four singles, and some coins. Instead, I received a $5.00, two $2.00 bills, and some coins. It is rare that one encounters the $2.00 bill, perhaps the nicest bill we have. I perhaps have some special affinity for the $2.00 given my period as a student at Mr. Jefferson’s University. I thus appreciate the novelty. Moreover, only that morning I had been discussing the rarity of the $2.00 with a clerk in my chambers. The serendipity of it all was exhilarating.

Service. I am usually not one to comment on service. In fact, as I have stated before, I often find that the best restaurants are those with long waits and terrible service. See In re El Floridano, 2 Catt. 2 (2011). However, at times especially good service is worth noting. See In re Doug the Food Dude, 5 Catt. 3 (2012). HPF’s service was gracious, generous, and an all around pleasure.

Acumen. HPF’s Facebook page notes that the MGE’s co-owners are recent high school graduates. Color me impressed.

III. CONCLUSION

It is therefore with pleasure that HPF’s Hot People Dumplings are

AFFIRMED.

CATTLEYA, J., concurring in part.

I concur in Parts I, II.A, and III of the Cart’s opinion.

I concur in Part II.B of the Cart’s opinion only to the extent that it relates to HPF’s pork and corn dumplings. I liked these dumplings—but in the way that I like cheap Chinese food. Nothing fancy or out of the ordinary, but good nevertheless. I believe that the reader should disregard the Cart’s opinion on HPF’s chicken and mushroom dumplings, as I have, because HPF no longer sells chicken and mushroom dumplings.

I take no part in Part II.C of the Cart’s opinion because, inter alia, 1) I did not taste the canned lychee juice, as I prefer fresh lychees; and 2) I did not get any $2.00 bills back when I paid with a $20.00 bill.

I write separately to emphasize the completeness of HPF’s meal. I mean this in two ways. First, the dumplings were very filling because HPF portions out fourteen (yes, fourteen!) pieces. Second, HPF serves its dumplings with a bowl of miso soup and throws a piece of guava hard candy into the diner’s takeaway bag. Thus, I felt like I had a three-course meal. Although the quality of HPF’s miso soup was typical of any Japanese restaurant, it was nice to have as a starter. And I appreciated the guava hard candy, as it sweetened my palate at the end of the meal.

Hot People Dumplings

Finally, I would like to note that HPF offered me a sample of the fried version of their pork and corn dumpling. It was excellent. Because the dumpling skin was not too thick, it came out crispy and light. A full fourteen-piece order of HPF’s fried dumplings would be a delicious and indulgent treat. (With steamed and fried dumplings, HPF could be on its way to becoming a go-to dumpling truck. Now if only HPF would add soup dumplings to its menu . . .)

Rolling Ficelle (“RF”), a mobile maker of sandwiches, rolled by my chambers on a day that I had forgotten my sack lunch at home. I was tempted to give it a pass and search for another “mobile gastronomic enterprise” because it was a frigid and blustery afternoon, and I doubted that a cold sandwich would be hearty enough for my stomach. But there was a long line outside RF’s truck while not even a single customer queued up for the food trucks on either side of it. Sensing the potential of a gastronomic gem, I ignored the call of a hot meal on a cold winter day and got in line for a sandwich.

Rolling Ficelle

I. STREET FOOD

It is the well-settled case law of the Supreme Cart that sandwiches are “street food,” as this court has defined the term. See In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011) (“[S]treet food is “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.”); In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012) (finding that two different kinds of sandwiches qualified as street food under the Eat Wonky test). Because RF’s sandwiches constitute street food, “a presumption arises that the case should be affirmed” and that “the burden of proof lies entirely with the Supreme Cart to prove that the case should be remanded to [RF] for revision.” Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2. I do not even want to try to meet this burden because the sandwich makers in this case are sandwich gods.

II. GORKY FICELLE

Let me be clear: RF doesn’t slap together simple deli sandwiches. It offers “gourmet sandwiches on fresh . . . [ficelle] bread.” The Chief Justice’s clerks (who have agreed to help me with research until I am able to secure my own clerk) inform me that a ficelle is like a French baguette, except it is smaller and thinner. RF’s ficelles are made by Lyon Bakery, a much-loved artisan bakery in DC.

When I reached the front of the line, the gentleman who took my order greeted me warmly. “Welcome,” he said in a, well, welcoming way.  (I noticed that to the lady ahead of me, he had said, “Welcome back.” How he knew that I was a new customer and she was a returning customer, I do not know.) I ordered the sandwich that was listed first on the menu, assuming its top spot meant that it was something of a signature dish. RF describes the Gorky Ficelle as “Danish ham layered with sliced Fresh Mozzarella cheese, tomato, chopped Kalamata olives, Pesto and fresh Basil.”

Gorky Ficelle

Did I like the Gorky Ficelle? I will answer that question with another question. When, oh when, can I eat it again? (Actually, I don’t just want another Gorky Ficelle. I want to try every sandwich on RF’s menu just for the chance to devour ficelle after ficelle. Lyon Bakery’s bread is the perfect loaf. A lovely golden brown color. Crusty on the outside. Soft and moist on the inside. A masterpiece of texture!)

RF’s sandwich fillings were of the highest quality. With every bite, I tasted good, fresh ingredients. My only complaint was that I couldn’t fit a little bit of everything—ham, mozzarella, tomato, olives, pesto, and basil—into one bite. (But that was probably a problem of jaw size and not a problem with the sandwich.) After I finished off every last crumb, this Associate Justice was very happy and full. (RF’s creations are pretty sizeable. RF offers a “combination” deal with chips and a drink, but the sandwich alone is enough for a meal.)

The bottom line: I plan to return to RF as soon as it comes around again. No, strike that. With high-quality sandwiches on perfect ficelles for a reasonable $6.95, I will chase down RF to wherever it parks. And when I next find myself in front of RF’s window, I hope that I will be recognized as a returning customer and greeted with a “welcome back.”

With great pleasure, the case is

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

Cartiorari was granted on the questions of two offerings of Big Cheese (“BC”): (1) Midnight Moon, and (2) Truffle Shuffle. I order that both offerings be remanded to BC for further revision.

First, an admission of possible bias. I was initially hesitant to try BC because the grilled cheese sandwich, like the tater tot, is a dish that even institutional kitchens ordinarily prepare palatably. However, as explained below, the grilled cheese sandwich is a near perfect example of “street food.” Moreover, there is indeed some fine art to the pairing of breads, cheeses, and vegetative additions. And so I approached BC with the most open of minds and the emptiest of stomachs.

I. “STREET FOOD”

I must address whether the two sandwiches in question constitute “street food” as defined in In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011). In Eat Wonky, my sister wrote that “street food is “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” Therefore, to constitute “street food,” a dish must (1) be cooked or be capable of being cooked in front of the customer, i.e., aboard the mobile gastronomic enterprise (“MGE”); (2) is meant to be eaten with one’s hands, i.e., without forks or other cutlery; and (3) is eaten or is capable of being eaten while standing up.

In this case, both sandwiches constitute “street food” as they are prepared or are capable of being prepared in front of the customer aboard the MGE, are eaten with hands and without cutlery, and are eaten or are capable of being eaten while standing up.

However, our case law has been less than clear as to what effect a determination that a dish constitutes “street food” has upon our ultimate analysis.

I hold today that where an offering is deemed to constitute “street food,” a presumption arises that the case should be affirmed. That is, the MGE has made out its prima facie case and the burden of proof lies entirely with the Supreme Cart to prove that the case should be remanded to the MGE for revision.

Therefore, in this case, a rebuttable presumption arises that BC’s Midnight Moon and and Truffle Shuffle should be affirmed. However, I find that presumption to be rebutted here. I therefore find that both sandwiches merit remand.

