Poutine and food carts

Potato Champion is, for me (having lived in the city between 2012 and 2017), the definitive food cart of Portland, Oregon. It's synonymous with "Cartopia," the "original food cart pod" of Portland, itself the definitive food cart city of America.

The menu today, found online, reads much the same as it did when I first placed an order over a decade ago: plain fries, poutine, satay poutine, and PB&J fries; a dozen dipping sauces ($1 each); a few add-on toppings; and drinks. I remember, just a week into my freshman year of college, hearing about this place "on the east side of the river," a food cart that "only served french fries" — this information relayed in awe among wide-eyed, culture-starved 18-year-olds exploring the city for the first time.

Everything on the menu went down a treat, but that satay poutine lingers in my memory, delicious as it was representative of the experimental "fusion" in the local food cart scene's DNA. That Thai peanut sauce — hot on the palate, rich in texture, noxious on the breath, available after midnight. Only it's not available beyond 11:00 PM anymore, even on weekends — a pandemic hangover, surely.

Right out of college, looking for work as a cook in Portland's outsize restaurant scene, with no experience to speak of and funds running low, I heard back from Garden Monsters, a food cart at the "Tidbit" food cart pod on SE 28th and Division.

The owner, bless him, called me back days after I'd accepted a job at ramen shop Noraneko, the now-shuttered late-night joint loyal readers will remember from a previous Lunch. I did not want to stand stooped in a food cart making build-your-own salads all day. Thank you, Chef James of Noraneko.

"Tidbit," incidentally, shuttered in late 2017. It's now a condo complex called "Division Terrace."

In Portland — where, granted, I've not set foot in seven years — The Food Cart sits on an artisan pedestal. In New York, it's more utilitarian — more pointedly a survival tool for operator and customer alike.

In Portland, a food cart permit costs $75 per year. As recently as 2022, in Multnomah County — population 803,377 as of 2021, constituting most of Portland proper and beyond — there were 1,093 licensed mobile food businesses.

As of this past October, New York City officials had issued only 14 new mobile food vending permits in 2023. Some 5,100 permits were active in the city of 8.7 million people, and vendors were forced to pay as much as $20,000 on the black market to secure one of the limit-capped licenses.

Is "The Dream of The 90s" still alive in Portland? Probably not. Is "The American Dream" still alive in New York? Also probably not.

My definitive New York food cart is whichever is open late and close by when I'm hungry: The Big Boss Mexican Food Truck on Myrtle, for example. Sammy's Halal Food on Bedford and North 6th. The Grand Street Skewer Cart.

The point is to eat the food and remember to leave a tip.