This week I thought I’d take a cue from Jared Fogle, of acclaimed Subway fame, and start my own sub sandwich diet. But rather than jump on the Subway bandwagon a decade too late, I decided to support Austin’s neighborhood trailer sub shop, Short Bus Subs.

Of course, my resolve was detained by a couple of days due to other trailers, so really my diet began mid-week. On Tuesday I waddled over to the bright yellow school bus at Mueller to pick up a Teacher’s Pet, a turkey sandwich with a twist. Always a straight-A student myself, in high school my sack lunches consisted of whole-wheat sandwiches with a few chaste pieces of sandwich meat. Oh, what I was missing! The thick mound of sliced smoked turkey, the generous slatherings of cream cheese and mashed avocado, the crispy cracklings of bacon. And don’t forget the salsa, tomatoes, and shredded lettuce on top (I am on a diet, after all). Put together on a toasty hoagie roll, the sandwich more than satisfied.

On Wednesday I went with the jalapeño chicken sandwich, having read in Cosmo long ago that spicy foods are good for weight loss. If the salsa gave the Teacher’s Pet a surprising little kick, the chipotle sauce and pickled jalapeños on this sammy would have knocked her straight into the principal’s office. Fortunately it was saved by the yogurt-marinated, tender chicken, as well as the melty cheddar cheese and cooling lettuce and tomato. The obviously old, stale chocolate chip cookie, though, definitely disappointed. I’ve never been known to waste sweets, but I threw most of mine out.

Today’s entrée has been the best yet: the Hot Teacher. I liked the fat slices of mozzarella and cheddar paired with the sun-dried tomato pesto, red pepper, and whole sun-dried tomatoes. But what really made the sandwich were the flavorful strips of roasted portobellos. The whole thing most resembled a vegetarian pizza, but hey, I’m not complaining. I figure that if I keep eating these babies almost every day, I’ll look like Cameron Diaz in Bad Teacher.

Besides for Short Bus Subs’ made-from-scratch bread (slightly sweet and perfectly toasted every time), I also like that they’re located off the beaten track for trailers. Rather than getting lost in the traffic of East Sixth or South Austin, they cater to the North Austin crowd. One bus is permanently parked during the weekdays in the Mueller development, and the other one roams northern locations like the Domain and the Arboretum.

Tomorrow I’m planning to get the Summer Vacation, to celebrate the last few weeks before it’s over. Honey ham, provolone, Parmesan, marinara, pineapple, and crushed red pepper.

But first, let’s step on the old scale here and see how much weight I’ve lost. Hey, wait, that’s five pounds more than last week . . .

Bus #1: rotating locations, check website for schedule (512-535-SUBS). Bus #2: Old Mueller Airport Hanger, 4209 Airport Blvd (512-535-SUBS). Mon–Fri 7:30 a.m.–8 p.m., Sat & Sun 9–8.

Posted by Megan Giller. To read more from Megan Giller, visit her website at www.megangiller.com.

Tagged: sandwiches, Short Bus Subs, Trailer Thursday

Awesome Tomatoes

Feature: Fried Green Tomato

Critics 83% Audience 91%

Movie Info

Genre: Southern, Comfort Food, Comedy

Synopsis: The Whistle Stop Café it ain’t, but the Fried Green Tomato, on the corner of South First and Live Oak, holds the deep South dear to its crunchy, plump heart. The trailer serves up first-rate junk food featuring the signature fare, a thin yet sturdy slice of the rotund fruit deep-fried and gleaming with goodness. The tomato has mastered this role (we’ve heard the words “Oscar-worthy” growing through the grapevine), and though this is more of a character study, the plot is certainly furthered by her supporting actors, homemade pimento cheese and everyone’s favorite heartthrob, the bacon strip. When the three come together, good times and hilarity ensue. Though some critics have already sputtered all through the gutter about the film’s being “wincingly overwrought,” we delighted in the overall cheesiness, which sent our stomachs aflutter.

Rated: PG-13, for mild off-color heirloom humor and a few adult-size calorific sandwiches.

Distributor: Costco, unfortunately, is the supplier of the trailer’s bland wheat bread. Nice, thick, slices of lightly toasted sourdough, or even buttermilk bread, could have won one of these performances Best Sammy of the Year.

Running Time: Less than 15 minutes. Or, if you want to linger, there are nice tables, and the SOFI trailer park is dog-friendly. Just watch out for the flies.

In Theaters: Showing now!

Box Office: Under $10.

Cast:

Caprese Salad. A few Italians might roll over in their graves if they saw this concoction, but more likely, they’d push aside that dirt and dig in: The “salad” was that good. It’s hard to go wrong with a stack of fried green tomatoes and fresh, melty mozzarella, topped with pesto and a sweet balsamic reduction. A bit on the oily side, but still a nice twist on a household name.