II. MIDNIGHT MOON

BC’s Midnight Moon (“MM”) is “Midnight Moon” goat gouda paired with caramelized onions between two slices of multigrain bread.

Midnight Moon

Pioneer Woman claims that men don’t eat goat cheese.[1] However, this Chief Justice finds this logic to be flawed via two simple predicates: I am male, and I eat goat cheese. Therefore, the conclusion that no men eat goat cheese is patently false. I hold as a matter of law that men do, in fact, eat goat cheese. Because sex-based classifications are suspect under the Equal Protection Clause, I find that any other result would raise serious questions of constitutional scope. See, e.g., United States v. Virginia, 518 U.S. 515 (1996).

That resolved, I may turn to the MM sandwich itself, which I found to be lacking. The cheese itself, at least under the circumstances, did not appear to be a very good melting cheese. And while I could see caramelized onions in my sandwich, I could not taste them. The sandwich itself seemed like two pieces of dry bread, which does not a grilled cheese sandwich make. There was no gooey, oozing cheese which is so indicative of a grilled cheese sandwich. In fact, I could barely taste the cheese at all. Overall, the sandwich did not taste at all as if it had been freshly prepared.

III. TRUFFLE SHUFFLE

BC’s Truffle Shuffle (“TS”) is sottocenere with artichoke hearts on white bread (read decent white bread, not Wonder Bread). I could not detect any artichokes, and so I will pretend that the TS is merely sottocenere on white bread. The white bread was a good choice. Mellow, it allows the complexity of the sottocenere to shine through. But, once again, BC appears to have selected a cheese that is not particularly well-suited to melting. The cheese itself was almost grainy.

Truffle Shuffle

One thing I will say for the TS it that, unlike the MM, it had flavor. Lots of flavor.

Before sottocenere is aged, truffles and truffle oil are added to the curds. The outside of the wheel of cheese is then rubbed with ashes, truffle oil, herbs, and spices, creating a thin, brittle rind. While I ordinarily detest mushrooms, I “don’t mind” truffles, and indeed, at times, quite like the earthy, musty essence they bring to a dish. Sottocenere is indeed quite inundated with the flavor of truffle, which could, in theory, make for a unique and complex grilled cheese. I do commend BC for its bold and attention-grabbing choice of cheese.

However, as I have said, the preparation of the sandwich was technically flawed, which, I’m afraid, dooms the entire sandwich to remand.

IV. CONCLUSION

Therefore, both BC’s MM and TS must be

REMANDED to Big Cheese for revision. It is so ordered.

[1] Pioneer Woman may have been referring only to chèvre. But if that is the case, she should speak with more clarity. Moreover, I would still find her logic to be faulty.

On cold winter days, my stomach is only satisfied by warm and hearty meals. It was with this stick-to-your-ribs hunger that I approached Salt and Pepper Grill (“SPG”), a food truck serving Indian cuisine.

Salt and Pepper Grill

SPG’s menu includes dishes that one would expect to find at an Indian restaurant, like chicken tikka masala and palak paneer. Since SPG’s menu so closely resembles an Indian restaurant’s menu, it is not surprising that the culinary offerings are not true “street food,” as this Cart has defined the term.  See  In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011); see also In re Dangerously Delicious Pies, 4 Catt. 4 (2011); In re Sâuçá, 4 Catt. 3 (2011); In re PORC, 4 Catt. 1 (2011);  In re Hula Girl, 3 Catt. 7 (2011).  In other words, platters containing meat, vegetables, and rice are usually not cooked in front of you (rather, they are cooked in advance); they are usually not meant to be eaten with your hands (forks and knives help the eating process considerably); and they are usually not meant to be eaten while standing up (it requires a third hand to cut meat with a knife and fork while holding a takeout container).  However, that day I wanted a hot meal that would fill my stomach to the brink, which true street food does not always do, and so I will overlook that aspect of SPG’s case.

I ordered the chicken tikka masala, but SPG had just run out of it.  As it was still early in the lunch rush, either the dish was in high demand or SPG prepared too little of it (or both).  In any event, if you don’t want the chicken tikka masala to sell out before you get there, you might have to take an early lunch break.

Seekh Kabab

SPG recommended the seekh kabab over rice, with palak paneer, potato curry, and chick peas.  Feeling the rumbling in my stomach, I accepted the recommendation.  Below, I review each component of my lunch platter:

Seekh kabab.  Disappointing.
The minced meat was flavorful (probably from cumin or coriander), as well as spicy (perhaps from cayenne pepper).  Chopped green leaves, either mint or cilantro, were present.  (I note this because I dislike cilantro.  My mother tells me that cilantro is an acquired taste, much like uni at sushi bars, and that I will like cilantro once my taste buds mature.  I doubt that.)  Here, the cilantro, if it indeed was cilantro, was too small a dose to bother my immature taste buds, so that was not a strike against the seekh kabab.  The following, however, were strikes against the seekh kabab: 1) it was dry; and 2) it was a smaller portion than other meat over rice selections available on the street.  See In re AZN Eats, 2 Catt. 3 (2011); In re Tasty Kabob, 3 Catt. 4 (2011).

Palak paneer.  Excellent.
The pureed spinach and cheese curds swam in a delicious, creamy curry.

Chick peas; Potato curry.  Good.
Not much to say.  Both were tasty.

Rice.  Good.
SPG’s rice obviously was not the white sticky rice that is often associated with Asian cuisine and that holds a culinary soft spot in my heart.  See In re AZN Eats, 2 Catt. 3 (2011);  In re Seoul Food (The Korean Superbowl Case), 3 Catt. 1 (2011); In re Yellow Vendor, 4 Catt. 2 (2011). But I can appreciate other types of rice, such as basmati, and SPG’s white and yellow rice was very satisfying.

Roti.  Disappointing.
The flatbread was dry, tough, and chewy.

The bottom line:  SPG’s platter was very filling, given the presence of rice, potatoes, and bread.  The side dishes were delicious, especially the palak paneer, but the seekh kabab — what should have been the star of the platter — fell short.  Still, at $7, the platter did its job: it warmed my stomach on a cold winter day.

I AFFIRM in part and REMAND in part to Salt and Pepper Grill for revision. It is so ordered.

Winter is upon us, and with winter comes a certain desire for soups and stews. And so, it is in that spirit, that we turn to Seoul Food (“SF”), a truck which, come cold weather, purveys two seasonal offerings: (1) yukgaejang, and (2) kimchi and pork stew. [1]

This Cart has twice now reviewed SF, first in an in chambers opinion, The Korean Superbowl Case, 3 Catt. 1 (2011)—in which we remanded to Seoul Food for revision—and again in an opinion of the full Supreme Cart, The Beef Bibimbap Case, 3 Catt. 2 (2011)—in which we heartily affirmed. In this case, on the question of winter stews, I affirm once more.

I. YUKGAEJANG

Yukgaejang is “a spicy, soup-like Korean dish made from shredded beef with scallions and other ingredients, which are simmered together for a long time.” Wikipedia, Yukgaejang, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yukgaejang (as of Jan. 14, 2012, 9:25 GMT) (emphasis added). Seoul Food’s yukgaejang is indeed spicy, as indicated by its ruddy coloration. Though, at the time I ate the yukgaejang, I was afflicted with catarrh, my sinuses have only rarely ever been so clear as they were after I had finished the soup. (Welcome news, as I would much prefer to take yukgaejang than TheraFlu.) Besides just being spicy, SF’s yukgaejang imparted a terrific depth of flavor and made for a terrific meal.

