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.

Kohinoor Dhaba began (and still is) a brick and mortar restaurant in the Crystal City neighborhood of Virginia. During my penny-pinching days right after law school, I was a regular for the nondescript restaurant’s less-than-$10 buffet. Kohinoor Dhaba was the kind of dive that I missed most after leaving New York City and moving to Virginia. More than a time or two, I found myself seated on Kohinoor Dhaba’s worn banquet chair, a plastic knife and fork at the ready, looming over Styrofoam plates full of chicken tandoori, chick peas, and naan.

Kohinoor Dhaba

When I first saw a bright orange food truck called Kohinoor Dhaba, I didn’t immediately connect it to the Crystal City restaurant. But as soon as I made the connection, nostalgia drove me to the truck’s ordering window.

India is famous (or infamous, if you ask the wrong person) for its street food. Without fail my mouth waters at the thought of handheld bites like pani puri, a delicate, golf-ball-sized fried shell filled with chick peas, onions, and flavored water. The menu for the Kohinoor Dhaba food truck, unfortunately, lacked the best offerings of Indian street vendors and very much resembled its brick and mortar menu.

With the choice of restaurant food from the truck, I opted for the $10 lamb biryani – lamb “sautéed in herbs & mild spices with fragrant rice.” The biryani came with a salad of greens and a tomato slice, plus two containers of yogurt sauce.

Lamb Biryani

The biryani was flavorful. The lamb was tender, and the long grain rice was fluffy and well spiced. When the dish reached the peak of a slow-building heat, the yogurt cut it and offered some coolness, as well as freshness with its specks of mint and cilantro.

There was nothing wrong with Kohinoor Dhaba’s lamb biryani. It was tasty and filling. Would I order it from the restaurant? Yes. Would I order it again from the truck?

That’s a very different question. No. While the biryani was perfectly fine, it was not exciting enough (or, frankly, cheap enough) to inspire a return visit to the truck.

A huge serving of rice is just not my idea of street food. This court has 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). Biryani does not meet this definition. For one, the dish can only be reheated, not cooked, in front of you. Biryani is a time-intensive dish. Another Arlington restaurant needs advance notice from the customer and four hours to prepare it.

But this court’s street food determination does not end there. In In re Hot People Food, 6 Catt. 4 (2012), we added another layer. We explained that our definition was intended to be a “multifactor test to guide and direct our analysis.” An additional factor not mentioned in the original definition was whether the dish was traditionally considered to be street food. Guided by this factor, biryani might qualify as street food by this court.

Our street food analysis continued further. As explained in In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012), the “street food” question was a threshold matter to determine the burden of proof in a case before the Supreme Cart. A presumption of affirmance arose for true street food. On the other hand, if a dish did not qualify as street food, no presumption arose, and the dish was required to prove its own merits. Kohinoor Dhaba’s biryani, a solid execution that suffered from no major flaws, would pass this test whether or not it was found to be street food.

Is this the correct result when the Justice admits that she would not return to Kohinoor Dhaba’s truck for a second helping of lamb biryani? Of course not. It cannot be. A test that leads to such results must be flawed and unusable. It has become clear that our burden of proof framework for street food has no place.

Kohinoor Dhaba’s lamb biryani is better suited for its sit-down restaurant, not its food truck. I am sad to say that the food truck scene has become an uninspired mobile food court that has very little to do with street food and more to do with quick-service restaurant food. What else can be concluded when TGI Fridays and Starbucks have entered the food truck business? Food trucks that offer brick and mortar menus (and yes, at restaurant prices) have failed the promise of street food.

I will not attempt to describe the type of food truck or type of menu that would reach the heights of street food’s full potential, but I will know it when I see it. Cf. Jacobellis v. Ohio, 378 U.S. 184 (1964) (Stewart, J., concurring). Kohinoor Dhaba’s lamb biryani isn’t it.

AFFIRMED in part and REMANDED in part to Kohinoor Dhaba for revision. 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.

Phonation

Opinion of JUSTICE CATTLEYA, in chambers.

From across Farragut Square, Phonation’s truck—painted white with blue signage—slightly resembled a classic ice cream truck. I was surprised when I got close enough to read the truck’s name and see its menu of Vietnamese pho and bánh mì. My surprise, however, was quickly forgotten as I began to picture in my mind’s eye a beautiful bánh mì sandwich.

Phonation’s picture menu.

(This was not difficult to do at the instigation of Phonation’s menu, which included large, color photos.)

Phonation describes itself as “the real deal on wheels with fast serving, delicious PHO and gigantic BANH MI.” Pho may be ordered with either chicken or beef, and the available bánh mì sandwich fillings are BBQ chicken or BBQ pork. All entrée items are $9.

I ordered the BBQ pork bánh mì. Because a bánh mì sandwich is “street food” under the Supreme Cart’s case law, e.g., In re Lemongrass, 7 Catt. 1 (2012) (holding that a bánh mì is street food); In re BONMi, 25 Catt. 2 (2013) (same); In re PhoWheels, 24 Catt. 1 (2013) (same), my review must assume that Phonation’s sandwich should be affirmed unless it suffers from a significant flaw. 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). Phonation’s bánh mì sandwich suffers from no such fatal flaw. It is a solid rendition.

BBQ Pork Bánh Mì

Pork. While I typically prefer grilled pork in my bánh mì sandwiches, Phonation’s heavily sauced pork was tender and flavorful. But as the sauce was still on my tongue several hours later, it was almost too flavorful.

Toppings. The toppings included a slice of cucumber, thickly cut radish and carrot, plus cilantro. The toppings did their job of adding freshness and crunch to the sandwich. The freshness was cut a little by the richness of the mayo. I normally don’t like mayo on my bánh mì sandwiches, but it worked here by balancing out the strong sauce on the meat. The sandwich was finished off with some heat from thinly sliced jalapenos (and Sriracha, which I requested).

Bread. The choice of bread was good, but not perfect. The bread had the requisite softness inside and crustiness outside, but it seemed more like an Italian sub roll than a French baguette.

Sandwich cut in half.

Bottom line: Phonation’s BBQ pork bánh mì sandwich wasn’t the best I’ve had, but it certainly wasn’t the worst either. While the heavy sauce on the pork, inclusion of mayo, and sub-like bread wouldn’t be part of my dream bánh mì, Phonation nonetheless served up a tasty lunch.

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.

The bottom line up front: Korean BBQ Taco Box (“KBBQTB”) is a food truck for people who look for variety and big portions, but not necessarily authenticity, in a meal.

Korean BBQ Taco Box

KBBQTB’s fusion menu features box lunches made of five different components. The first is the meat: Korean fried chicken, bulgogi, spicy pork, or chicken teriyaki. All four meats may be ordered over white rice. The last three may also be served in a flour tortilla taco. The second component of the box is a salad with ginger dressing. Third is a spicy chicken wing. Fourth is a fried cheese roll. A varying Korean-influenced bite, such as another roll or a dumpling, completes the box. Boxes range between $8 and $10.

I opted for a rice box with Korean fried chicken. In addition to the salad, chicken wing, and fried cheese roll that come with all boxes, the final Korean-influenced side in the box on the day of my visit was a kimchi dumpling.

As it is well settled by this reviewing court that rice-based platters are not street food (i.e., food that can be cooked in front of you and is meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up), KBBQTB’s box must prove the quality of its offerings without the aid of any presumption that it should be upheld as street-service-worthy. See In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011) (defining street food); In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012) (discussing burden of proof); see, e.g., In re NY Famous Kabob, 7 Catt. 3 (2012) (denying street food status to a platter of meat over rice); In re Mediterranean Delights, 20 Catt. 2 (2013) (same). The merits of the separate components of KBBQTB’s box are addressed below.

Rice Box with Korean Fried Chicken

Korean Fried Chicken and Rice. A fillet of chicken battered and fried, then cut into easy-to-eat strips. While KBBQTB’s version was crispy (surprisingly so, given that it was trapped in a Styrofoam container while I walked back to the court), don’t expect Bonchon’s extra-crunchy Korean double fried chicken. The meat was not dry; neither was it juicy. But no matter, as the chicken strips were covered with generous drizzles of spicy mayo and sweet teriyaki sauces. The paired white rice was fluffy and sticky, just the way I have always liked it. The meal’s greatest indulgence was mixing the excess mayo and teriyaki sauces into the rice. Given my confession of my favorite meal as a child—white rice smothered with another condiment (ketchup)—this should not be surprising.

Salad with Ginger Dressing. A basic salad of iceberg lettuce. The dressing was not shy on the ginger, and the overall effect was wonderfully fresh and biting. However, the consistency of the dressing was too thick. While salad dressing should be thick enough to stick to the greens, it should still be liquid enough to toss with the greens.

Spicy Chicken Wing. Fried chicken wing (or drumstick) tossed in KBBQTB’s spicy sauce. Well-executed. The skin was crispy, and the chicken was moist. The sauce coating the wing was a nice balance of sweet and spicy. Boxes are supposed to come with one wing, but somehow I got two. Normally I frown upon such inconsistency, but in this case, lucky me.

Fried Cheese Roll. KBBQTB boxes come with two pieces of a fried cheese roll that is topped with a spicy mayo sauce. Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell that cheese was an ingredient in this dish. To me, this just tasted like fried batter covered in a sweet, creamy mayo.

Kimchi Dumpling. A fried, rectangular-shaped packet filled with kimchi. A nice little bite, but the ratio of dumpling skin to kimchi should have weighed in favor of more kimchi. Because, really, the answer to everything is more kimchi.

The bottom line, repeated: A lot of food. Several different items to please a palate that gets bored from one dish. While not terribly authentic or creative, KBBQTB’s Korean fried chicken rice box sticks close to a tried-and-true strategy: the more fried food, and the more mayo, the better. While your arteries might complain, are you really going to?

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered. 

Several months ago, I made a sua sponte appearance at PhoWheels for bánh mì. I was pleasantly surprised by the truck’s tofu bánh mì on a baguette, but disappointed by the pork belly bánh mì on a doughnut. See In re PhoWheels, 24 Catt. 1 (2013). After the decision was announced, PhoWheels participated in general commenting per the Supreme Cart’s Rule of Procedure 2-7.

Comment from PhoWheels

“Come back & try the tacos,” PhoWheels said of their menu item that apparently always sells out. After returning to try the musubi tacos, I not only believe this claim; I completely understand why.

PhoWheels’s regular menu offers tacos with the same fillings that one can get on a bánh mì (tofu, pork belly, or chicken). A fourth option (musubi) can be found on the menu as a special. Normally I never order so-called “specials.” See In re DC Empanadas, 1 Catt. 3 (2011) (expressing skepticism of specials). But PhoWheels has been serving musubi tacos off and on since August of last year, so the dish doesn’t feel like an experiment gone awry or like old ingredients in a poor disguise. With no alarm bells ringing in my head, I ordered the musubi tacos. An order of two was $9.

Musubi Tacos

What is a musubi taco exactly? PhoWheels takes a piece of roti canai (Malaysian flatbread) and wraps it around cubed spam, thin slices of Chinese sausage, pickled radishes and carrots, and rice, and then tops it all off with nori, wasabi sesame seeds, and a generous drizzle of Kewpie mayo.

The regular reader knows by now that fusion dishes more often than not confuse me. See, e.g., In re TaKorean, 1 Catt. 4 (2011). But finally (finally!) I have found the complete opposite of fusion confusion. Even without the Supreme Cart’s presumption of affirmance for street food like tacos, I would enthusiastically affirm. See In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011) (defining street food); In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012) (discussing burden of proof); In re District Taco, 21 Catt. 2 (2013) (finding tacos to be street food). PhoWheels’s musubi taco was the most unique, cohesive, and balanced fusion dish that I have ever encountered as a Justice of mobile gastronomy.

The vehicle holding everything together—the Malaysian flatbread—was divine. It was buttery and flaky. On the inside, it was fluffy and chewy. The composition reminded me of a beautifully thick and chewy Chinese dumpling wrapper, but with a slightly crisp exterior. Its malleability allowed it to snugly envelop the taco filling, making something that very easily could have been messy to eat, not messy at all.

The filling was an explosion of sweet (from the Chinese sausage), tangy (from the pickled radishes and carrots), spicy (from the wasabi sesame seeds), and salty (from the spam and nori). It was a mix of soft and warm (rice), and cold and crunchy (pickled radishes and carrots). And the rich and creamy Kewpie mayo was the cherry on top.

