The Blair Shish-kebab Project

A few weeks ago, on a cold, dark NYC evening, around 11 p.m., as I waited for the bus the unthinkable dawned on me - "I, a self-proclaimed Foody, had forgotten to eat dinner.  Horrifying, unacceptable, unforgivable!"  Three M11 buses passed me by without stopping, as if they could no longer see me - a skinny, malnourished shadow of my former self, the result of skipping dinner.

As I began walking uptown towards my apartment, passing by an empty, boarded-up lot, a familiar scent and the flickering flame from roasting meats lured me towards what I was sure could only be a mirage in the harsh NYC concrete-desert.

Alas, a mirage it was not! A delicious Halal Meat Stand greeted me with open arms full of warm pita, roasting meats, spiced rice and secret sauces.  I quickly and diligently ordered - a lamb and chicken gyro w/ french fries (in the gyro of course)- and hopped in a cab so I could enjoy the feast at my apt.  As the cab drove away, the tasty oasis disappeared into the dark city night, perhaps to never be found again...

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A few days ago, I was wandering around the City, enjoying a beautiful 60-degree March afternoon, when my senses perked and alerted my brain and body that "you have been in this area before, and something great happened here - proceed alertly."  I quickly evaluated my surroundings and instantly knew it to be true: I was in the vicinity of my late-night, Halal-meat-serving, concrete oasis.  I began walking briskly, anticipating the spicy and cool combination of the secret sauces which would soon be bathing my street meat.  I turned the corner, and to my utter disappointment, the stand was nowhere to be found - it had disappeared into the cityscape.  A bum was pulling that day's NY Times from a garbage pail where the Stand once stood.

Perhaps it really WAS all just a mirage.  Did it ever really happen? Was it all just a hunger-induced fantasy?

I arrived at my apt., settled on a PB&J sandwich in lieu of the mythical Halal meal which eluded me, and changed into my gray Nike sweatshirt.  Just then, the ultimate moment of Foody affirmation occured.  I looked down and to both my delight and dismay, none other than a secret sauce stain remained on my sweatshirt- staring me in the face and mocking my futile effort to re-experience that moment of street-meat nirvana.  Upon sniffing the stain (I swear I didn't taste it, no matter how badly I missed and craved the secret sauce) I immediately recognized the sweet waft of street meat once enjoyed, and I knew that on that fateul night a few weeks back I had indeed found the ever elusive, late-night, street meat oasis.

They say if you roam the streets of the Lower West Side at just the right hour of the night, you can still hear the wind, dancing majestically between the skyscrapers, whisper softly, "lamb & chicken combo, $4..."

Oh and by the way, the actual food was excellent.  Standard Halal cart food, but that's always unquestionably, reliably delicious!!!