Most impressive to me, however, were the shiitake mushrooms. As followers of this Cart will know, I detest mushrooms with a fiery passion. However, SF’s yukgaejang contained one of three mushrooms I can recall having really enjoyed, the other two being a tree mushroom in a noodle bowl at Morimoto and a morel atop the “vermicelli prepared like pudding” at America Eats Tavern.

Yukgaejang

II. KIMCHI AND PORK STEW

I adore a proper kimchi. Cf. In re TaKorean, 1 Catt. 4 (2011) (holding that to be “proper,” kimchi must be fermented). But kimchi has the unfortunate side effect that one’s breath and body begin to reek considerably of fermented cabbage. (Admittedly this is more unfortunate to others than to one’s self, but, alas, image is everything.) And so I was wary of trying kimchi stew in the middle of a work day. Nevertheless—and happily for me—my love of kimchi prevailed over my super-ego, and an order of kimchi and pork stew I would have.

The kimchi, while “proper,” is actually not as pungent as other kimchis I have had at immobile gastronomic enterprises, such as Yechon—which is perhaps for the best in the middle of a workday. Nevertheless, the kimchi sufficiently imparted the taste of kimchi. The broth was spectacular, possessing, like the yukgaejang, true depth of flavor. The pork bits that floated amid were also quite delicious.

SF is once again a truck to be reckoned with. See In re Seoul Food, 3 Catt. 2 (2011). I anticipate returning again and again for its winter soups. I pray to God that Punxsutawney Phil sees his shadow come Groundhog Day.

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

[1] Both the yukgaejang and the kimchi and pork stew come with rice.

We granted cartiorari to Bada Bing (“BB”) under Rule of Procedure 2-4(a), according to the petition of Anonymous. BB is a food truck that serves “sangwiches” in the form of cheesesteaks and spiedies. We assume the reader knows what a cheesesteak is. (And if not, we assume the reader can figure it out based on the two separate words that make up the one combined word.) But what, the reader rightfully asks, is a spiedie? BB explains as follows:

The name “Spiedie” derives from the Italian word “Spiedini”, which refers to anything cooked on a skewer.

Okay. So, then how does one order a spiedie? BB answers that, too.

1. Choose Chicken or Pork.
2. Choose Salad or Hoagie
3. Choose O.G. (plain) or Gourmet (choose a gourmet spiedie type)

Following these rules, we stepped up to BB’s window and said: “One, chicken; two, hoagie; and three, OG.” Translated, this means that we ordered a chicken O.G. spiedie sangweech ($6.50).

Bada Bing

BB needs a few minutes to prepare each order, so the truck personnel asks for your name, which is then called out when your lunch is ready. Because order and justice demand our anonymity, I called myself Alice that day. (Unfortunately, I momentarily forgot that I was Alice when my spiedie was done. “Oh, that’s right, I’m Alice,” I said as I reached for my spiedie.)

BB’s chicken O.G. spiedie consists of two elements: 1) the hoagie roll; and 2) the chicken. There is not much to say about the hoagie roll other than it was soft and not stale. There is more to say about the chicken, but not all of what we have to say is good. (This undoubtedly will result in fewer reads of this particular opinion, but order and justice demand our honesty, too.)

Chicken O.G. Spiedie

BB explains that its meat is “marinated in a blend of olive oil, vinegar, and [I]talian herbs and spices.” This part was done very well.  BB’s chicken was packed with flavor. BB also says that its meat is “charbroiled over an open flame.” This part was not done so well. Our chicken was overcooked and dry. Perhaps we would not have noticed the dry chicken if we had ordered a gourmet spiedie instead of a plain spiedie. But ingredients like chipotle mayo, blue cheese, and ginger glaze should not be used to mask dry meat. The meat should have held up on its own. Because it did not, the case is remanded in part to BB for revision.

As my brother’s dissenting opinion notes, we made four visits to BB — three by the Chief Justice and one by this lowly Associate Justice (who, unlike the Chief Justice, was not asked to appear before the Senate Judiciary Committee). During the conference that occurred after our individual eating experiences, my brother agreed that BB’s chicken was dry. Then after our conference, he took it upon himself to taste BB’s chicken O.G. spiedie again . . . and then again. Although nothing in our Rules precludes this, I am offended that he did not invite me. (In all honesty, however, based on my sampling, I most likely would have declined his invitation if he had been polite enough to extend one.) I now learn from my brother’s dissenting opinion that he found BB’s chicken to be moist. I am very glad for the Chief Justice, for the chicken, and for BB. However, the fact remains that BB’s chicken was moist on only two of four occasions. To affirm BB’s chicken O.G. spiedie, this Cart must demand a consistently moist chicken.

AFFIRMED in part and REMANDED in part to Bada Bing for revision.

Appendix I

Food aside, BB should be recognized for its truck’s thoughtful features.

First, BB explains how to pronounce “spiedie.”

Then it takes your order from one window while you are treated to delightful sounds from exterior speakers.

Finally, BB delivers your order from another window. Also, conveniently located near that window are plastic bags for you to pack your food if you need to walk to another eating location.

JEREMY, C.J., dissenting.

First, I would like to thank BB for blaring “Eh, Cumpari!” while I waited for my chicken O.G. spiedie. Julius La Rosa exemplifies a time when music was music. (Arthur Godfrey, on the other hand, like the law, is a ass—a idiot.)

Second, I feel I must add to the gastronomic history lesson offered by my sister “Alice.” (“‘It is a stupid name enough!’ Humpty Dumpty interrupted impatiently.'”) My clerks inform me that the spiedie (/’spi:di/) is a Binghamton staple. (N.B.: My sister continues to inquire after my clerks. Given the current state of the legal job market, she should have no trouble finding a suitable clerk or two of her own.) All I had ever known of Binghamton is that it lies on the Susquehanna, that it boasts a SUNY, and, most importantly, that it is the Carousel Capital of the World. I had never known that Binghamton was so large and distinctive a metropolis as to possess its own cuisine. But there you have it. We ordered BB’s chicken O.G. spiedie because, my clerks inform me, that is how it is eaten in Binghamton.

In the end, though, I must part ways with my dear sister Alice’s finding as to the dryness of BB’s meat. While she writes “our” and “we,” she speaks for herself. I was pleasantly surprised at the quality of BB’s chicken. Granted we sampled it separately, on different days, due to the demands of my appearing before the Senate Judiciary Committee to discuss certain suggested changes to our Rules of Procedure. In fact, unlike my sister Alice, I sampled BB’s chicken O.G. spiedie on three separate occasions. Based on the first taste, I had initially voted in conference as my sister Alice so decides in her opinion. But based on my second and third samples, I would fully affirm, without any partial remand. The chicken was as moist and flavorful as any chicken I’ve had.

Appendix II

I have waited a long time to try Dangerously Delicious Pies. I have quite a thing for pies, which may, perhaps, rival my affinity for duck. Twice now, I have approached the truck only to have it drive away before I could procure any baked good. At Truckeroo last, we were finally able to hail Dangerously Delicious Pies (“DDP”) before this Cart for deliberation. We limit our grant of cartiorari to the question of DDP’s blackberry pie.

Dangerously Delicious Pies

I had wanted to begin my review with a Twin Peaks reference. Or rather a Twin Beaks reference, for those acquainted with the collected works of one Alistair Cookie. “Darn fine pie,” I had so wanted to say. But, alas, I find myself unable to do so.