Interestingly–and this is going to sound like a bad thing–the meats (spam and Chinese sausage) were not the stars here. They were overpowered by the nori and wasabi sesame seeds. One might think that the proper response to this would be to increase the portions of spam and Chinese sausage in the taco, but I’m not sure that this would be right. I so enjoyed the salty and earthy flavors of the nori and wasabi that I just didn’t care about the individual contributions of the spam and Chinese sausage. However, what I would change is PhoWheels’s preparation of the spam. I found the cubed pieces of spam to be very soft, and I would have preferred it if they had been fried until crispy.

Overall, PhoWheels’s musubi taco was bold and inspired. Must try? I think so. Would I return for it again? I already have. I would consider this to be PhoWheels’s signature dish, and if I had a vote in the matter, I’d promote this from the specials menu to the regular menu ASAP.

AFFIRMED. 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.

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.

There’s nothing quite like pho on a cold day.

Of course, the day I happened upon Pho-Bachi, it wasn’t a cold day at all. Far from it. The sun was shining bright, the sky was a brilliant blue, and a particularly feisty yellow jacket was hell-bent on destroying my lunch hour.

Luckily there’s nothing quite like pho on a hot day either.

Pho-Bachi, the mobile gastronomic enterprise.

Pho-Bachi is a mobile gastronomic enterprise which, as the name suggests, serves pho (chicken or steak) and hibachi (chicken, steak, and shrimp).

Fusion again. We’ve voiced time and time again our hesitance with regard to fusion. I hesitated again a moment. But I remembered that pho itself is the result of either French-Indonchinese or Chinese-Indochinese culinary interaction, so I can’t so easily look askance at the truck’s fusion of Japanese and Vietnamese flavors. Besides, the two flavors aren’t really fused at all; they’re simply both sold from the same truck.

Faced with the choice of hibachi or pho, I opted for the latter because, as I’ve said, there’s nothing quite like pho on a hot day either. Hot soup cools you down, right? Right. And it was a fairly hot day, otherwise pleasant, just marred by that goddamn yellow jacket.

Between chicken and steak, I opted for steak. Sure, sure, there’s pho ga; even Così is trying to get in on that game. (It’s a now-removed “Italian” soup with the faintest hint of lemongrass.) But my go-to pho concoction is always a laundry list of various cow parts—eye-of-round, flank, brisket, down to beef tendon and Bible tripe—though I’m always wary of a cut called “cow something” I once spied on a sign listing every cut imaginable, at a wholesale vendor in the older, less Bethesda-ized part of the Florida Avenue/Union Market.

Really, Così?

Funny story: I once took some friends to an otherwise generic place on H Street in Chinatown to taste a surprisingly delicious beef omasum I had very much enjoyed on a previous visit. (Ok, fine, sometimes I “ennoble[] certain ingredients precisely because most people thing they are gross.” So I ordered Rocky Mountain oysters at a ticky-tacky place in Denver covered in animal heads. Whatever. You do it too.) I ordered the beef omasa, but got only a blank stare in return. I said it again, “you know, beef omasa,” and was told I wouldn’t like it. I insisted I’d had it before, in that very establishment, and had very much enjoyed it and would like to try it again and share it with my friends. “We’re out,” I was told, but that smelled fishy. I persisted. But by that time my waiter had made the executive decision to remove it from the menu. Fourth time is clearly not the charm.

Ok, so maybe that wasn’t all that funny.

But I digress. Especially since Pho-Bachi doesn’t come close to offering tripe. Bible.

Pho from Pho-Bachi.

An order of beef pho did come with fat brisket and flank, though. The brisket was a beautiful medium, while the flank was a bit more well-done, as expected. Both were fresh, well prepared, and delicious, and came swimming in a lovely, heady broth perfumed with star anise and clove and onion and filled with a heavy helping of vermicelli, bean sprouts, Thai basil, and hot peppers. With it came tiny containers of hoisin and Sriracha, the perfect amounts for flavoring the already flavorful broth.

Even though pho is traditionally a street food in Vietnam, I was suspicious as to how well it would translate to the American street. This is clearly not eat-as-you-walk food, as you might do with a sandwich or a half smoke or a dosa. In Vietnam, it is often served at a stall with seats and a table. Back on this side of the Pacific, Pho-Bachi gives you a to-go container—and a rather sizeable one at that (you won’t go hungry)—and sends you on your way, cradling your large container of steaming hot liquid as you would a feverish newborn, in search of a vacant park bench or the confines of a drab break room.

But Pho-Bachi surprised me. The pho actually transported quite well. There was no scalding, no stained Oxford, and, aside from that goddamn yellow jacket, no real trouble at all.

Brisket. Pretty, right?

Was Pho-Bachi the very best pho I’ve ever tasted? No, probably not. It’s hard to compete with the Eden Center. But it was actually a good pho, a very good one I’d say, better and more satisfying than some I’ve had in some restaurants. (I’d say it’s better than Pho DC in Chinatown, certainly, but I wasn’t terribly impressed by that establishment.)

I’d give Pho-Bachi 3 out of 4 stars. But since we don’t actually award stars here at Supreme Cart, I’ll say instead that it’s

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

The day before the government shutdown was bright and warm and sunny, which clashed with the frenzied chill of those midnight hours. But with the Cart’s funding in jeopardy, my clerk and I nevertheless stumbled down to Farragut Square to grant cartiorari to BONMi, a bright green mobile gastronomic enterprise which, at least on the day in question, offered (1) garlic soy sauce chicken ($8), (2) five spice chicken ($8), (3) pulled pork ($10), (4) chili garlic tofu ($8), (5) 18 hour beef ($10), and (6) seasonal veggie ($8), each served on “a toasted Vietnamese baguette” and topped with “Sriracha lime sauce” and cucumbers, pickled vegetables, and cilantro.

BONMi

My clerk and I opted for the 18-hour beef, primarily because—whether in actuality or by purely psychosomatic means—food that takes a long time to produce tends to taste better. (Case in point: Michel Richard’s 72-hour short ribs served some time ago at the superb Garden Café in the West Building of the National Gallery.) Because a banh mi sandwich is clearly “street food,” it is subject to a presumption of affirmance absent some fatal flaw. In re Lemongrass, 7 Catt. 1 (2012) (citing In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012)).

BONMi Menu

As BONMi’s website suggests, the 18-hour beef is brisket. The brisket is rather good. So good, in fact, it tasted almost like my grandmother’s pot roast, which is to say more Eastern European than Vietnamese and conjured up dissonant images of shtetls and pushcarts. Of course my ancestors can claim no strict monopoly on this particular preparation of brisket, so I’ll let that one go. As far as pot roast goes, BONMi makes a decent pot roast. I appreciate that the fat, rendered almost to jelly, was left in, which made for a particularly rich sandwich.

The bread, unfortunately, suffered from the same authenticity problem. Maybe it was the way it sopped up the juices running out from the pot roast, but the bread read to my palate as a hoagie roll. Which isn’t bad, but it wasn’t what I was expecting.

18-Hour Beef Banh Mi

The Washington Post recently ran an article on what millennials value in food. Having recently tried BONMi and made up my mind about it, one passage stood out to me:

According to research by the Center for Culinary Development, millennials also “value authenticity above almost all else. If a sandwich is billed as a Vietnamese banh mi, they expect it to look, feel and taste like an authentic banh mi.”

Nothing about BONMi’s 18-hour beef sandwich was bad. In fact, it was quite tasty. But I struggled to overcome its branding. To me, it just didn’t “look, feel and taste like an authentic banh mi.” Nor did it read as fusion. There was none of the bright freshness I associate with Vietnamese cuisine. The cilantro and Sriracha were, I suppose, drowned out by the deep savoriness of the brisket. Instead, BONMi served up a decent pot roast hoagie. And I suppose that’s something, but I guess I struggle with prototypical millennial tendencies nonetheless.

For these reasons, BONMi’s 18-hour beef banh mi is

AFFIRMED in part and REMANDED in part to BONMi 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.

When I first saw Urban Bumpkin’s menu, I was worried. I saw the truck described its cuisine as “fusion.” This Cart has many times described its distrust of fusion, which is too often code for confusion. (Picture Rachael Ray’s marsala masala, a cute idea that has no business existing.) Urban Bumpkin’s menu spans the globe: an “urban Native American taco” with “[t]raditional Native Alaskan fried bread,” a smoked barbecue sandwich, borsch (“Authentic Taste of Russia!”) and Russian shwarma, and Southeast Asian flavors. I could strain to link Alaska and Russia – after all, the Russians claimed Alaska as a colony from 1733 to 1867, and, if you live in Alaska, you can see Russia from your house. But Vietnamese flavors?  Southeastern American barbecue? As I say, I was worried. But then I learned the truck was a barbecue truck, the creation of a gentleman born in Alaska of Vietnamese roots, with a lady of Eastern European extraction who takes your order. And suddenly it all made sense: this was natural fusion, the collision of a lifetime of experiences, not some gastronomic Frankenstein’s monster.

My eye landed first on the “urban Native American taco,” described as a “[t]raditional Native Alaskan fried bread filled with smoked meat, chili garlic coleslaw, fresh pico de gallo and smoked mayo.” My choices were “sweet chili garlic chicken” or “smoked pulled pork.” I opted for the latter.

Urban Bumpkin

The traditional Native Alaskan fried bread was actually a form of frybread, a staple not just of Native Alaskans but of Native Americans more broadly. I’ve had frybread many times: at a ramada at twilight on the dirt plaza outside the cloud-white Mission San Xavier del Bac on the Tohono O’odham reservation south of Tucson, among the pueblos of Northern New Mexico, as a small child at the Mattaponi pow wow in rural Virginia, and, more locally, in the terrific cafeteria at the National Museum of the American Indian. It may be served plain. It is sometimes served sweet, with honey and powdered sugar. At other times, it is made into an Indian or Navajo taco, topped with beans and chili and cheese and onions and tomatoes and lettuce. Whatever its form, “a good piece of fry bread turns any meal into a feast.”

Urban Bumpkin’s “Urban Native American taco” was of the last variety — the Navajo taco – and turned out to be a rather delicious, if not entirely traditional, preparation of the dish. The smoked pulled pork was wonderfully flavorful – smoky, as advertised, tender, with a deep flavor, and clearly cooked for many hours. The coleslaw and cilantro were bright. The pico de gallo wasn’t altogether bad but tasted too strongly of lime for the concoction.

Urban Native American Taco

All in all, I quite enjoyed the Urban Bumpkin. Though the flavors were not flavors I recognized from Indian tacos past, the dish was cohesive and, aside from an overdose of lime juice, well-balanced. It was clearly fusion, but fusion done fairly well, in that ingredients from disparate sources were chosen because they paired well, not as part of any gimmick. The dish is quite substantial, to boot, and, at $8.18 is priced reasonably (no matter how odd the price itself).

But was it street food? Yes and no. We have decided many times before that a taco is “street food,” because it 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. 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). In concept, the Urban Native American Taco is similar to other tacos, but, given its sheer bulk, I was unable to eat it without a fork and a knife. This alone could disqualify the dish from the realm of “street food.” Nevertheless, because it is a traditional form of street food (see the memory of San Xavier del Bac above), I would find that it is “street food” and thus entitled to the presumption of affirmance. See In re Hot People Food, 6 Catt. 4 (2012); In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt 2 (2012). I affirm.

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

One evening after a long day of work in my chambers, I began to make my way home when I spotted a food truck on the far side of the metro station. Uncommon as it is to see a food truck offering dinner service, I immediately changed my evening plans, put my metro card away, and headed towards a food truck called PhoWheels.

PhoWheels

PhoWheels, as one can guess from the name, is a Vietnamese food truck that serves pho. But, in its own words, it is “[n]ot just a PhoTruck [sic].” It offers “a modern interpretation of traditional Viet cuisine, where comforting favorite dishes blend seamlessly w[ith] bold new flavors.” One bold new flavor that appeared on its menu this past September was the Astro Doughnut Bánh Mì.

This unusual offering was the result of a collaboration between PhoWheels and Astro Doughnuts. The DC doughnut-maker created a savory flavor made with bacon, cheddar, and chives to go with PhoWheels’s bánh mì sandwich. At PhoWheels, the sandwich comes with the usual toppings of cilantro and pickled radishes and carrots, plus the addition of sliced cucumbers and truffle aioli. For the main filling, the customer has three choices: 1) “5 spice maple glazed porkbelly [sic]”; 2) “[s]oy garlic chicken”; or 3) “[m]ushroom-onion tofu.”

Feeling adventurous, I opted for the pork belly bánh mì on an Astro doughnut. I also ordered a tofu bánh mì on a French baguette, the usual glutinous container for a bánh mì. PhoWheels’s menu includes two everyday bread options: a baguette or a croissant. Whichever way the customer pairs the breads and meats (or “meat” in the case of the tofu), the cost is $8 plus tax.