DDP’s blackberry pie was not terrible. I could have finished it, and mostly enjoyed each bite, but it tasted like any pie I could purchase from Safeway or Giant. Both the thin top crust (the bottom crust was non-existent) and the blackberry filling tasted, in a word, old. Granted we tasted the pie near the end of an all-day event, which may be the cause of this taste of antiquity. Cf. In re PORC, 4 Catt. 1 (2011). (If time permits, I may grant reconsideration in this case of my own motion, to determine whether a lunchtime pie provides a more pleasurable experience.)

Blackberry Pie

In the end, I am led to believe this may be one more instance in which food that satisfies the Eat Wonky test (i.e., true street food, or “the kind[] . . . that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up”) is simply better suited to “mobile gastronomic enterprises.” See In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011). Cf. PORC, 4 Catt. 1; In re Hula Girl, 3 Catt. 7 (2011). Baked goods are made elsewhere and simply transported to a curbside, having no direct reliance on curbside preparation, and thus fail our Eat Wonky test. This is true for pie trucks and likely also for cupcake trucks. (But should the case of any cupcake truck come before this Cart, I vow now, given my severe aversion to cupcakeries, to recuse myself. It will be for my sister to determine whether this supposition is borne out by reality.)

REMANDED to Dangerously Delicious Pies for revision.

CATTLEYA, J., concurring.

I concur. While it should come as no surprise to the devoted reader that I prefer pie a la mode, I so wanted to like DDP’s blackberry pie. Unfortunately, for the reasons stated in the Cart’s opinion, I did not. What’s even more unfortunate is that this blackberry pie will be remembered as the third dish we Cart Justices did not finish. See In re CapMac, 1 Catt. 1 (2011); In re Sâuçá, 4 Catt. 3 (2011) (Cattleya, J., concurring). At $6.50, it was not the worst waste of money, but a waste it still was. Cf. Sâuçá, 4 Catt. 3 ($8 of unfinished food).

Finally, I want to take a moment to declare that, yes, I will answer my brother’s cupcake call. Although cupcakes do not, at first glance, appear to meet the Eat Wonky street food test, see In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011), I am willing to sample this dessert for the sake of justice. I list here, in advance, the elements that I look for in a cupcake: 1) a moist cake; 2) a buttercream frosting (fondant icing will never do); 3) a good cake-frosting ratio; and 4) a comforting flavor, like red velvet or chocolate hazelnut.

Holy duck! A duck truck, or something approaching it: a “mobile gastronomic enterprise” purveying a “Gin [and] Juniper Duck Sausage,” described as a “hunter style sausage on mixed greens, w[ith] balsamic reduction.” This truck, which has so won my admiration from its mere inclusion of a duck dish, is Purveyors of Rolling Cuisine (“PORC”), an establishment specializing in “all things meat.” The presence of duck required that we grant cartiorari in this case. A chorus of mutterings of “duck sausage,” “duck sausage!,” “duck sausage?” behind us as we waited to order only confirmed the soundness of our grant.

I begin with a matter of judicial conduct. Followers of the opinions of this Supreme Cart may recall that in an early case, my sister began her opinion by addressing a certain “distasteful matter,” namely my “severe” love for lamb, which my colleague thought necessitated my recusal. See Metro Halal Food v. Tasty Kabob, 1 Catt. 2 (2011). She has since reiterated this belief and took what she supposed to be remedial action in an outwardly unlawful manner. See In re Tasty Kabob, 3 Catt. 4 (2011). I have time and time again refused to recuse myself merely because I am a devotee of lamb. See In re Ali Khan Express, 3 Catt. 5 (2011); Metro Halal Food, 1 Catt. 2 (2011) (Jeremy, C.J., concurring). In Metro Halal Food, I did note that “lamb ranks only second in my hierarchy of preferred proteins. Well behind duck, in fact, for which my love and admiration is indeed ‘severe.’” Metro Halal Food, 1 Catt. 2 (2011) (Jeremy, C.J., concurring) (emphasis in original). Pertinently, I noted that a “duck truck” would “present a far better case for my colleague’s argument [that I recuse myself due to severity of love for a particular food product].” Id. In this case, while not confronted with a “duck truck” per se, we are indeed confronted with a duck offering. Still, as I said I would in Metro Halal, I once more refuse to recuse myself. See id.

My sister has twice reiterated her belief that truck food should be street food, that is “the kind[] of food[] that can be cooked in front of you and [is] meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011); In re Hula Girl, 3 Catt. 7 (2011) (citing Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5). I concurred in both cases. I hereby more explicitly note my approval of this logic and of this definition. PORC’s gin and juniper duck sausage passes muster (mustard?) under our Eat Wonky test. It is a playful take on that most American of street foods—the hot dog—and perhaps a nod in particular to that most Washingtonian of street foods: the half-smoke.

PORC: Purveyors of Rolling Cuisine

In the following sections, I analyze each aspect of the sausage separately.

Casing. The first thing one notices about a sausage is its casing. PORC’s casing is spectacular. It is perhaps one of the finest casings I have encountered anywhere, within or without our subject-matter or geographic jurisdiction. As my teeth bit into it, a loud snap was heard, like a dam bursting, unleashing a few airborne globules of moisture, one of which may or may not have reached the cheek of the stranger to my left.

Preparation. The sausage was perfectly grilled, which lent an attractive sheen to the spectacular casing and preserved its spectacle. While I enjoy a decent boiled half-smoke from one of the city’s original mobile gastronomic enterprises, topped with mustard and sauerkraut (the half-smoke, not the truck), on a cold DC day, there is something special about a sausage that is grilled instead.

Texture. The texture of the sausage is what most reminds me of a half-smoke. The meat is ground much more coarsely than a traditional street hot dog, such that each bite differs ever so slightly from the one that precedes it.

Taste. The taste of the sausage on its own is decent, but not overwhelming. The flavor of duck is not immediately obvious, and, more importantly, the sausage is not as heavily spiced as I might have expected. I was prepared to grant a partial remand on this point, but once I tried the sausage together with the mixed greens and balsamic reduction below it, the taste of the sausage suddenly made sense. The two complement each other beautifully. The bun in which the two sit is of the right texture and consistency to absorb the reduction and balance out the other two components. (The bun was a bit dry, but given that we tried the dish toward the end of a long day of Truckeroo, I’m willing to overlook this point.)

Cole Slaw. The dish also comes with a side of mayonnaise-less cole slaw, which, I must say, was among the most interesting of cole slaws I’ve tasted. It tasted almost of ground mustard seed. It had a lovely, bright acidity. It was never too sweet, as many cole slaws are. Added to the top of the sausage and the mixed greens and the bun, it made for quite a delicious bite. A nod to sauerkraut, perhaps. (Without actually calling it sauerkraut. Doing so would be as egregious as calling a raw-cabbage slaw “kimchi-style.” Cf. In re TaKorean, 1 Catt. 4 (2011). It is well known how such nomenclature irks the Justices of this Cart.)

Gin & Juniper Duck Sausage

I’m not sure if this dish is part of PORC’s regular repertoire, or whether it is trotted out only at special events. If the latter, I recommend that it become the former. Not only because it is duck, and my love for duck is indeed “severe,” but because it is quite a good dish in its own right.

AFFIRMED.

CATTLEYA, J., concurring.

Despite my brother’s devotion to duck, he has tasted PORC’s duck sausage with a just and fair tongue. This was $7 very well spent.

We granted cartiorari to Hula Girl (“HG”) under Rule of Procedure 2-4(a), according to the petition of NotDeansPolsby. Hula Girl is a food truck “bringing a taste of the Hawaiian Islands to DC.” Is there a food product that’s more Hawaiian than spam? This Cart thinks not, and so today we review HG’s version of the Hawaiian staple called spam musubi. (For a brief history on spam in Hawaii, which dates back to World War II, see, e.g., Hawaii’s Love Affair with Canned Item Continues, Associated Press (Feb. 22, 2009)).

Hula Girl

In In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011), this Cart explained that street food “can be cooked in front of you” and is “meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” Spam musubi meets this three-part definition. First, spam musubi — fried spam and vinegared white rice wrapped in nori — can be made on the spot, on a truck. (Despite this possibility, HG most likely makes its spam musubi ahead of time to facilitate quicker service. If so, this is a business decision that does not affect whether a food is in fact “street” in nature.) Second, one eats spam musubi with one’s hands. One is not supposed to use a fork, knife, spork, or any other eating utensil. Finally, spam musubi can be eaten on the go. It is neither messy nor complicated. One need only bring it close to one’s mouth, bite, and chew. Therefore, spam musubi satisfies the three-prong Eat Wonky test; it is the kind of food that should come off a truck.

Spam Musubi

Having determined that spam musubi is a proper street food, this Cart can recommend HG’s spam musubi without hesitation. The spam slices were salty, as one expects spam to be, and yet they were not too salty. The generous portion of vinegared rice balanced the spam very nicely. And the seaweed wrap was perfect — not tough or chewy. Although the spam musubi was gone in less than three minutes, it was a simple and satisfying snack.

Bottom line: Looking for an afternoon snack? Line up for HG’s spam musubi, and look no more. Not only is it a yummy, filling treat, but it’s relatively cheap, too! At $3, it’s the lowest-priced item that the Justices of this Cart have sampled so far. Cf. In re International Grill, 3 Catt. 6 (2011) ($5 meal).

AFFIRMED.

JEREMY, C.J., concurring.

I share my sister’s enthusiasm for HG’s spam musubi. I have little to add and write only to note that HG’s spam was of the highest quality.

International Grill is a nondescript food truck. The only clue to its cuisine is a line painted on the door: “con sabor Latino.” It does not have a website, a Facebook page, or a Twitter feed. It does not even have a menu. It parks near a construction site in the Clarendon neighborhood (by the Herndon and 13th Street Park), and it feeds long lines of men in hard hats.

International Grill

I got in line with the construction workers, who seemed amused to be joined by someone who was not working on the site. They were incredibly patient as I slowed down their line. While they were all regulars who knew exactly what they wanted (carne asada, from what I overheard), I had no clue how to order from a truck that didn’t have a menu. Plus, my Spanish-speaking skills were very rusty.

I need not have worried. The proprietor of the truck looked at me, switched from Spanish to English, and said, “I’ll make something you’ll like.” She reminded me of my mother, who sits me down at her kitchen table whenever I go back home and just feeds me. I was handed a very heavy platter of food: a stew of beef, potatoes, carrots, peppers and onions served over rice, with side dishes of beans and a salad, plus a fresh tortilla. (The truck had just run out of carne asada. I may have to return one day for that.)

Sitting down to this dish was like being invited to someone’s table for a home-cooked meal. The beef was slow-cooked and tender. The tortilla was pillowy. The beans were silky and sweet. Even though I took the meal back to my chambers, I was sure that the cook would know—and would be insulted—if I didn’t eat it all, so I ate and ate and ate until I was stuffed and ready for an afternoon nap.

Bottom line: International Grill’s beef stew was warm, filling, and a steal at $5.

I affirm. It is so ordered.

The lamb-loving Chief Justice refused to recuse himself in a prior proceeding involving Tasty Kabob (“TK”), a fleet of food trucks and carts serving Halal food. See Metro Halal Food v. Tasty Kabob, 1 Catt. 2 (2011) (Jeremy, C.J., concurring). He based his refusal on my own “penchant for orange cheese.” Id. However, I have demonstrated my ability to taste orange cheese with impartiality. I was able to detect the sourness of CapMac’s macaroni and cheese, despite its wonderfully orange hue. See In re Cap Mac, 1 Catt. 1 (2011).  I was also able to admit that DC Empanadas’s cheesy Speedy Gonzalez was not bad at all, even though it wasn’t orange in color. See In re DC Empanadas, 1 Catt. 3 (2011) (Cattleya, J., concurring in part and dissenting in part). Until the Chief Justice displays a similar ability not to be automatically swayed by lamb dishes, I will take the temptation out of his hands. On the issue of TK’s lamb and rice, I ate alone.

Tasty Kabob

TK’s lamb and rice was heavily drizzled with tzatziki and hot sauces. The meal came with a salad, plus a choice of a side. The cart that I visited offered either chick peas or spinach. (TK’s online menu includes potatoes and okra, but these might only be available off TK’s trucks). I opted for the chick peas.

As I walked away with the Styrofoam carryout container in my hands, its weight immediately promised a filling meal. Twenty minutes later, that promise was met. I was full. Even better, I was satisfied.

Lamb & Rice

The chopped chunks of lamb gyro worked well with the long-grained rice. Although I wanted slices of gyro meat in my lamb gyro, see Tasty Kabob, 1 Catt. 2, I wanted thicker cuts of lamb to go over rice. And that’s what I got. The thick chunks accentuated how moist and tasty the meat was. There was plenty of rice, too—it did not run out before I finished off the lamb. There was even enough left to mix in with my side of chick peas. The chick peas were the weakest part of an otherwise strong culinary showing. Although the chick peas were still a bit firm and not mushy at all, they sat in a sauce that was . . . boring. Not bad, just bland. Finally, the salad was nothing special, but it provided something fresh and cool to temper the heat of the hot sauce. A very good thing to eat last.

TK’s lamb and rice was a solid deal at $7. (Reader, take note that TK’s website lists the price as $9. Perhaps this is the price for lamb and rice off TK’s trucks?) Although I cleaned off my white Styrofoam container completely, next time I’ll probably save half for dinner — to watch my waistline and my wallet.

The last time that TK was a party to a Cart proceeding, we noted that TK did not advertise the locations of its carts. See Tasty Kabob, 1 Catt. 2. TK has updated its website, and it now posts the locations of its carts. Unfortunately, it still doesn’t seem to post or tweet days (or hours) for the carts. The cart at GMU’s Arlington Campus, for example, can be there Mondays thru Fridays, sometimes even until 5pm.[1] But it doesn’t seem to have found a regular, reliable schedule yet (especially on rainy days). I’d advise you to just walk over and check whether it’s there. If not, you can always cross the street and head to El Pollo Rico.

I affirm. It is so ordered.

[1] I would like to take a moment to encourage more proprietors of food trucks to consider parking near metro stations and staying open for the evening commute. I’d love to be able to pick up dinner on my way home from the court.

*Update. As of February 2012, Tasty Kabob no longer operates the cart on GMU’s Arlington Campus.

Eat Wonky (“EW”) bills itself as the “mischievous cousin” that “you’re not quite sure what he’s going to do next.” Apparently, mischievous cousins serve up poutine and whoopie pies. We have already reviewed EW’s poutine, a.k.a. Wonky Fries™. See In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 4 (2011). We now turn to EW’s whoopie pie.

The Justices of this Cart may not have the best palates to review a whoopie pie. The Chief Justice much prefers pie to cake. However, a whoopie pie, despite its name, is not a pie at all. (In our view, pies are defined by their flaky pastry crust.) For my part, I much prefer cupcakes to whoopie pies. But we would not be Justices if we could not put our personal tastes aside, and so we review this confusingly-named dessert for our reader.

EW offers whoopie pies in assorted flavors for $3 each. Unfortunately, you don’t get to choose your flavor; you just get whatever EW gives you. And when EW gives you a whoopie pie, you’re not really getting a whoopie pie from EW. EW’s whoopie pies are actually made by Virginia-based Sweet Ladies Bakery (“SLB”).