True Street Food

Little time needs to be spent on the initial question facing the Cart: whether a bánh mì is 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). This court has already determined that sandwiches in general, and bánh mì sandwiches in particular, are street food. See In re Lemongrass, 7 Catt. 1 (2012). As true street food, I am required to affirm PhoWheels’s bánh mì sandwiches absent significant flaws with the offerings. In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012).

Astro Doughnut Bánh Mì with 5 Spice Maple Glazed Pork Belly

Pork Belly Bánh Mì on an Astro Doughnut

I’ll start with my conclusion: the pork belly bánh mì wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great either. As my youthful law clerk might say, “Just eh.” The biggest issue, for me, was the doughnut. Luckily, what pops into my head when I think of a doughnut—a cloyingly sweet, glazed pastry—was not what I got. But unluckily, what I did get was a tasteless and textureless bun. While the doughnut was made with bacon, cheddar, and chives, none of those flavors were detectable. And as far as texture goes, it was one-dimensional and boring. The thick and somewhat dry bun distracted my taste buds from the sandwich filling when it should have accentuated the filling. The sandwich probably would have been more interesting if the bun (I can’t call it a doughnut; it really wasn’t one) had been grilled like a Panini.

The pork belly was disappointing too, unfortunately. It was bland. Sure, it was fatty (it was pork belly, after all), but it was underseasoned. I detected neither the seasoning of five spices, nor the sweetness of a maple glaze.

The highlight of the sandwich was the pickled radishes and carrots. Fresh and crunchy. And, thank goodness, a whole lot of it piled high. PhoWheels got this part right.

Mushroom-Onion Tofu Bánh Mì on a French Baguette

Tofu Bánh Mì on a Baguette

I was impressed with PhoWheels’s tofu bánh mì on a baguette as much as I was unimpressed with the pork belly bánh mì on a doughnut. The delicious pickled radishes and carrots were there, plus this time the “meat” (tofu) and bread (baguette) were of equally high execution and quality. The tofu pieces were deep-fried and tossed in a tasty mushroom and onion sauce. And the baguette—oh, the baguette!—was everything I wished it to be. Crusty on the outside, and moist and soft inside. This was a very solid bánh mì offering.

To answer the question that might be lingering in the minds of regular bánh mì eaters: Yes, customers of Song Que in Arlington’s Eden Center will probably balk at PhoWheels’s $8 price tag (compared with the less than $4 that Song Que charges for its (smaller) bánh mì sandwiches), but I didn’t regret getting this practically-delivered-to-my-door bánh mì. Plus, PhoWheels offers a free bánh mì after you buy ten.

Conclusion

Two essential components of the classic bánh mì sandwich—the baguette and the pickled radishes and carrots—were spot on at PhoWheels. Unfortunately, while the vegetarian tofu was a surprisingly satisfying find, the pork belly was bland.

Customers who missed the chance to get a bánh mì on an Astro doughnut last month need not worry. The doughnut added nothing special to the sandwich. However, I appreciated PhoWheels’s out-of-the-box thinking and willingness to try something different. If it creates a bánh mì sandwich with other breads of the world in the future, I would probably get in line. Bagel bánh mì, anyone?

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

There is a wonderful Indonesian restaurant in a fascinatingly diverse strip mall off Van Dorn Street in Alexandria: Satay Sarinah. They offer a fried duck which, as you might imagine, I am quite fond of. They also offer a chocolate avocado smoothie which I adore. And, if you’re in the mood, they offer kopi luwak 100%.

Satay Sarinah has done us all a favor and opened up a food truck, Saté Truck, which roams the streets of the District. According to their website, they are the first food truck in the United States to feature Indonesian food. I don’t know offhand whether this is or is not true, but it could very well be. It’s not as though there are a lot of Indonesian restaurants in the metro area to begin with. (But, really, there should be. It’s delicious.)

Saté Truck

Saté Truck (“ST”) offers a variety of dishes: chicken sate, mie ayam (egg noodles, chicken, oyster mushrooms, sesame sauce, bok choy, and crispy wonton), and a combo platter (coconut rice, beef rendang, chicken sate, vegetable stew, and corn fritters). A vegan menu is purportedly “coming soon,” but that is not the subject of this review.

The name of the truck is Saté Truck and so, naturally, I opted for the chicken sate (the diacritic may or may not be optional; it may apparently also be grave or acute). It came with coconut rice, peanut sauce, and vegetable stew.

Our first inquiry is whether sate/saté/satè/satay is “street food” under our jurisprudence and thus entitled to the presumption of affirmance. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012); In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5 (2011). We have defined “street food” to be food that (1) is cooked or capable of being cooked in front of the customer; (2) is meant to be eaten with one’s hands; and (3) is eaten or is capable of being eaten while standing up. In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2; In re Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5. Served on skewers, the chicken sate is, clearly, “street food” as we have defined that term. Besides, it is classic street food in its place of origin.  See In re Hot People Food, 6 Catt. 4 (2012). The fact that it is also served with less mobile accoutrements need not alter this determination. See In re OoH DaT ChickeN, 16 Catt. 3 (2013). Therefore,  ST’s chicken sate is entitled to the presumption of affirmance.

I affirm.

Chicken Saté

As noted above, the dish is composed of four parts. As is our practice, see In re TaKorean, 1 Catt. 4 (2011), I consider each in turn.

Chicken Sate. Sate, of course, is “seasoned, skewered, and grilled meat.” Chicken, of course, is chicken. (Or is it?) Chicken sate, then, is “seasoned, skewered, and grilled [chicken].” The chicken was well seasoned (turmeric?) and quite flavorful. It was well grilled, with a beautiful smokey char but still entirely succulent. (I suppose the chicken was well skewered, as well, but that’s no great feat so far I can tell.)

Peanut Sauce. The peanut sauce renders probably involves soy sauce, sambal, and shallots, but I could be wrong. The sauce was wonderful, savory and sweet, and complemented the succulent chicken magnificently.

Vegetable Stew. While only a side, the vegetable stew was exquisite: a mixture of green beans, carrots, cauliflower, etc. simmered in a seasoned (turmeric?) broth.

Coconut Rice. The jasmine rice was well prepared and flavored with coconut.

For these reasons

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.

If there’s one thing the DC dining scene loves, it’s small plates. Sometimes, this format is successful, e.g., Jaleo. Sometimes, it’s less so, e.g., Ambar. (Try splitting two tiny stuffed cabbage six ways. Hint: It can’t be done gracefully.) So why shouldn’t a mobile gastronomic enterprise have in on the fun. Here enters Tapas Truck, which, according to its website, serves “Authentic Spanish Cuisine.” Of course the website is also chock full of imagery of delicious-looking paellas and hams wholly unlike anything sold off the truck.

Tapas Truck

For $10, I was able to choose 3 out of 4 tapas options. My clerk and I opted for the following:

• Pollo Valenzia [sic]: “Pan roasted chicken breast in our roasted pepper sauce, served with rice.”
• Shrimp pil pil: “Crispy shrimp in a sweet and spicy sauce.”
• Corn fritters: “Sweet corn nuggets served with cilantro lime sauce.”

(We decided against the fried calamari, salted and peppered with smokey sauce.)

Pollo Valenzia, Shrimp Pil Pil, Corn Fritters

I’ve been to Spain twice. That is not to say I’m some sort of expert on “authentic Spanish cuisine.” But I am fairly certain the food I sampled was hardly authentic, unless you count some swim-up bar in Benidorm that caters exclusively to Brits and Dutch on holiday. The Pollo Valeniza could have been a Lean Cuisine — somewhat palatable, but entirely forgettable. The shrimp pil pil and the corn fritters tasted like fare you might find at some Parrothead-themed beach bar in Virginia Beach: overly sweet, a gloppy sauce, best paired with something rum-based in a tiki head.

I was unimpressed.

Ordinarily, I would devote some time determining whether the sampled fare was “street food,” for, under our jurisprudence true street food is entitled to a presumption of affirmance whereas non-street food must prove itself entirely on its merits. Whether or not Tapas Truck’s fare qualifies as street food is immaterial. Either way it is unsuccessful.

REMANDED to Tapas Truck for revision. It is so ordered.

I granted cartiorari to The Salsa Room (TSR) Quesadillas and Empanadas (TSRQAE), a mobile offshoot of Columbia Pike’s The Salsa Room, purveying, well, quesadillas and empanadas. Or salteñas, rather, which may or may not even be empanadas at all. A salteña is Bolivian, it is baked, and, I gather, its filling is more soup- or stew-like than that of a more familiar empanada. Forced to choose between the two (sequestration affects even the halls of justice), I opted for a salteña. One of the chorizo variety, to be precise.

TSR Quesadillas & Empanadas

As an initial matter, I must determine whether a salteña is “street food” and therefore entitled to the presumption of affirmance. While the case of DC Empanadas, 1 Catt. 3 (2011), predates our Eat Wonky test for determining whether a given foodstuff is “street food,” the logic of that case makes clear that an empanada is properly considered street food. While there is some uncertainty surrounding whether a salteña is or is not an empanada, legally the two are similar enough concepts that a salteña, too, must be considered “street food” and therefore entitled to the presumption of affirmance.

Visually, TSRQAE’s chorizo salteña is stunning. It is a perfect mound of golden dough — a rather sizable mound at that (and, at $4, something of a steal) — with a thick, shimmering braid along is crest and two red dots, two hypnotic eyes luring you in. It is served with a spoon — which, I am informed, is for salteña posers — and a diminutive vat of a thin hot sauce.

Chorizo empanada

One bite into the salteña reveals its stew-like innards and therein the trickiness of its consumption. My clerk was quick to inform of an unfortunate incident in which an empanada, or what must have been a salteña, ruined a perfectly fine seersucker suit. (N.B. We of the Cart cannot be understood to condone the wearing of seersucker.) Apparently the way to consume a salteña is as follows:

The way I learned to eat saltenas . . . was to hold the pastry upright in one hand and bite off the top. You can drink the liquid immediately, if you’d like, or just nibble down the edges of the saltena, sucking the stew along the way. You’re trying to achieve the perfect balance of pastry and filling with each bite.

Tim Carman, “Immigrant’s Table extra: The Salsa Room truck,” WASH. POST, October 23, 2012. I did not have the benefit of Mr. Carman’s advice at the time though I seemed to have arrived independently at his second method (i.e., nibbling and sucking). In this way, my robes managed to remain unblemished.

Chorizo empanada with hot sauce

The dough itself was rich and a tad sweet, which complimented the salty, comfortably spicy filling of loose chorizo and assorted vegetable. That the dough held up to the stew-like filling was a marvel of pastry engineering. This was not the most complicated or innovative of dishes, but it didn’t really have to be. It was a terrific empanada — er, salteña — and a perfect example of street food done right.

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

In Crystal City for the day, I was excited to see a food truck parked on Crystal Drive. The Crystal City BID seems to have scared away most of its burgeoning food truck scene with its “Food Truck Thursdays” failure. (My sister has heard that many food trucks avoid Crystal City like the plague, but who could blame them). But A’ Lo Cubano (“ALC”) had braved the city of the future and set up shop in a particularly perilous spot outside a particularly adversarial Corner Bakery.

(I recall bad blood between Corner Bakery and Seoul Food. And the petition for cartiorari in this case notes the following: “Lady from Corner Bakery interfering (both handing out free treat coupons and also asking the truck to move) – brick and mortars have no clue what to do.” Amen.)

I was eager to sample ALC’s wares.

(Before passing to the questions at hand, I must note that ALC has successfully gotten the song “A Lo Cubano,” by Havanese hip-hop group Orishas, stuck in my head. In the freewheeling halcyon days of KaZaA, a certain high school student may or may not have compiled an album of international rap. Another song, “Così e Cosà,” by Milanese group Articolo 31, proved particularly popular among a certain social group. “Pachka Sigaret,” which isn’t even really rap at all, proved less so.)

I granted cartiorari to ALC’s traditional Cuban sandwich following an emailed petition for cartiorari. While this does not comply with the specific requirements of Rule of Procedure 2-3, I will accept this as a valid Petition as it complies with the spirit, if not the letter, of that Rule.

Cuban Sandwich

As a sandwich is “street food,” ALC’s Cuban sandwich is entitled to the presumption of affirmance announced in Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012).

A Cuban sandwich is a pressed sandwich of “Cuban pulled pork, premium sliced ham and imported Swiss cheese” (but imported from where?). A relatively simple thing, a good Cuban sandwich can be a thing of wonder. Unfortunately, despite being home to the Cuban Interests Section of the Swiss Embassy, DC is sorely lacking in decent Cuban food. (Versailles: move north.) At ALC, the Cuban sandwich can be ordered either of two ways:

(1) “traditional,” i.e., with yellow mustard and pickles, or
(2) “con mojo,” i.e., with a “house made spicy pepper sauce.”

Ever the traditionalist, I opted for the first option.  I ordered my sandwich with black beans and rice ($10), which proved a tad al dente for my liking and ultimately forgettable. The petition for cartiorari likewise notes: “Rice&Beans – $2 for essentially 2 oz of dried out rice and beans.  Unforgiveable.” I agree. The sandwich itself, however, was fantastic.

First, the size. The sandwich is huge. A clerk of mine was unable to eat more than half of her sandwich. I ate my entire sandwich but only because I had no way to store the second half of my sandwich and I refused to let it go to waste. (The things I do for justice, o reader!)

ALC’s ingredients were top notch. (All except for the yellow mustard, that is, but who wants top-of-the-line yellow mustard?) The ham and cheese were perfect and, while I have made known for my general uncertainty with regard to pulled pork, ALC’s pulled pork was moist and flavorful, at least close to El Floridano quality which generally serves as my bar. The bread was memorable: crispy on the outside, buttery on the inside. Most significantly, ALC doesn’t try to reinvent a classic sandwich or dress it up unnecessarily. It takes a simple combination and executes it well–generally a good sign when it comes to street food.

For these reasons, the case is

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

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.

I granted cartiorari on the question of the pulled pork barbecue sandwich and fries at Food for the Soul (“FFTS”).

I. JURISDICTION

As an initial matter, I must decide whether this Cart has jurisdiction to hear a case involving FFTS. Under our Rules of Procedure, the jurisdiction of the Cart extends to mobile gastronomic enterprises (“MGE”) in Arlington, Alexandria, and the District reasonably proximate to public transportation of a reasonably rapid and efficient character. However, FFTS is a primarily Fairfax-based MGE which happened to visit Arlington one blustery day. The question then is whether a Fairfax-based MGE which serves its cuisine at times within the combined area of Arlington, Alexandria, and the District may fall within the jurisdiction of this Cart.

Our decision in In re Make My Cake, 16 Catt. 4 (2013) answers this question. Though that case was dismissed on other grounds, we held that a New York-based MGE which served cupcakes at the second inauguration of Barack Obama was properly within the jurisdiction of this Cart. There is no principled distinction between a New York-based MGE and a Fairfax-based MGE. Accordingly, FFTS must be found to fall within this Cart’s jurisdiction.

Food for the Soul

II. STREET FOOD

I next must inquire whether FFTS’s pulled pork sandwich and fries constitute “street food.” If so, the dish must be affirmed absent grievous error. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012). If it is not, the food truck must prove the worth of its creations. See id. “Street food” is food which “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 a sandwich is “street food.” See Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2. And though the decision predates our explicit street food jurisprudence, we have affirmed a pulled pork sandwich. See In re El Floridano, 2 Catt. 2 (2011). FFTS’s pulled pork sandwich, too, is clearly “street food.” And though a side dish alone cannot defeat application of the presumption, see In re OoH DaT ChickeN, 16 Catt. 3 (2013), fries, too, meet our “street food” test. Accordingly, the presumption of affirmance holds, and I proceed to adjudication of the MGE’s cuisine.

Pulled Pork Sandwich and Fries

III. CUISINE

A. Sandwich

I have registered my general dislike of the pulled pork sandwich. El Floridano, 2 Catt. 2 (2011). I have also, however, affirmed a pulled pork sandwich, finding it to be quite delicious and quite well executed. See id. But, in my experience, a pulled pork sandwich is more generally dry and somewhat bland. Unfortunately, FFTS’s pulled pork sandwich falls into the latter class. It was both dry and bland; it was underwhelming. Therefore, I find the presumption of affirmance to be rebutted.

B. Fries

FFTS’s fries were crinkle-cut. They were palatable, yes, and not altogether terrible, but they tasted suspiciously like Ore-Ida. I have a sneaky suspicion they were Ore-Ida. You can read reviews here.

IV. CONCLUSION

For the reasons given in this opinion, this case is

REMANDED to Food for the Soul for revision. It is so ordered.

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.

I granted cartiorari to BBQ Bus (“BBQB”).

I. PETITION FOR CARTIORARI

A petition for cartiorari was submitted by Julia pursuant to Rule of Procedure 2-3(a). The petition asks whether “a food cart catering experience [can] be as amazing as a street-side food cart experience.” In support of the petition, Julia contends the following:

1. The question presented is of exceptional importance: the BBQ Bus catered our wedding and no one could shut up about how awesome the food was. Some were heard to express that the overall experience of having a food cart cater a bumpin’ party was even better than eating in the park at lunchtime on a sunny day. In the alternative, the experience was at least equal to eating in the park at lunchtime on a sunny day.

2. The BBQ Bus is clearly a superior vehicle [N.B. pun noted and appreciated] for addressing the question presented. It is, after all, bright yellow like a school bus, but with flames.

The petition presumes “the High Cart” should accept for review the BBQ Bus, particularly the pulled pork BBQ sandwich, the potato salad, and the corn salad, and, by relying on record evidence and testimony from the wedding of Brad & Julia, compare the overall experience to that of eating the same food in the park at lunchtime on a sunny day.

The petition, in essence, asks this Cart to determine (a) whether a wedding food cart experience is preferable  to—or, in the alternative, equal to—a lunchtime, park-based food cart experience; and (b) the merits of BBQ Bus in particular.

While we must deny the petition for cartiorari (Rule of Procedure 2-3(b)) for the reasons given below, we ultimately take this opportunity to grant cartiorari sua sponte pursuant to Rule of Procedure 2-2.

A. Question 1: Wedding Reception Food Truck v. Park at Lunchtime Food Truck

As a preliminary matter, the Cart must deny the petitioner’s first question as it is presented, that is, whether “the overall experience of having a food cart cater a bumpin’ party [is] even better than eating in the park at lunchtime on a sunny day,” or, in the alternative, whether it is an experience of equivalent worth.

A food truck wedding reception is a novel and intriguing idea. Apparently, it is also a growing trend. See, e.g., here and here and here. It seems to have been a hit at Brad and Julia’s wedding, and we applaud the success and foresight of their avant garde sensibilities. (We of the Supreme Cart of course also congratulate Brad and Julia on their wedding and wish them all the best in their life together!)

However this Cart, like other courts of federal jurisdiction, is limited by the first clause of section 2 of Article III of the United States Constitution, which restricts “the judicial Power” to “cases” and “controversies.” U.S CONST. art. III, § 2. In particular, a federal court is forbidden from issuing a mere advisory opinion in an instance in which there is no actual controversy. Muskrat v. United States, 219 U.S. 346 (1911). The first question asks only whether a non-lunchtime food truck experience is better than or equal to a lunchtime food truck experience. The breadth of this question exceeds the institutional capacity and democratic purpose of this Cart. Because it is not limited to a single food truck, or a controversy between multiple specific food trucks, it must be dismissed as a request for an advisory opinion.

B. Question 2: BBQ Bus in the Context of Question 1

The second question specifies that BBQB is a “superior vehicle” for addressing the first question. While this question is sufficiently specific, it, too, must be dismissed given an insufficient record.

The petitioner invites this Cart to “rely[] on record evidence and testimony from the wedding of Brad & Julia” to compare the wedding reception food truck experience to a more standard lunchtime food truck experience. This we cannot do.

As a federal court established by Congress, we are bound by the Federal Rules of Evidence. Under those rules, hearsay is not admissible unless otherwise provided by a federal statute, the rules of evidence themselves, or other rules prescribed by the Supreme Court. FED. R. EVID. 802. “Hearsay” is defined to mean “a statement that (1) the declarant does not make while testifying at the current trial or hearing; and (2) a party offers in evidence to prove the truth of the matter asserted in the statement.” FED. R. EVID. 801.

The statements at issue here—that “no one could shut up about how awesome the food was” and that “[s]ome were heard to express that the overall experience of having a food cart cater a bumpin’ party was even better than eating in the park at lunchtime on a sunny day”—clearly satisfy both prongs of the definition of hearsay. As for the former, the statements were made at the wedding described, not “while testifying at the current trial or hearing.” As for the latter, the statements are clearly offered to prove the truth of the matter asserted, not, for example, to show constructive knowledge. Finally, we find no federal statute, other rule of evidence, or other rule prescribed by the Supreme Court which would allow us to admit these statements into the record. Accordingly, because there is no record on which to assess the relative worth of the wedding reception food truck experience, we must deny cartiorari with regard to the petitioner’s second question.

(As an aside, had the Justices of this Cart been invited to Brad and Julia’s wedding, the outcome may have been different. But we’re not bitter. Not at all. Besides, there are issues of proper judicial conduct to consider.)

Therefore, because neither question of the petitioner presents  a proper basis for granting cartiorari, we must deny the petition under Rule of Procedure 2-3(b).

II. GRANT OF CARTIORARI

Nevertheless, we take this opportunity to nevertheless grant cartiorari under the procedure prescribed by Rule of Procedure 2-2. We grant cartiorari to consider the BBQ Bus Sampler, a platter composed of “smoky pulled pork,” “spiced chicken,” “sliced brisket,” “BBQ bus beans,” “crispy slaw,” and a “buttermilk cornmeal biscuit.”

While we cannot grant cartiorari based on the petition of Julia, Rule of Procedure 2-6 provides that “would-be commenters, who feel some urge to opine on any aspect of any proceeding may do so as an amicus (or amica) curiae by so commenting on the relevant grant of cartiorari or grant of reconsideration.” While the petition of Julia, phrased as a petition under Rule 2-3, does not comply with the specific amicus requirements of Rule 2-6, it would offend justice to give no consideration to the arguments presented. Therefore, we hold that a petition for cartiorari submitted under Rule 2-3 that is denied under Rule 2-3(b) may serve as a constructive amicus brief under Rule of Procedure 2-6, subject to consideration by the Supreme Cart upon grant of cartiorari. The text of the petition of Julia was considered in the adjudication of this case.

BBQ Bus By Night

III. HOURS

Before proceeding to the question of BBQB’s food, I must pause a moment on the enterprise’s hours. Argument took place in the evening hours on an otherwise quiet, leafy, residential stretch of Calvert Street Northwest. BBQB must be applauded for its “dinner” and “late-night” hours. We have previously  touched on the merits of food trucks open outside of lunch hours. See, e.g., In re Choupi, 18 Catt. 2 (2013) (on the question of breakfast). Other metropolises feature vibrant evening street food scenes, for example the famous night markets of Taiwan. The closest we have, perhaps, is Truckeroo, but that is a monthly, somewhat artificial event arguably divorced from surrounding street life. Perhaps BBQB signals a move toward an around-the-clock street food culture. That is to be applauded. On that point alone, I must affirm BBQ, at least in part.

IV. FOOD

A. “Street Food”

I must first ask whether BBQB’s cuisine is properly “street food.” If it is, the jurisprudence of this Cart requires that it be affirmed absent some other grievous error. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012). If it is not, the food truck must prove the worth of its creations. See id. Case law defines “street food” to be that which “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 this test should not be taken to define the scope of “street food,” it provides a useful starting point. See In re DC Ballers, 19 Catt. 1 (2013) (quoting In re Hot People Food, 6 Catt. 4 (2012)). The bulk of the container containing my meal verifies that it was not meant to be eaten by hand, without forks, or while standing up. Therefore, it cannot meet the strict requirements of the Eat Wonky inquiry. I find no other historical or cultural reasons to find BBQB’s platter to constitute “street food.” It is really nothing more than streetside carry-out. Therefore, the BBQ Bus Sampler must stand entirely on its own inherent worth.

B. The Food Itself

Smoky Pulled Pork. I have written previously of a certain, not entirely fruitful relationship with pulled pork. See In re El Floridano, 2 Catt. 2 (2011); In re DC Empanadas, 1 Catt. 3 (2011). While I have no strong dislike for pulled pork, I tend to find that there are more delectable preparations of pork in barbecue’s repertoire. I say this only to provide honesty in my opinion and to avoid needless claims of hidden bias. See El Floridano, 2 Catt. 2 (affirming a pulled pork sandwich). In the interests of justice, I sampled BBQB’s smoky pulled pork. As far as pulled pork goes, BBQB’s was decent. While not the best I’ve had, even in the DC street food scene, it was good, better even than pulled pork I’ve sampled in more southerly regions of the country. The pork was nicely smoky, as promised, moist, and not shredded into oblivion. A bit of hot sauce, while not necessary, proved helpful.