Whoopie Pie

(When EW handed me a whoopie pie—pre-prepared and prepackaged—it struck me that food trucks often sell restaurant/bakery food on the street, rather than street food on the street. What I would like to see coming off trucks are the kinds of foods that can be cooked in front of you and are meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up. The way that it’s done in the Philippines, Turkey, Thailand, and Hong Kong, just to name a few places. So while the Chief Justice waits for his duck truck, see Metro Halal Food v. Tasty Kabob, 1 Catt. 2 (2011) (Jeremy, C.J., concurring), I’ll wait for my true street food truck.)

According to SLB’s website, it offers whoopie pies in five flavors: chocolate, lemon, vanilla, banana, and peanut butter. There are also six different cream fillings: vanilla, peanut butter, blackberry, coconut, raspberry, and hazelnut. On our visit, we were handed a chocolate whoopie pie with a vanilla cream filling. Or was it a raspberry cream filling?

Vanilla and raspberry are two flavors that are not easily confused. I know that vanilla tastes like, well, vanilla, and raspberry tastes like, well, raspberry. To be clear, I don’t mean to suggest that the vanilla filling tasted like raspberry, or vice versa. Rather, the flavor—whether it was vanilla or raspberry (or something else entirely)—got lost when paired with the stronger flavor of the surrounding chocolate cake. This was not a problem of proportions. There was enough cream filling between the cake pieces. It’s just that the filling was quiet whereas the chocolate screamed.

I liked the loud, chocolatey flavor of the cake. It was the kind that made you remember why chocolate is an addiction. The cake also had the right density: not too dense, but dense enough to serve its cookie-esque function. Plus, it wasn’t dry. I say “wasn’t dry” instead of “moist” on purpose. While the cake was not dry, it was just a smidge away from being on the wrong side of the moist/dry line.

Another reviewer has declared EW’s whoopie pie to be the best. Because we have not sampled all the whoopie pies within our jurisdiction, I cannot say whether EW’s (SLB’s, really) version is in fact the best over all other efforts. All I can say is that it was good.

AFFIRMED in part and REMANDED in part to Eat Wonky for revision.

Many years ago now, a decade or more, on a cold, misty day, in a squat diner on a forlorn stretch of highway in Clare, Nova Scotia, in the heart of Acadia, I first tasted poutine, that iconically French Canadian conglomeration of crisp fries, fresh curds, and savory gravy. The concoction passed my lips, caressed my palate, and I stopped, mid-chew, fork suspended in the space between the plate and my mouth. “An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, something isolated, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory . . . I had ceased now to feel mediocre, contingent, mortal.” Marcel Proust, 1 Remembrance of Things Past 48 (C.K. Scott Moncrieff & Terence Kilmartin trans. 1913). Though entirely new to me, there was something immediately familiar about poutine. Universal comfort food, I suppose.

Clare, Nova Scotia

Several years would pass before I once more crossed into Francophone Canada and poutine again graced my palate, this time on a crisp mid-May day at a gray stone structure on the Rue de la Commune along the Saint Lawrence in Vieux-Montréal. Again, the same sensation I had felt in Clare rumbled through my bones like some icy breeze off the Bay of Fundy. With each crunch of fry, with each cognizance of duck fat, with each squeak of cheese curd, and with each taste of beef gravy, the vicissitudes of life once more became indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory. At that particular moment, a moment of seemingly infinite proportions, my world was little more than a basket of moistened fries, a plastic fork, a picnic table, a park, and a crisp mid-May day along the Saint Lawrence in Vieux-Montréal.

Vieux-Montréal

O, gentle reader, excuse, if you will, my descent into gonzo judging. As I have said before, we should strive for something higher, for objectivity, in the pages of these reports. See In re DC Empanadas, 1 Catt. 3 (2011). But even the least partial of judges must at times, of necessity, take judicial notice of those things and happy incidents that comprise the substance of his memory.

We granted cartiorari in this case to review Eat Wonky (“EW”), a “mobile gastronomic enterprise” purveying, inter alia, Wonky Fries™, also smartly denominated “ ‘Poutine’! ” [sic] to appeal to those of us who have trekked to the Great White North and fallen under her spell. (The exclamation point, often a gauche and maladroit addition, is here warranted. Poutine!, indeed!) Finally finding a dish called “Poutine!” south of the Canadian Shield, we could not help but grant cartiorari. (We also granted cartiorari to review EW’s whoopie pie, which analysis I leave for my sister to review in a companion case.)

EW describes its Wonky Fries™ ($5.50) as “natural cut French fries [cooked in peanut oil] topped with squeaky cheese and gravy.” (I would have preferred duck fat to peanut oil, see Metro Halal Food v. Tasty Kabob, 1 Catt. 2 (2011) (Jeremy, C.J., concurring), but that can be forgiven. My duck truck awaits its eager entrepreneur.) In such a case, it is perhaps best to address each component individually before proceeding to assess the whole. Cf. In re TaKorean, 1 Catt. 4 (2011).

Wonky Fries (Poutine)

French Fries. Excellent. The fries were fresh and hot and crisp with a pillowy center. They were not overly greasy, like the fries of other hyped merchants. They held up admirably against the curds and the gravy, which is a feat of gastronomic engineering in its own right.

Cheese Curds (“Squeaky Cheese”). Mediocre. Fresh cheese curds squeak against one’s teeth upon biting into them, producing a sound akin to “balloons trying to neck.” Louisa Kamps, Cheese Curds, N.Y. TIMES MAG., Oct. 17, 2004. While tasty nonetheless, EW’s squeaky cheese lacked squeak. The balloons must have gone their separate ways. A non-squeaky curd is, to borrow from the world of kennel clubs, a major fault. I have come to demand squeak from my cheese curds.

Gravy. Good. EW makes a respectable brown gravy. Beefy, if I’m not mistaken, with the possible addition of an herb or two. While thinner than I might have expected from a dish born of diners, it passes sufficient muster for my taste.

The verdict: Decent. By no means a lunch unto itself, EW’s Wonky Fries™ make a fair snack or a hefty accoutrement. While tasty, this is no Québecois or Acadian poutine. Evangéline would only faintly recognize it. Jean Poutine may question the association. But it is passable and even enjoyable. Like so many memories cultivated in one’s travels, it may not be past poutines with which I am comparing EW’s Wonky Fries™, but rather the experiences surrounding them. No food truck, not even the best of them, can compare with that.

AFFIRMED in part and REMANDED in part to Eat Wonky for revision.

CATTLEYA, J., dissenting.

I agree with the Cart’s analysis of EW’s Wonky Fries™, but because the Cart reaches the wrong result, I dissent. True, the fries were “hot and crisp.” But the cheese curds “lacked squeak” and the gravy was “thin[].” How the Cart manages to affirm EW’s squeakless curds and thin gravy shows a logical jump that sound reasoning simply cannot support. This was my first taste of poutine, and I have no wish to try EW’s version again. I am grateful that I don’t have the memories of exquisite poutines past to impair my taste buds and cloud my judgment. I would remand the dish to EW for revision. Do it right, or don’t do it at all.

We granted cartiorari to review El Floridano (“EF”), a “mobile gastronomic enterprise” purveying two preparations: (1) pan con lechón (“Cuban pulled pork w[ith] grilled onions [and] spicy guava sauce”), and (2) a similar preparation of tempeh. Naturally, we opted for the former. Cf. In re Red Hook Lobster Pound, 2 Catt. 1 (2011). To quote Red Hook with some modification, “no one in their right mind orders [tempeh] over [pork].” See id. (A vegetarian, you might say, but I then refer you to my previous statement.)