Spiced Chicken. My clerk and I agree that, of the three meats sampled, the spiced chicken was, surprisingly, the best. It was tender, juicy, and flavorful, quite flavorful in fact, in almost a jerk manner.

Sliced Brisket. Normally fans of barbecue brisket, my clerk and I found BBQB’s sliced brisket the least successful of the three meats sampled. It was somewhat tough and somewhat bland. While not bad, it was not exciting, inspired, or extraordinarily well-executed.  It ranked somewhere slightly below mediocre.

BBQ Bus Beans. BBQB’s beans were average, which is really all I can say about them. BBQB contends they are “[p]acked with more sweet & spicy flavor than you thought could fit in a bean,” though I’m afraid I’ve encountered beans packed with significantly more of both.

Crispy Slaw. BBQB’s slaw is more aptly described as “crisp” than “crispy.” It is composed of “[s]hredded red & green cabbage & carrots tossed in [BBQB’s] house vinaigrette.” My grandfather used to say you could judge the quality of a restaurant by the quality of its coleslaw. Judging by this standard, BBQB is somewhat uninteresting. Luckily for BBQB, this aphorism has never been adopted as a legal standard by this Cart.

Buttermilk Cornmeal Biscuit. I enjoy cornbread, and I enjoy buttermilk biscuits. I do not think I enjoy buttermilk cornmeal biscuits. The cornmeal takes away from the velvety butteriness of the biscuit. The biscuit preparation detracts from the corny grittiness of cornbread. It is not the happiest of mediums.

VI. CONCLUSION

I would enthusiastically affirm the spiced chicken and otherwise affirm the smoky pulled pork, BBQB Bus Beans, and crispy slaw. I would remand the sliced brisket and buttermilk cornmeal biscuit to BBQB for revision. For these reasons, the case is

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

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.

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 Seoul Food’s winter special, Mushroom and Pork Donburi. Seoul Food’s dishes have been placed on the bench of this court on several occasions. The Steak Superbowl (a Korean-Mexican rice bowl) was made with high-quality ingredients but in the end the fusion mix was not my personal favorite. See In re Seoul Food (The Korean Superbowl Case), 3 Catt. 1 (2011). The Steak Bibimbap (a more traditional Korean dish) was executed to perfection and has fed the Justices of this court many times since that first lunch. See In re Seoul Food (The Beef Bibimbap Case), 3 Catt. 2 (2011). The Chief Justice was also very impressed with last winter’s seasonal soups. See In re Seoul Food (The Winter Soups Case), 5 Catt. 4 (2012). With this record, Seoul Food has shown itself to be a leader on Arlington’s food truck scene, so I had high expectations for its special menu item.

Seoul Food

Seoul Food’s Mushroom and Pork Donburi ($9) [1] is made with shitake, oyster, and crimini mushrooms. The pork is marinated in sake, red wine, and sweet soy. The meat-and-mushroom dish is completed with vegetables (carrots) and topped off with sesame seeds and green onions. To add heat, diced jalapeños are added upon request. (You should request.)

Because rice bowls are not “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), Seoul Food’s donburi is not entitled to the presumption that it belongs on the street and should be affirmed by this court. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012). But no matter, the dish stands up on its own, and I affirm.

Mushroom and Pork Donburi

The Mushroom and Pork Donburi was a satisfying lunch. It could have been a satisfying dinner too, since the serving size was so generous, but I didn’t have the strength to stop eating halfway through even though I was full. Here’s why: The pork was tender and full of flavor. The mushrooms were succulent and earthy. And there was just the right amount of heat – my nose got a little runny, as often happens with spicy food, but it was not spicy enough to blind my eyes with tears. Lastly, and most importantly in my opinion, the bed of white rice was sticky and chewy, just the way I like it. See In re AZNeats, 2 Catt. 3 (2011).

As I expected, Seoul Food’s Mushroom and Pork Donburi was tasty and well-executed. Another solid dish from a food truck that aims high and rarely disappoints.

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

[1] Seoul Food offers a small discount for customers who bring back a plastic food container for re-use.

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.

I granted cartiorari to give consideration to Kababji Food Truck’s (“KFT”) spicy intabli sandwich, labneh, and baba ghannouj. KFT is a mobile gastronomic enterprise associated with Connecticut Avenue’s Kababji Grill that has been operating on the streets of this Cart’s jurisdiction since May.  At a glance, KBT does not appear terribly distinct from other kebab-themed trucks apart, perhaps, from slightly better graphics, a television mounted on its side, and a broader array of offerings. But, if nothing else, kebab makes for an excellent lunch and terrific “street food”—as defined by the precedent of this Cart—and, in the end, KBT did not disappoint.

I opted for the pita platter, which allows you to choose a sandwich from a list of seven along with two cold mezze from a list of six. I opted for the “spicy intabli sandwich,” with labneh and baba ghannouj as my sides of choice. For $9, you get a truly considerable amount of food, and so I would consider this a “good deal” in line with other good deals considered through the history of this venerable tribunal.

Spicy Intabli Sandwich with Labneh and Baba Ghannouj

In place of the spicy intabli sandwich, I could have opted for a number of staples—shish taouk, halabi, hummus, labneh, etc. But what drew me to the spicy intabli sandwich was the fact that I had no idea what an “intabli” was. The menu offered no explanation, which only further piqued my interest. It turns out an “intabli kabab” is ground beef “seasoned with house-blend spices, fresh peppers, chopped parsley and  mild pepper paste,” or so it is defined by Kababji Grill’s more intricate menu. I would not call the sandwich particularly “spicy” in the traditional sense—that is, it does not tend to burn any part of the digestive tract. It is “spicy” in this sense that it contains a bounty of spices—maybe cumin, maybe coriander, maybe sumac, who knows—that form a harmonious, pleasing, and gustatory whole.

The labneh is simple, as labneh should be. It is rich and creamy and a bit sour. It is delicious with pita.

The baba ghannouj was quite smoky but without tasting of motor oil. It tasted strongly of eggplant as opposed to filler. Most importantly, it tasted fresh.

KBT is by no means innovative. Instead, it takes classic Middle Eastern street food and, without trying to improve it or fuse it voguishly with some other far-flung cuisine, serves it quickly, freshly, sufficiently authentically, tastily, and affordably. For this reason, I would affirm.

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

Opinion of JEREMY, C.J., in chambers.

When the cat’s away, the mice will play. Today, with Catt away for the holiday, I shall gladly play mouse.

After a long night alone in my wood-paneled chambers, where I sat reading long hours from dusty and yellowed tomes by the greenish light of a banker’s lamp before dozing off, I awoke to find that Thanksgiving had arrived. It being Thanksgiving, I naturally harbored a certain yen for that particular bird we celebrate on this joyous day: the duck. And so I set out from my chambers to find some duck.

I found the streets and the avenues of the District lonely and desolate and deserted. Stoplights blinked on and off with no car in sight. Shops and restaurants were shuttered. There was not a food truck to be found amid the streets and the avenues—not even a duck truck. See In re PORC, 4 Catt. 1 (2011); Metro Halal Food v. Tasty Kabob, 1 Catt. 2 (2011) (Jeremy, C.J., concurring).

And so I plodded silently back to my chambers along sad and lonely streets, my long, black judicial robes brushing fallen leaves. I collapsed into my mustard-colored, velveteen chair—the one with the brass tacks—and lit a cigar. I sat puffing away, legs crossed, pondering in the gloom and the silence, when a notion hit me on the head like a glossy Braeburn apple. I knew where I could find my Thanksgiving duck truck. I knew of a place where such a mobile gastronomic enterprise would be parked curbside: in my dreams and my imagination.

I stamped out my cigar and ran out of my chambers and into the street, my long, black judicial robes flowing behind me like the wings of a bat. I gasped. There, in front of me, was the duck truck of my dreams gleaming in the mid-autumn sun like a fresh-picked lemon. The truck was covered with emeralds and rubies and lapis lazuli. Its mirrors were of silver; its wheels were of gold. A chandelier hung within. I ran to the truck and ordered a pan-seared duck breast in a gauzy, crimson reduction of red wine and orange. In exchange for two twenties, it came to me on bone china with a toile print and gilded edges. A cloth napkin was handed to me along with a fork and knife of purest gold. I sat on the curb, napkin tucked in the collar of my judicial robes, and slowly and deliberately devoured my duck magret. I washed it down with a champagne of exquisite vintage sipped from a hand-blown flute.

There is likely to be some question as to whether this Cart has jurisdiction over a Cart found only in the imagination of one of its justices. Under our Rules of Procedure, our 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.” That test in no ways speaks of physicality. It so happens I have imagined a mobile gastronomic enterprise in the District of Columbia reasonably proximate to public transportation. The test is satisfied, and so the Cart must be found to have jurisdiction over a Cart found only in the imagination of one of its justices. If that is not enough, the potentiality of such an establishment within the bounds of our jurisdiction should satisfy even my sharpest critic.

Before describing the beauty of the duck, I realize I must pause and determine whether my Thanksgiving feast constituted “street food.” We have defined “street food” time and time again, and our definition bears no repetition here. We have also made clear that that definition is a balancing test. I have conducted the requisite balancing and find the subject of consideration to be “street food.”

The duck was succulent. Its center was a beautiful shade of ruddy pink. Its layer of fat, crisscrossed with the knife marks of a deft hand, had rendered itself to a crisp veneer of char and seasoning. The duck was carved on the bias into quarter-inch slices and placed atop a painted stroke of reduced red wine. A layer of the sauce was poured atop the slices of duck, enough to taste the sauce, but never so much as to detract from the meat itself. What else can I say? The duck was all I had hoped for. It was perfect. My duck truck was a marvelous idea, if I may be so bold as to say so myself.

I picked myself up from the curb, brushed the fallen leaves from my long, black judicial robes, and returned the bone china plate and the golden utensils to their purveyor. I began to walk back up the walk to my chambers. Halfway to the door, I realized the cloth napkin hung still from my neck. I pulled the napkin from my collar and turned around to return to the truck and return the napkin. But I saw that my duck truck had dissipated into the mid-autumn air like a happy phantom.

I stood there for a moment, staring, pondering, before awaking in my chair of mustard velveteen—the one with the brass tacks. Perhaps I had dreamed. But, oh, what a dream!

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

Today we take up the question of  “The General” at Hometown Heros [sic] (HH). The General is described by the mobile gastronomic enterprise as “[t]hinly sliced steak, sautéed onions, peppers (green and banana), and provolone cheese, piled high on a sub roll, [lettuce], [tomato], [onion].” Because it is a sub, it is undoubtedly deserving of a presumption of affirmance in the absence of countervailing circumstances. See In re Wassub, 13 Catt. 1 (2012). The General is a monstrosity of a sandwich, and so, at $8.00, it is a very good deal, easily large enough to feed a herd of hungry Philadelphians. But that a dish offers both a good deal monetarily and a great deal gastronomically does not alone suffice to save what is, generally, an underwhelming sandwich. I must find the presumption of affirmance overcome in this case. For the reasons discussed below, I remand the case to HH for revision.

The General

First, equity demands that I acknowledge that I am not ordinarily the biggest fan of the cheesesteak. However, I feel I have previously demonstrated my ability to fairly consider, and even affirm, a cheesesteak-like offering. See Wassub, 13 Catt. 1. Accordingly, it is unnecessary to consider recusal.

The General presents as a sub roll piled high with a mountain of thinly sliced steak. The steak itself is not bad, per se, but is woefully under-seasoned. It is appropriately cooked, but it has no flavor profile whatsoever. That need not be the case. Beneath the mountain of steak was a layer of sautéed onions and green peppers drowning in a coating of black pepper that should have coated the meat as well. The two layers clearly never met on the griddle. The vegetables had no taste of meat; the meat had no taste of onion or pepper. Atop the mountain of meat was a snowcap of lukewarm, congealed cheese. I am told it was provolone, though the lump tasted only of congeal and processing. The bread was just fine.

One of my clerks prods me to note that the truck’s owner was a very nice and pleasant man. I agree with my clerk: he was indeed a model of amicable congeniality. And so I will end on that positive note.

REMANDED to Hometown Heros for revision. It is so ordered.

Our regular reader will know that quite a few Asian fusion failures have come across the lunch table of the Supreme Cart. Too often, this Cart has found that fusion offers nothing to the palate but confusion. See, e.g., In re TaKorean, 1 Catt. 4 (2011) (disappointing Korean tacos); In re Seoul Food, 3 Catt. 1 (2011) (unfocused Korean burrito bowl); In re Sâuçá, 4 Catt. 3 (2011) (really-missed-the-mark Middle Eastern bánh mì). Still, I line up in front of food trucks that serve fusion because I believe that–in the right kitchen, by the right hands–it can be made well.

The Korean taco, in particular, is a knockout in my head. I can see sizzling galbi or bulgogi meat and spicy kimchi wrapped in a lightly toasted corn tortilla. The picture in my head isn’t so clear on the garnishes. Maybe the taco includes onion, cilantro, and Sriracha. Maybe it has lettuce, tomato, onion, and a cilantro-based sauce. Maybe there are jalapenos somewhere. Certainly, there is never any cheese.

The Cart’s first foray into fusion involved a Korean taco. It did not go well. What could have been great ended up being a Sriracha-and-cilantro taco with barely any Korean marinated meat and very fake kimchi. TaKorean, 1 Catt. 4.

Today, I decide the second Korean taco case to come before the Cart. The vendor is the straightforwardly-named Kimchi BBQ Taco (“KBT”).

Kimchi BBQ Taco

 I. BURDEN OF PROOF

Because tacos are true “street food” as the Supreme Cart has defined the term, I must affirm KBT’s tacos unless I can show that they suffer from serious flaws. In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012) (explaining that a presumption of affirmance arises for true street food); In re Sol Mexican Grill, 9 Catt. 4 (2012) (holding that tacos are street food); 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”). I cannot prove that KBT’s tacos don’t belong on the street, and therefore I affirm.

II. KIMCHI BBQ TACO

KBT sells three tacos for $8. This is neither the best nor the worst price. TaKorean, 1 Catt. 4 (three tacos for $9); Sol Mexican Grill, 9 Catt. 4 (three tacos for $7); In re El Chilango, 12 Catt. 2 (2012) (three tacos for $6).

The ordering process requires two decisions. First, you have four meat options: 1) bulgogi; 2) spicy pork; 3) spicy chicken; or 4) tofu. Second, you choose your style of kimchi: 1) fresh red napa kimchi; 2) pan fried red napa kimchi; 3) sweet-n-spicy radish kimchi; or 4) bibimbap cabbage-carrot slaw. If you don’t want kimchi, you can opt for a sauce instead. There are two: 1) Korea’s Most Beloved Sauce (KMB); or 2) Korea’s Mad Spicy Sauce (KMS). KMB is described as “Sweet & Mild,” and KMS is “spicy but Dam [sic] Good.” (Okay, maybe there are three decisions that you have to make.)

Three Tacos

I ordered a bulgogi taco with fresh red napa kimchi, a spicy pork taco with bibimbap slaw, and a tofu taco with pan fried red napa kimchi. Each taco came with shredded lettuce, tomatoes, and generous drizzles of two sauces. One was mayo-based and spicy, and the other was a mix of sweet and spicy (perhaps Hoisin and Sriracha?).

I never really feel full after eating just tacos for lunch, but KBT’s tacos were larger in size than other tacos being sold on the streets. See TaKorean, 1 Catt. 4; Sol Mexican Grill, 9 Catt. 4. After finishing KBT’s tacos, I felt satisfied. (Yes, I could have eaten more, but I didn’t need to.)

At first glance, KBT’s tacos didn’t look like the Korean tacos in my head for one major reason. KBT used soft flour tortillas, not corn tortillas. Although I prefer the taste and texture of corn tortillas, KBT’s flour tortillas functioned well as a vehicle to contain the taco filling. The tortilla’s elasticity allowed it to mold around the filling and hold everything together.

Now, about that filling. All of the meats (let’s assume for our purposes that tofu is meat) were well-prepared. The bulgogi was sweet. The pork was tender and spicy. The tofu was surprisingly flavorful. Each taco came with a heaping of the chosen meat. KBT didn’t skimp.

Thankfully, KBT’s kimchi was real kimchi. Cf. Takorean, 1 Catt. 4 (using a vinegared, not fermented, garnish). The red napa kimchi was enjoyable, but it was too mild for me. I couldn’t tell the difference between the fresh and pan fried versions, especially after they were doused with the two sauces. KBT’s version of bibimbap slaw was not my favorite. Instead of KBT’s cabbage and carrots, I would have preferred a more traditional slaw of julienned carrots and daikon radishes.

The lettuce and tomatoes were mere stomach-fillers for me. Yes, I suppose they added a cool, light, and fresh element to the taco, but they made the taco feel too Tex-Mex for my liking. Plus, they took the focus away from the kimchi. KBT’s taco should follow the lead of its name: the main players in the taco should be the Korean barbecue and the kimchi.

The two sauces were spot on in terms of flavor. They kept a decent buzz in my mouth throughout the eating experience. However, they didn’t kick up the heat as much as I would have liked, and I wished I had added an extra squirt of Sriracha.

Between the two sauces and the juices oozing from the meat, the tacos were messy. Juices dripped into my hands. They dripped and dripped and pooled at the bottom of my Styrofoam container. By the time I got to my third taco, the tortilla was completely soaked in the drippings. It was a sticky mess to pick up, and my hands were coated with a caked-on layer all the way back to my chambers. (This could have been avoided if I had known to get extra napkins.)

III. CONCLUSION

KBT’s tacos were tasty, although they weren’t my dream Korean tacos. For me, the flour tortilla, lettuce, and tomatoes made them more Tex-Mex than Korean. But, I can say that they were the best Korean tacos that I’ve had so far. (N.B. I’ve only tried two Korean taco vendors so far.)

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

Opinion of JEREMY, C.J., in chambers.

Some months ago, I attended a judicial conference in New Orleans. While there, I had the privilege of eating at that grande dame of high Creole cuisine—Brennan’s—which I can only imagine takes its name from the late, great William J. Brennan, Jr., who so boldly and bravely sought to expand the concept of personal jurisdiction. With my sister and the Reporter of this Cart so mysteriously absent from our chambers this day, I take this opportunity to issue and publish a decision in the case of Brennan’s. I affirm.

I. JURISDICTION

Though the issue is clearly resolved in my mind, I will first take the time to silence those small-minded naysayers who may question whether Brennan’s falls within the jurisdiction of this Cart. Under Section 2 of the Judiciary Act of 2011 (Cartiorari Act), this Cart “shall have 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 by Act of [the] Congress assembled in the year of our Lord 1847.” It is from this statement that we take our own Rule of Procedure 1-2, which provides that “[t]he 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.” See In re China Garden, 5 Catt. 1 (2012). Brennan’s clearly falls within our jurisdiction.

Southern Baked Apple with Cream

The jurisdictional test contains three elements. First, the establishment under a consideration must be a “mobile gastronomic enterprise[].” Second, it must be located in Arlington, Alexandria, or the District of Columbia. Third, it must be “reasonably proximate to public transportation of a reasonably rapid and efficient character.” I consider each in turn.

A. “Mobile Gastronomic Enterprise”

First, Brennan’s is, of course, a “gastronomic enterprise” as it as a business purveying Creole culinary creations. But it also a “mobile” gastronomic enterprise. Brennan’s lies on the North American plate, and, as every schoolboy knows, the tectonic plates are in constant flux, moving atop the asthenosphere like blobs of wax in a lava lamp. Even if we accept that Brennan’s is a discrete point upon the solid Earth, the solid Earth revolves around its axis, such that, at any given moment, any discrete terrestrial point occupies a different location in the Universe than it did the moment before. Furthermore, the Earth revolves around the Sun, further multiplying the infinity of locations in the Universe which Brennan’s has occupied since opening in 1946.

B. Located in Arlington, Alexandria, or the District of Columbia

Second, Brennan’s must be located in Arlington, Alexandria, or the District of Columbia. Because the Earth and its tectonic plates are in constant flux throughout the Universe, it is more likely than not that Brennan’s has occupied or will someday occupy a place in the Universe which was once or will someday be somewhere within the combined boundaries of Arlington, Alexandria, and the District of Columbia. In fact, this proposition is easily provable. It is generally accepted that, “[t]hrough the calculations begun by Edwin P. Hubble on the galaxies’ velocity of recession, we can establish the moment when all the universe’s matter was concentrated in a single point, before it began to expand in space.” Italo Calvino, “All at One Point,” COSMICOMICS at 43 (1965). In fact, Federal Rule of Evidence 803(16) allows to admit into the record the recollection of one “old Qfwfq,” who  Calvino notes as having recounted: “Naturally we were all there, . . . where else could we have been? . . . Every point of each us coincided with every point of each of the others in a single point, which was where we all were.” Id. Therefore, there is more than a mere scintilla of evidence in favor of the proposition that Brennan’s was, once, coextensive with all points and all matter now contained within the boundaries of our jurisdiction. Cf. Richardson v. Perales, 402 U.S. 389, 401 (1971). That evidence is substantial enough for the purposes of establishing the jurisdiction of this Supreme Cart.

C. “Reasonably Proximate to Public Transportation of a Reasonably Rapid and Efficient Character”

Third, Brennan’s must be “reasonably proximate to public transportation of a reasonably rapid and efficient character.” The network of streetcars in New Orleans is operated by the New Orleans Regional Transit Authority (“RTA”). The RTA was established by the Louisiana State Legislature and is, to some degree, accountable to the body politic. The RTA is therefore “public” and the network of streetcars it controls “public transportation.” Brennan’s is located at 417 Royal Street, less than a mile from the Canal Street, Riverfront, and St. Charles Avenue Lines of the New Orleans streetcar network. Brennan’s is therefore “reasonably proximate” to public transportation. Whether that transportation is “of a reasonably rapid and efficient character” is, to be sure, subject to debate. But I would find that determination to a political question, best answered by other institutions, and therefore nonjusticiable. Cf. Baker v. Carr, 369 U.S. 186 (1962). The City of New Orleans and the RTA would likely deem the streetcar network to be “rapid” and “efficient,” and this Cart must accept that determination.

Eggs Hussarde

II. STREET FOOD

Our second inquiry is whether we are considering proper “street food,” i.e., 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 Brennan’s offers “street food,” those offerings must be affirmed unless this Cart can prove otherwise. See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012). At first blush, the food served at Brennan’s cannot be deemed “street food” as this Cart has defined that term. While that food can be cooked in the diner’s presence (see discussion of bananas Foster below), it is certainly not “meant to be eaten with your hands, without forks, while standing up.” Brennan’s is the stuff of white tablecloths and fabric napkins.

But we have held that our Eat Wonky test is “not intended to affirmatively define the entire class of ‘street food’ . . . .” In re Hot People Food, 6 Catt. 4 (2012). The fact is, Brennan’s serves its food to its diners in a grand old building fronting on Royal Street. Only a pea-brained, reactionary strict constructionist could attempt to explain how “food” served alongside a “street” is not thereby “street food.” The presumption of affirmance must apply here. But even if it did not, I have no doubt I would still find in favor of Brennan’s.

Bananas Foster

III. GASTRONOMY

The petty and piddling matter of jurisdiction out of the way, we may safely progress to the substance of the matter: Brennan’s lavish breakfast. Lavish is an understatement as breakfast at Brennan’s is, in fact, a three-course affair. Luckily we justices are festooned with flowing black robes which graciously allow for an expanding corpulence and, given their color, provide an overall slimming effect. I opted for the following: (1) Southern baked apple with cream, (2) eggs Hussarde, and (3) bananas Foster, with a refreshing mimosa providing lubrication of mind and discourse throughout the repast. The Southern baked apple with cream was a thing of significant decadence. Sweet and luscious, it paved the way for the deep and profound savor of the eggs Hussarde (“A Brennan’s Original!”). Eggs Hussarde is essentially eggs Benedict with the addition of Marchand du Vin sauce—a rich and beefy Creole concoction. The final course was, naturally, Brennan’s most famous gift to gastronomy—Bananas Foster—complete with its dramatic table service.

That brings me to another point: service. Ordinarily, I am no stickler for service. In fact, as I have stated before, “I often find that the best restaurants are those with long waits and terrible service.” In re Hot People Food, 6 Catt. 4 (2012); see also In re Sol Mexican Grill, 9 Catt. 4 (2012); In re El Floridano, 2 Catt. 2 (2011). Sometimes, however, good service is worth noting. See Hot People Food, 6 Catt. 4; In re Doug the Food Dude, 5 Catt. 3 (2012). This is one such case. Brennan’s sustains the old restaurant traditions: white tablecloths, kindly wait staff in formalwear, intricate table service involving flaming liqueurs. All in all, Brennan’s conjures memories of a time when fine restaurants were as theatres.