As I have stated before, half of my roots sprout, at least for the last century, from the fertile peanut-, cotton-, and tobacco-strewn fields of “the northern fringes of pulled pork’s heartland.” In re DC Empanadas, 1 Catt. 3 (2011). But, as I have also stated, “I was raised to never order the pulled pork.” Id. “My pork barbeque was to be sliced. Outside cut, to be precise, in all its charred crispiness.” Id. Not that I was led to wholly doubt the quality or authenticity of pulled pork per se, but it’s safe to say a certain healthy suspicion was instilled in me. But one doesn’t leave Calle Ocho without a strong appetite for Cuban cuisine, so I brushed aside that suspicion, stepped up to EF, and ordered a pan con lechón.

El Floridano

In truth, even before reviewing the menu, I had already decided EF was worth trying, because it is physically so unembellished: the plain white of the truck is left alone, and the words “PAN CON LECHON” are crudely painted on its side from a stencil. In my own experience, the best food comes from the least adorned, even spartan, establishments. (If it also features terrible service and yet still attracts crowds, you’ve found a gem. Consider Chinatown Express and its unbelievable noodles.) Mediocre food can easily hide behind hype and slick graphics. See In re TaKorean, 1 Catt. 4 (2011). Mediocrity is more obvious when the mask is removed. EF has no mask to hide behind, and its food shines.

The pork is very simply roasted. That simplicity is appreciated. See Red Hook, 2 Catt. 1. EF does a good thing well. They are clearly comfortable with their signature dish. No insecurities lead to superfluous gilding.

Pan con Lechón

The pulled pork itself is less pulled than I would have imagined. (A good thing, I say.) Texturally, it is closer to the sliced pork I prefer, with pieces of tender fat left in. (But not so much that it becomes a fat sandwich). There are even a few pieces of outside cut crispiness to sate my fancy. The meat is moist and, without significant seasoning, flavorful. Slices of grilled onion are strewn throughout. As for quantity, an impressive amount of meat is packed into the sub roll; at $7, the dish seemed appropriately priced.

A drizzle of “spicy guava sauce” is added to the top. (Enough to flavor the meat, without drowning it out.) I tend to view fruit-based sauces with some distrust. Not that a fruit-based sauce can’t be executed well, but they often are not. In my experience, a pineapple or mango salsa generally presages dark and terrible things. Usually unsuccessful fusion. But EF’s guava sauce did not taste overpoweringly of guava. There was a slight sweetness, balanced by significant spice. It tasted something like Barbadian hot pepper sauce.

EF concentrates on technique. It executes its signature dish well, without hiding faulty technique behind overpowering, prepackaged flavors and trendy frills. Cf. TaKorean, 1 Catt. 4. For the reasons stated in this opinion, this case is

AFFIRMED.

(I must address a sole inaccuracy in my sister’s concurrence. She writes that she “did not experience [her] first taste of the real thing . . . until [she] was old enough to drive to eating establishments of [her] own choosing.” In re El Floridano, 2 Catt. 2 (2011) (Cattleya, J., concurring) (emphasis added). Anyone who knows my fellow Justice knows that she does not “drive” to eating establishments of her own choosing. Walk, perhaps. Employ public transit, perhaps. Bum a ride, more likely. But drive? No. I advise my sister to strive for greater precision in her opinions for this Cart.)

CATTLEYA, J., concurring.

I concur with the Cart’s well-reasoned opinion. I write separately to stress that EF’s pan con lechón also appeals to one who was not raised in a household with so many rules about pork barbeque. In fact, there was only one rule in my house: Don’t eat pork.

Due to my father’s religious restriction on the eating of pork, my mother never cooked it, even though her own religious denomination did not share the restriction. I grew up thinking that turkey bacon was actually bacon, and I did not experience my first taste of the real thing (crispy, greasy, and delicious) until I was old enough to drive to eating establishments of my own choosing. But by then, I had gotten so used to the taste of turkey that pork (chops, spare ribs, etc.) wasn’t enjoyable. Bacon was the only pig product that gave me joy. (Of course, I felt bad for eating it in front of my father. I still do. Even today, if bacon (mistakenly) ends up as a side on my breakfast plate, I put on my best dumbfounded look. “What?” I say in an astonished tone. “You mean, this is pork?” I add an indignant huff for good measure.)

So, like my brother, I don’t usually order pulled pork, but for entirely different reasons. I just don’t expect it to taste good. But EF’s lechón was tender and tasty. Tastier than I ever imagined it could be. I look forward to being lured in for a second helping. Just, please, don’t tell my father.

(Daddy, if you’re reading this, the consumption of pork occurred for the highest purposes of a full and fair adjudication. To the Chief Justice, I add that you ought to remember that there was a period of two years–from the ages of 16 to 18–when I was able to maneuver a vehicle, on paper and in practice. It is that time to which I refer. I concede that, today, I do indeed “bum . . . ride[s]” to eating establishments too far from the orange line.)

We granted cartiorari in this case to review DC Empanadas. Today, we review three separate empanadas: (1) the Weapon of Max Deliciousness, (2) the Speedy Gonzalez, and (3) the Divine Swine. After certain general, introductory remarks, I consider the three empanadas in Parts I, II, and III below.

DC Empanadas

At $3.50 per empanada (or $9 for three), this truck is a good deal, with prices comparable to those at brick-and-mortar staple Julia’s. Good luck finding a better-priced lunch along K Street. The empanadas are just the right size: not so big that the crust is overwhelmed, not so small that you’re left wanting more. Three empanadas is certainly more than enough for lunch (which isn’t to say you couldn’t eat more).

The crust was somewhere midway between crispy and flaky. Its hue was perfectly golden. It held up to its fillings. Reviewers elsewhere have accused the empanadas of being overly greasy, but even after a metro ride back to my chambers, there was no sign of grease.

(On a side note, the names given the empanadas are not to my liking. Read: Cheesy empanadas very good, cheesy names not so good. Except for Salmon Rushdie. That’s genius, I say.)

Overall, I’d recommend DC Empanadas. I’ll return for more. I’d advise you do the same. If you do, tell ’em Supreme Cart sent you.

I

The Weapon of Max Deliciousness (“WMD”), as its name implies, contains “beef chili, beans and cheddar cheese.” Of the three empanadas sampled, this was the best. The chili was well-cooked (retaining a fair degree of moistness) and well-seasoned (I detected more than a hint of cumin, unless my spice-o-meter was off). It gave off a subtle heat that built after swallowing but never overwhelmed the palate. The crust held up admirably to the hot liquid of the chili. The verdict: Highly recommended, especially when paired with a Speedy Gonzalez (see below).

II

The Speedy Gonzalez (“SG”) is a “mild cheese empanada filled with queso blanco, asadero cheese & mozzarella cheese.” (Vegetarians, please know that no mouse or other rodent was harmed in the making of this empanada.) The blend of cheeses was mellow, but flavorful, and lent the empanada a pleasing texture. (As you’ll discover, dear reader, my sister is much concerned with mouthfeel.) By the time I ate the empanada, it had the taste and a chewiness of a deep-fried, encrusted, non-flambéed saganaki (that is to say, a bit of deep-fried, encrusted, kefalograviera or kasseri or haloumi or other euphonic and delectable Eastern Mediterranean cheesestuff). This was likely the work of the asadero, Oaxaca’s second greatest gift to the world. The verdict: Highly recommended, especially when paired with a WMD, the two of which complement each other swimmingly.