 IV. CONCLUSION

An unusually judgmental person, I find myself unable find any fault with Brennan’s. My plates returned quite clean to the kitchen, and my soul was satisfied. I gave repeated thanks to the Graces for so kindly providing me with an opportunity to visit New Orleans and enjoy a breakfast at Brennan’s. For these reasons, the case of Brennan’s is

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

Before the Cart is Red Hook Lobster Pound (“RHLP”), a food truck that is known on the street for its pricey lobster rolls. This food truck is no stranger to the Cart—we have already spilled ink on the topic of the $15 roll. See In re Red Hook Lobster Pound, 2 Catt. 1 (2011). In that opinion, we noted that RHLP’s menu also featured an $8 shrimp roll. We quickly dismissed the option, however. “[N]o one in their right mind orders shrimp over lobster,” we said. Id. Well, I was not in my right mind one afternoon, and I ordered the shrimp roll. (Actually, my mind was not “wrong.” It was just all too aware of my many expenses for the month, such as paying my newly-hired law clerk.)

Red Hook Lobster Pound

The first draft of my review of RHLP’s shrimp roll was very short. “It was good,” I wrote, “but it was not lobster.” I discarded that draft because it wasn’t fair. It was like comparing apples with oranges, steamed tofu with chicken fried steak, Carrot Top with Tupac, Wuthering Heights with Pride and Prejudice. It was also doing a disservice to those who wanted a real review of RHLP’s shrimp roll and wouldn’t be satisfied with “Take your $8, eat peanut butter and jelly one day to save another $7, and then treat yourself to a lobster roll.”

So I offer to you, loyal reader, my real review of the lobster roll’s oft-ignored cousin, the shrimp roll. To make the shrimp filling, RHLP tosses wild Maine shrimp in a homemade garlic tarragon mayonnaise. The sweet pieces of Maine shrimp were tiny (less than an inch long), but wonderfully sweet. The mayo dressing was lightly applied and didn’t hide the freshness of the shrimp. The taste of tarragon was evident, but it was not overpowering as often occurs with the intensely-flavored herb.

Shrimp Roll

Although the shrimp filling was executed quite well, the bread left a stronger impression with me. I have previously raved about RHLP’s bread. See Red Hook Lobster Pound, 2 Catt. 1 (Cattleya, J., concurring). I wrote, “The buttered bread developed perfect grill marks and a toasty outside, leaving behind a slightly crisp layer into which my teeth could sink with satisfaction. At the same time, the bread was just thick enough so that the inside was still soft and pillowy.”Id. Luckily for me (and for you), the bread is the same whether you order the lobster or shrimp roll. Again, there was the delicious buttery taste . . . the toasted exterior . . . the pillowy interior. Just thinking about it makes my mouth water! (The attentive reader will by now have noticed how easily satisfied I am by a great piece of bread. See, e.g., In re Lemongrass, 7 Catt. 1 (2012); In re Rolling Ficelle, 6 Catt. 3 (2012).)

The bottom line is that RHLP’s shrimp roll was good . . . but it was not lobster. (Yeah, yeah, I know what I just did there. See supra.) The shrimp roll did not knock my knee high socks off like the lobster roll did. I would be lying if I said that I hadn’t been thinking about the lobster roll while I was eating the shrimp roll. (And by “thinking” I mean “wishing that I had gotten the lobster roll.”) But if I were living in a world where RHLP’s lobster roll didn’t exist, I would be quite happy to share my lunch break with the shrimp roll.

A note about the portion and price: At $8, RHLP’s shrimp roll is comparably priced to other sandwiches on the street. See, e.g., In re Willie’s Po Boy, 7 Catt. 4 (2012) ($9 crawfish sandwich); Lemongrass, 7 Catt. 1 ($7.50 pork sandwich); In re El Floridano, 2 Catt. 2 (2011) ($7 pork sandwich); Rolling Ficelle, 6 Catt. 3 ($6.95 ham sandwich); In re Bada Bing, 5 Catt. 2 (2012) ($6.50 chicken sandwich). But unlike some of these sandwiches, the shrimp roll will leave you hungry. That’s not to say that the shrimp roll isn’t worth its price tag. It is. It’s just that you might find yourself standing in front of the vending machine at 3:30pm. (If you do and can’t decide while you’re staring at the rows of salty snacks and sweet candy, may I suggest Cheetos or Cheez-Its? They’re my personal favorites.)

I will now address an issue that I should have addressed at the beginning of this opinion. (I can feel the Chief Justice rolling his eyes at my oversight.) When reviewing a food truck’s offerings, this Supreme Cart determines whether the offering is “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). Street food is entitled to the presumption that it should be affirmed by this court. In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012). It is well-settled that sandwiches, under which category the shrimp roll fits, is street food. See Willie’s Po Boy, 7 Catt. 4; Rolling Ficelle, 6 Catt. 3; Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2. Therefore, RHLP is entitled to the presumption that its shrimp roll should be affirmed by the Cart. But, as should be clear by the reasons stated in this opinion, even without this presumption, RHLP’s shrimp roll—on its own merits—would be affirmed.

AFFIRMED. It is so ordered.

Smithsonian magazine recently compiled a list of the twenty best food trucks in the United States. From the region within this Supreme Cart’s jurisdiction, one made the list: fojol bros. of Merlindia (“FB”). After reading Smithsonian’s list, I rushed over to FB’s truck to see what the hoopla was all about.

FB is “a traveling culinary carnival” with three separate trucks from “distant lands”: Indian food from Merlindia, Ethiopian food from Benethiopia, and Thai food from Volathai. Following its “carnival” vision, the folks aboard the trucks wear mustaches and colorful costumes. A hula hoop even leaned against the truck’s side, waiting for anyone who wanted to try it. FB is clearly having a good time, but did its food live up to its creative concept?

fojol bros.

My culinary adventure was hosted by Merlindia. The items on the Merlindian menu are served over basmati rice. I opted for the “Pick 2” ($8) and chose the (1) butter chicken and (2) spinach & cheese. If you’re less or more hungry, you can get a “Dingo Bite” for $2 or the “Pick 3” for $11.

Since my platter of meat, rice and veggies was not true “street food,” FB is not entitled to the presumption that its offerings should be affirmed. See In re Eat Wonky (The Whoopie Pie Case), 2 Catt. 5 (2011) (explaining 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”); see also In re Salt and Pepper Grill, 8 Catt. 2 (2012) (finding that a similar platter of Indian food was not street food). Therefore, I now consider the merits of FB’s butter chicken and spinach & cheese.

Butter Chicken with Spinach & Cheese

FB’s butter chicken was excellent. It was well-seasoned and very tasty. The spice-level was perfect. It was more medium than mild, and I sensed the heat right away. The chunks of chicken were moist and tender, and I was easily able to cut the pieces with the spork that FB provided. FB also scooped up a generous spoonful of sauce to mix with the rice.

The basmati rice was better than the standard heap that often finds its way onto plates of Indian food. No dried-out grains here. It was fluffy (dare I say even almost sticky?) and felt like it had been freshly-prepared. (It probably was, as I was fourth in line after the window had opened for the day.)

The spinach & cheese was not to my liking. The pureed spinach was wonderfully thick and the pieces of paneer cheese were aplenty, but the flavor carried a heavy earthiness that did not appeal.

For the reasons stated above,

I AFFIRM in part and REMAND in part to fojol bros. for revision. It is so ordered.

The first time that I lined up in front of Salt and Pepper Grill (“SPG”), the chicken tikka masala was already gone. See In re Salt and Pepper Grill, 6 Catt. 1 (2012). The second time that I stopped by the truck, the chicken tikka masala had not yet run out, but the basmati rice had. On my third trip to SPG, there was basmati rice and chicken tikka masala. Finally! So the question is: Was SPG’s chicken tikka masala worth the wait?

Salt and Pepper Grill

 I. STREET FOOD

This Supreme Cart presumes that a dish should be affirmed if it constitutes “street food.” See In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012). 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). This Cart has already determined that SPG’s meat-and-rice platters are not street food. See Salt and Pepper Grill, 6 Catt. 1. Therefore, I will pursue the issue no further.

II. COMBO WITH CHICKEN TIKKA MASALA

SPG’s chicken tikka masala combo ($7.99) comes with basmati rice, naan, and salad. SPG was kind enough to allow me to make a substitution: palak paneer instead of salad. I address each component of the platter below.

Chicken Tikka Masala

 A. Chicken Tikka Masala

The chicken tikka masala, though not heavily spiced, was enjoyable. The creamy, tomato-based sauce was spicy, but the spice was slow-building rather than immediate. I would have preferred a bigger kick of paprika. There were large chunks of chicken, which were not overcooked or dry.

B. Palak Paneer

See Salt and Pepper Grill, 6 Catt. 1. My high opinion of SPG’s palak paneer remains the same. I recommend skipping the salad and requesting this in its place.

C. Basmati Rice

There is not much to say about the basmati rice because it was as it should have been. My only complaint was that the rice-to-meat ratio was off — I was left with a lot of rice after my chicken tikka masala had disappeared. If the number of chicken chunks cannot be increased, perhaps in the future there can be a more generous serving of sauce? The kid in me who enjoyed rice smothered in ketchup would probably also like rice swimming in orange-colored sauce.

D. Naan

Unlike the roti I previously sampled from SPG, see Salt and Pepper Grill, 6 Catt. 1,  the naan was made well. It was soft and chewy in the right kind of way.

Although I’ve had better versions of chicken tikka masala, I will probably return to SPG the next time I have a hankering for Indian food during my lunch hour. It was good enough, I got it quickly, and I got a lot of food for my money.

AFFIRMED in part and REMANDED in part to Salt and Pepper Grill for revision. It is so ordered.

Basil Thyme (“BT”) is a food truck that “serves fresh from-scratch pasta/Lasagna, sauces and dessert.” Up for review today is BT’s combo special, which includes a pasta entrée, side salad, dessert, and drink. For my entrée, I chose the “Guissepe” lasagna. The dessert of the day was a chocolate cannoli.

I must start with a confession: When I first spotted BT on the street many months ago, I walked right by it. I thought, “I cook pasta for dinner at least three times per week, and I don’t want to buy from a food truck what I can make for myself at home.” But the truth is that I can’t really compare my homemade pasta bakes with BT’s lasagna. I certainly don’t make lasagna from scratch, and even if I did, it probably wouldn’t be as good as BT’s. My stomach is glad that I was very wrong about BT.

Basil Thyme

 I. STREET FOOD

First, I must determine whether BT’s combo special is “street food.” This Supreme 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.” In re Eat Wonky (The Whoopie Pie Case), 2 Catt. 5 (2011). This is important because if BT’s combo special is “street food,” then a presumption arises that [the combo special] should be affirmed” and “the burden of proof lies entirely with the Supreme Cart to prove that [it] should be remanded to [BT] for revision.” In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012).

Although the Supreme Cart has not yet considered a combo special consisting of lasagna and salad, it is similar to other platters that have failed our “street food” test. See, e.g., In re NY Famous Kabob, 7 Catt. 3 (2012) (finding that a platter containing meat-over-rice and salad was not street food). A look at the main factors of the “street food” analysis supports the hunch that BT’s combo special is not street food. First, although a salad can be tossed in front of a food truck’s waiting customer, lasagna cannot be cooked within the minute or so that a customer steps up to a food truck. Second, neither lasagna nor salad is meant to be eaten without forks. Indeed, BT offers a fork to its customer. Third, lasagna and salad are not intended to be eaten by the customer while standing up. The standing position can be especially awkward and uncomfortable for the customer who likes to use a knife to cut smaller pieces.

BT’s cannoli does not constitute “street food” either. Although the dessert is meant to be picked up with the hands and can be eaten while standing up, the fried-and-filled pastry is not meant to be made in front of the customer. In fact, BT’s cannoli is similar to the pre-made whoopie pie that triggered our “street food” test in the first place. See Eat Wonky, 2 Catt. 5.

BT’s combo special is not entitled to the presumption that it should be affirmed as true “street food.” However, BT’s lasagna, salad, and cannoli proved to be pleasing to my palate, and I affirm.

II. COMBO SPECIAL

Guissepe Lasagna, Side Salad, Cannoli & Drink (Combo Special)

A. Guissepe Lasagna

BT’s from-scratch Guissepe lasagna is made with black truffles and gorgonzola. The truffle-and-cheese pairing was well-chosen, as the gorgonzola brought out the flavor of the truffles. Moreover, the gorgonzola was an inspired choice for the lasagna because it melted very well, leaving behind just the right amount of gooeyness. Not all mobile sellers of cheese dishes have found good melting cheeses, see In re Big Cheese, 6 Catt. 2 (2012), so BT is to be commended for this.

Note: The Guissepe lasagna a la carte costs $9. For an extra $2, you can get it with Portobello.

 B. Salad

The salad was impressive. It was made with fresh greens, cucumber slices, shredded carrots, roasted red peppers, Kalamata olives, shavings of Parmesan, and a light vinaigrette dressing. Compared to all the iceberg lettuce salads out on the streets, see, e.g., In re 1st Yellow Vendor, 4 Catt. 2 (2011); In re Ali Khan Express, 3 Catt. 5 (2011);  In re Tasty Kabob, 3 Catt. 4 (2011), this salad was a surprising and welcomed addition to my Styrofoam container.

C. Chocolate Cannoli

Chocolate Cannoli

BT makes its cannolis with “house-made Ricotta.” The chocolate filling was rich and creamy. The shell still had a bite to it and was not soggy. My only complaint: I would have liked a light sprinkling of confectioner’s sugar to top it off.

Note: A cannoli a la carte costs $3.

III. PORTION SIZE

Much ink has been spilled over whether BT’s portions are too small. I will add to the dialogue by saying that on first glance, the lasagna serving appeared on the small side, especially when juxtaposed with the larger serving of salad. But after eating the lasagna and salad, I was in that happy place where I was satisfied, not too stuffed, and could move on to dessert without feeling very bad. (In other words, if I had been in the mood to pig out on carbs, I probably would have been disappointed and wished I had gone to BT another day.)

 IV. CONCLUSION

 BT’s $10 combo special — with lasagna, salad, cannoli, and drink — is a solid deal. Since BT prices its lasagnas at $9, you basically get a salad, cannoli, and drink for an additional $1. (The exception is the Guissepe lasagna with Portobello. It costs $11 a la carte and $12 with the combo special.)

Everything was done well, and the ingredients were of good quality. I wouldn’t say that BT’s food is unique enough to reach the level of “food you absolutely must try,” but if you’re going to get lunch anyway and want a good meal for your money, then head over to BT’s truck and bring a Hamilton with you for the combo special.

A final note: BT readies and bags the customer’s meal very quickly (about a minute), so don’t let a long-looking line scare you away.

Affirmed. It is so ordered.

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.

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.

In this opinion, I must consider the question of Doug the Food Dude’s (“DFD”) parmesan-crusted salmon over cabana rice, a $9.00 heaping helping of lettuce and “the Dude’s cabana rice” beneath a salmon fillet and a “pineapple mango sauce.” Initially, I was leery of trying this particular dish, for four reasons:

1. One should never eat any dish whose name contains the word “fiesta” (e.g., fiesta meatloaf, fiesta chicken dinner, fiesta pie, and fiesta fondue). Usually “fiesta” is code for Velveeta, Ro-Tel, and an entire packet of taco seasoning. Usually “fiesta” dishes are billed as a party in one’s mouth. Unfortunately, the party usually turns south and, in my experience, ends in a rather abrupt scurry to the nearest restroom. “Cabana,” while certainly not equivalent to “fiesta,” comes perilously close to “fiesta” in connotation.
2. I like pineapple. I like mango. However, I am not a fan of pineapple salsa, nor am I fan of mango salsa. As if to taunt me, this dish is topped with a sauce containing both pineapple and mango. God help us all.
3. Food trucks are very good at many things. I would not be Chief Justice of the Supreme Cart if I did not respect the mobile gastronomic enterprise. And indeed, during my tenure as Chief Justice, this Cart has handed down a good many affirmations of a good many food truck creations. However, the food truck, by its mobile and confined nature, lends itself better to certain dishes over others. My sister said it best: “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.” 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). A salmon fillet, while well and good, (1) is not ordinarily cooked in front of you, (2) is not ordinarily meant to be eaten with one’s hands, (3) is ordinarily eaten with a fork, and (4) is not ordinarily eaten while standing up. Thus, this dish, from the outset, fails to meet any single element of our Eat Wonky test for determining whether street food, is, in fact, “street food” as we understand that term.
4. The Dude is known as “The Dude.” I half-expected an unkempt Jeff Bridges, in a dirty robe and sunglasses, serving me salmon, glugging from a milk carton.

Nevertheless, my clerks informed me that, if I am to sample DFD, I absolutely must try the Dude’s parmesan-crusted salmon over cabana rice. And so, ever faithful servant to the cause of Justice that I am, I did just that.

I really wanted to like this dish, if only because the Dude is such a nice and personable guy. In fact, he is nothing like his Big Lebowski comrade-in-moniker. Even on a drab and drizzly day, the Dude was friendly and exuberant and eager to converse with his customers. Moreover, there was no robe and no milk carton. And so, I’ll begin with a positive: the price-to-quantity ratio. For $9.00, you get a lot of food. A hell of a lot.

So there’s that.

Parmesan Crusted Salmon over Cabana Rice

But now, regrettably, I must pass to less pleasant holdings. As we often do, I evaluate each element of the dish separately, before concluding. See, e.g., In re TaKorean, 1 Catt. 4 (2011).

Lettuce. Lettuce sat in pieces at the bottom of my clear plastic container, beneath the warm cabana rice. Unfortunately, the warm cabana rice caused the lettuce to wilt considerably. The lettuce was at best extraneous and at worst distracting.

Cabana Rice. I am happy to report that a “cabana” dish need not carry the same consequences as “fiesta” dish. The rice was well cooked and sufficiently flavorful. Much to my pleasure, I have nothing negative to say about the cabana rice.

Salmon Fillet. Dry. Quite dry and overcooked, as I expected it might be. Also underseasoned. Non-street food (i.e., food that does not satisfy our Eat Wonky test) is often ill-suited for this milieu. At best, to prepare and purvey non-street food in a street food setting is a considerable risk. In this case, the gamble did not pay off.

Parmesan Crust. Also dry. In my experience, a parmesan crust is ordinarily made from grated parmesan and plays a role similar to flour in the dredging process. Unfortunately, the Dude seems to have used shredded parmesan instead. Parmesan is not particularly a melting cheese, and so the parmesan crust ended up a leathery overcoat.

Pineapple Mango Sauce. As I have said before, I am no fan of pineapple-based sauces, nor of mango-based sauces, and so I am certainly no fan of pineapple mango sauces. I am thus not a good judge of whether DFD’s pineapple mango sauce was, in fact, a good pineapple mango sauce for those who enjoy such things, and so I will reserve judgment.

Though I very much enjoyed the person of the Dude, I did not enjoy his gastronomy nearly so much. Therefore, it is with considerable regret that I must cause this dish to be

REMANDED to Doug the Food Dude for revision. It is so ordered.

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.

I am considerably shocked and outraged at the ease and downright gall with which my sister has decided In re Tasty Kabob, 3 Catt. 4 (2011). She has done so in chambers, without my input, while I was briefly absent due to a seminar I was conducting at the University of Fribourg. She has done so on the premise that “[t]he lamb-loving Chief Justice” (as if that were an insult) has, in the past “refused to recuse himself” in a case involving Tasty Kabob. In that case, I responded to my sister’s insinuations of impartiality that she herself has sat in cases where some culinary infatuation might, in theory, have impeded her capacity to reason fairly and objectively. She has responded, in her own way, with her opinion in Tasty Kabob, writing that, despite her infamous “penchant for orange cheese,” she “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). She writes that she 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). She states, plainly, that until I “display[] a similar ability not to be automatically swayed by lamb dishes, [she] will take the temptation out of [my] hands.” Tasty Kabob, 3 Catt. 4. But by her logic, the only way I could prove my objectivity would be to criticize every bite of lamb that passed my lips. To do so would be to make a mockery of justice. How this is better than merely affirming every sampling of lamb my sister never clarifies. And so I decline her invitation, saying only that her “objectivity” is, in truth, no objectivity at all.

If such roguery continues, I might be tempted to call upon Congress to impeach my sister. As it now stands, I am wont to refuse to recognize Tasty Kabob as having any legal effect before this Cart. But I am loathe to deny TK the affirmance it received under this Cart’s imprimatur. I will allow it to stand.

Nevertheless, I retaliate by writing my own opinion in chambers, so that the “temptation” to further violate the Rules of Procedure of this august body and of the laws of this land be taken “out of [my sister’s] hands.”  To quote my sister, on the issue of Ali Khan Express’s (“AKE”) lamb over rice, I likewise “ate alone.”

Lamb Over Rice

AKE is a “mobile gastronomic enterprise” found weekdays at the corner of 20th Street and Crystal Drive in Crystal City. AKE’s lamb over rice is, in fact, similar to TK’s lamb and rice. It is, in short, a partitioned Styrofoam container containing long-grain rice beneath copious slivers of shawarma/döner/gyro/tarna meat. There is a generous ladling of chick peas in a tomato-based sauce. There is a side salad of iceberg lettuce and beefsteak tomatoes. All of this is covered with “white sauce” and “hot sauce.” A piece of flatbread completes the meal.

The lamb was served in chunks, rather than sliced or shaved. It was a little fatty (a good thing). It was not heavily spiced, but it was well made and sported a good texture. The rice was long-grain, presumably basmati. Its flavor was rather interesting. Some aromatic was involved in its preparation—nutmeg or mace, perhaps. And there was some acidity—lemon juice or yogurt, perhaps. Quite good, and beriani-like. The chick peas were a bit less spiced than I might expect. They were in a tomato-based, slightly peppery sauce. Like Tasty Kabob’s they were “still a bit firm and not mushy at all.” Cf. Tasty Kabob, 3 Catt. 4. The “white sauce” seemed to be mayonnaise-based rather than yogurt-based. The sauce served its purpose but was nothing to write home about, though it paired well enough with the “hot sauce” (Texas Pete, probably). The salad tasted just like one would expect iceberg lettuce and beefsteak tomatoes to taste. It is superfluous, but not offensive. The bread was a goodly piece of flatbread bearing may eight sesame seeds. It tasted a bit like a flattened piece of Italian bread. It was sufficient to sop up the sauce from the chickpeas, but, like the “white sauce” was nothing to write home about.

At $7, AKE’s lamb over rice was, as my sister has said, “a solid deal.” Cf. Tasty Kabob, 3 Catt. 4. AKE provides quite a hefty portion. While I also “cleaned off my white Styrofoam container completely,” doing so rendered supper unnecessary.

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.

Seoul Food (“SF”), run by a husband-and-wife duo, dishes up Korean and Japanese fusion cuisine. With a menu of items like caramelized kimchi rolls and kalbi burritos, I approached this truck hesitantly. As this Cart has seen in the past, fusion can be a disaster. See In re TaKorean, 1 Catt. 4 (2011). But positive reviews elsewhere convinced me to give fusion another chance, and so I found myself in front of SF’s brightly-painted truck one afternoon.

Seoul Food

SF’s owners were about to leave as I approached the truck, but they were very kind and stayed to make me a Korean Superbowl first. The $8 superbowl consisted of “sticky rice, bulgogi marinaded [sic] steak, . . . jalapeño & Serrano relish, caramelized kimchi, scallion, queso fresco, cheddar, [and] Korean salsa roja.” (Note to non-red meat eaters: You can select chicken instead of bulgogi.)

Korean Superbowl

All of the individual ingredients in the superbowl were of the highest quality. When mixed together, however, too many ingredients got lost. Here’s how everything broke down:

Bulgogi. The superbowl was topped with a fair number of thick bulgogi strips. When I bit into the meat, I could feel from its tender texture that it had been cooked perfectly. This skilled preparation, however, was a bit wasted because I couldn’t taste the bulgogi. The heat of other ingredients (see below) overpowered the bulgogi’s flavoring.

Sticky rice. The rice was just the way I like it: sticky and chewy. Cf. In re AZNeats, 2 Catt. 3 (2011). At first, I thought that there was too much rice and too little of everything else—but that was before I realized that I would need the rice to neutralize the heat of other ingredients (see below).

Kimchi, Serrano relish, Korean salsa roja, jalapeños. SF’s kimchi tasted like it came from a Korean family’s kitchen. This was real kimchi, fermented and all. Cf. TaKorean, 1 Catt. 4.  Combined together, the kimchi, Serrano relish, Korean salsa roja, and jalapeños were fiery hot. I’m talking about watery-eyes-and-runny-nose kind of heat.

Cheddar, scallion. The sprinkling of shredded cheddar and chopped scallion contributed very little to the superbowl. In fact, the only thing these ingredients added was color. I could not taste them—not even a little—over the heat of other ingredients (see above).

All I got from SF’s Korean Superbowl was a whole lot of heat. Even if you like spicy food, I suggest approaching this dish armed with a box of tissues and without any water nearby. For me, SF’s superbowl went the way of many Korean fusion creations that came before it: confusion. See TaKorean, 1 Catt. 4.

(I want to note that, despite the confusion of fusion, it was evident SF used top-quality ingredients and prepared them well. For this reason, I will return again, but when I do, I’ll stick to the more traditional bibimbap on the menu.)

I remand to Seoul Food for revision. It is so ordered.