III

The Divine Swine (“DS”) — a special the day I tasted it — contained “slow roasted hand-pulled pork tossed in No. 5 BBQ sauce from BBQ Bus,” another “mobile gastronomic enterprise” to be reviewed another day. Raised on the output of the northern fringes of pulled pork’s heartland, I approached this particular empanada with certain high standards. (Though, in the interest of full disclosure, I should note that I was raised to never order the pulled pork. My pork barbeque was to be sliced. Outside cut, to be precise, in all its charred crispiness.)

I did polish off this particular pig, which is not always the case. See In re CapMac, 1 Catt. 1 (2011) (“I just wish I had wanted to eat it all.”). But it was not nearly as enjoyable an empanada as the WMD and the SG. While the crust was again commendable, the pork itself was a monochromatic sweet. It had no other notes, no depth, no balance of flavors. It had none of that vinegary tang my upbringing has lead me to demand and expect. In the words of a Top Chef judge (Padma, I believe), the dish “cried out for acidity.” The verdict: Pass. One more reason ordering a “special” is often best avoided, like ordering fish on Monday or shepherd’s pie at all. (In time, dear reader, you may come to learn of my especial aversion to shepherd’s pie.)

Weapon of Max Deliciousness, Speedy Gonzalez, and Divine Swine

Finally, I must address my sister’s points. Firstly, although she be entitled to her opinion regarding orange cheese, she has laid to rest any lingering suspicion that my own strong predilection toward lamb must of necessity have required my recusal in a prior proceeding. See Metro Halal Food v. Tasty Kabob, 1 Catt. 2 (2011) (Jeremy, C.J., concurring in part). Secondly, I decline to heed my sister’s advice that I embrace what she deems “plain English.” What does and does not constitute plain English lies in the eye of the beholder — the height of subjectivity. We of the Supreme Cart should strive for nothing higher than objectivity, plain and simple. Fret not, dear reader, for I do, in fact, choose my words with great care. Unlike my sister, I see no evil in a thesaurus.

AFFIRMED in part and REMANDED in part to DC Empanadas for revision.

CATTLEYA, J., concurring in part and dissenting in part.

I join all but Part II of the Cart’s opinion. Although the Speedy Gonzalez was not bad, it would have been better if the cheese filling had been orange in color. That is all.

Now, I must take this moment to urge my brother to read Plain English for Lawyers, a guide that teaches one how to write in, well, plain English. In particular, my brother would benefit from the section in Chapter Seven entitled “Use Familiar Words.” Does the Chief Justice not think that his “dear reader” would enjoy getting through his opinion without needing to dig out a dictionary? For example, is “euphonic” the wisest word choice when “sweet-sounding” could do? Is “delectable” necessary when “delicious” is more familiar? I think not. Perhaps the Chief Justice should choose his words with more care, unless, of course, he wants his opinions to reek of pretentiousness.

I must begin with a very distasteful matter — one that relates not to the parties to this proceeding, but to the Chief Justice. My brother’s love for lamb is so severe that he undoubtedly has an interest in shaping the future landscape of lamb cuisine. For this reason, he cannot offer an impartial palate, and I call upon him to recuse himself from this proceeding.

Arlingtonians have begun to wonder whether Metro Halal Food or Tasty Kabob is the superior purveyor of lamb gyros. Located across from the mall at the corner of Wilson Boulevard and N. Stuart Street, Metro Halal Food is a fixture in the Ballston neighborhood. Tasty Kabob has recently set up a cart (not one of its trucks) on Fairfax Drive, right on the doorstep of George Mason University’s campus in Virginia Square. Both offer a lamb gyro (though Metro Halal Food calls it a Gyro on Pita). Here’s how the two compared:

Metro Halal Food’s Gyro on Pita  

Regularly outside the Ballston Common Mall

Good-sized serving of meat

Cubed chunks of lamb, flavorful but dry

Lettuce/tomato = fillers

Pita was the opposite of soft

Good tzatziki sauce

Hot sauce that’s hot

$4.99 posted price ($5 actually charged)

Cash only

Tasty Kabob’s Lamb Gyro

Tasty Kabob’s Lamb Gyro

Sometimes at GMU’s Arlington Campus

Very generous serving of meat

Tasty gyro meat, except chunks not slices

Lettuce/tomato = garnishes

Soft pita

Good tzatziki sauce

Medium-heat hot sauce

$5.99 posted price ($6 actually charged)

Cash or credit card

Bottom line: Tasty Kabob’s lamb gyro wins on taste. If you’re willing to risk the chance of walking over to an empty sidewalk spot, then head to Virginia Square to see whether Tasty Kabob’s cart is there. (Unfortunately, unlike its trucks, Tasty Kabob doesn’t advertise the location of this cart.) However, if you want a guaranteed (and cheaper) lunch, go to Metro Halal Food in Ballston.

*Update. As of February 2012, Tasty Kabob no longer operates the cart on GMU’s Arlington Campus.

JEREMY, C.J., concurring in the result and the opinion, save for its first paragraph.

While I concur, generally, in my sister’s opinion, her beginning, concerning a certain “distasteful matter” necessitates my response. It has been suggested that my “severe” love for lamb results in an “impartial palate,” for which I am “call[ed] upon . . . to recuse [my]self from this proceeding.” I respectfully decline to do so.

To be sure, my love for lamb is immense. But a truth my sister conveniently neglects to mention is that lamb ranks only second in my hierarchy of preferred proteins. Well behind duck, in fact, for which my love and admiration is indeed “severe.” A “duck truck,” with which we are not today confronted, would present a far better case for my colleague’s argument, though even in such a case I would decline to recuse myself. (A brief request of our readership: Please open a duck truck, or encourage capable others to do so.)

More importantly, though, I call upon my sister to imagine the precedent to be created were I to recuse myself in this case. Her own “severe” penchant for orange cheese, for Cheez-Its, and for all other artificially-orange foodstuffs is well documented. And yet, she has (with my own blessing, I note, and with the blessings of both justice and impartiality) not yet twenty-four hours ago reviewed CapMac’s Classic CapMac’n Cheese, which featured not only orange-colored cheese, but a certain “brilliant” Cheez-It crumble. I can conclude only that my sister’s accusation of an “impartial palate” is wielded here as a mere political tool, out of place in a solemn legal proceeding such as this.

I would also like to take this opportunity to recommend Ravi Kabob, in close proximity to Ballston and Virginia Square. While not a “mobile gastronomic enterprise,” and thus outside the jurisdiction of this Supreme Cart, the proprietors of that establishment do awe-inspiring things with lamb which my “impartial palate” cannot help but mention.

Very few foods can tempt me outside into the rain on a day that I’ve forgotten to wear my wellies. Mac & cheese makes the list. Unfortunately, CapMac’s Classic CapMac’n Cheese wasn’t worth the resulting wet shoes.

CapMac

CapMac’s signature dish held a lot of promise. It wasn’t just mac & cheese; it was mac & cheese with a Cheez-It crumble. I read the menu and thought, “Hey, why didn’t I think of that? That’s brilliant!” And it was. But the Cheez-It crumble wasn’t enough to save the rest of the dish.

The problem with Classic CapMac’n Cheese was not the mac, but the cheese. Although the cheddar and pimento cheese sauce had a nice, thick consistency, it had a sour taste. So sour, in fact, that I didn’t want to finish my meal. I typically clean off my plate (as well as the plates of my fellow diners), so when I leave food behind, it’s saying something.

That being said, the mac was prepared well. Not too soft, and just enough chew to it. Perhaps CapMac’s mac would be more successful with a different sauce.

Classic CapMac’n Cheese

Bottom line: CapMac served up a heaping portion of its Classic CapMac’n Cheese for a reasonable $6 (cash only). I just wish I had wanted to eat it all.

REMANDED to CapMac for revision.