BL(FG)T Sandwich. The BLT was taken to the next level with fried green tomatoes, crisp romaine lettuce, and huge bacon strips. We would have liked to see a little more of that ranch dressing in the performance, though, before this one can earn the “FG” in its name.

Dirty South Sandwich. No, Matthew McConaughey is not in this movie. This is a different kind of dirty Southerner, with (surprise!) fried green tomatoes, bacon, pickled jalapeños, ranch, and pimento cheese. Reminiscent of Mary Louise Parker in a movie with a similar name, the cheese shone in this role—pink, alluring, and a little trashy. (In other words, we could see this pimento-studded star dealing weed in the future.)

Supporting cast. The crab cake slider was clean sold out by the time we got there, and we’ll have to leave the pimento cheese sandwich, the “local” salad, and the FGTs Foster (green tomatoes fried in pancake batter with rum sauce and vanilla ice cream) for our next feature.

SOFI Food Court, 603 W. Live Oak (817-937-6730). Open Mon–Sat 11–3 & 5–8. Closed Sun.

Posted by Megan Giller

Tagged: comfort food, Fried Green Tomato, sandwiches, Trailer Thursday

Photo by Sean Dunn

You’re walking through the east side. In front of you dashes a flannel-clad hipster, carrying recycling on the back of his bike. Suddenly he pulls over, to a food trailer park brimming with trucks featuring quirky names and colorful, kitschy exteriors. You’re in Austin, right? Not so fast. Let’s take a little field trip to Austin’s rainy sister city, Portland. Westward ho, my Texas friends!

I ventured on the Oregon trail last week to check out the scene, and oh, how the original traders and trekkers must have wished for such a manifest density of gourmet options. Like in our fair state, the food trucks there band together in trailer parks and city blocks, often in dizzying array, with their greasy Thai, grilled cheese, wienerschnitzel, doughy pie, you name it. But I found a lone trailer so good that I had to share with you.

PBJ’s is a modest-looking cart in the northwest part of Portland. But the gourmet peanut butter–inspired sandwiches they serve are hardly the snack some of us gobble in desperation. Instead, they are masterful grilled creations, made from scratch with the finest ingredients. In other words, PBJ’s takes to heart the song we all sang in preschool: “First you take the peanuts and you crush ‘em, you crush ‘em.” I hope you remember the rest. They certainly do, with homemade peanut and almond butters and other local ingredients, all of which won them second place at Portland’s third Eat Mobile food cart festival, in April 2010. In fact, the cart is doing so well that the owners are thinking of expanding to—you guessed it—Austin. As a completely obsessed peanut butter aficionado, I’d give my right arm to eat these transcendent sandwiches every day.

My favorite was the Spicy Thai, a savory sandwich with a spread of rich peanut butter, sriracha sauce, curry, a dash of orange marmalade, and a dotted layer of fresh basil leaves. Sure, it might sound strange, but the flavors worked to create a spicy and slightly sweet treat. Sandwiched between thick slices of grilled, buttery challah bread, it tasted like a dream.

So did the Joy, a gut-busting sandwich with thick, slightly grainy almond butter, homemade dark chocolate ganache, and homemade coconut filling. Served on the same grilled challah, the goody brought me back to my preschool self. (Picture a grown woman swinging her legs while sitting on a city bench, with chocolate and peanut butter all over her mouth, hands, and jeans, occasionally taking sips from her milk carton. Fortunately, she is blissfully unaware of anything but the sandwich at hand.)

After those two unsurmountable mountains, I didn’t make it to the Betty, with pb, Gruyere, bread-and-butter pickles, white pepper, and sea salt; the Hot Hood, with pb, black cherry jam, jalapeño, and applewood-smoked bacon; or the Pumpkin Pie, with pb, pumpkin butter, caramel sauce, and pie crust. I could keep going, but I’ll spare you the drooling. We all know that in my latent state I wouldn’t share my sammy with you anyway.

In case y’all are in Portland: 919 NW 23rd (702-743-0435). Wed–Sun 11–5.

Posted by Megan Giller

Tagged: PBJ's, peanut butter, Portland, sandwiches, Trailer Thursday

I never thought anything good could come from Taco Bell. The Mexican pizza, the Enchirito, the cheesy gorditas: No thanks. But I underestimated the power of their slogan, Think Outside the Bun. The new Tenderland trailer, on Manor Road, has appropriated that idea in the most literal way possible—with the largest, most expansive pork tenderloin sandwich that anyone has ever seen.

In other words, their signature entrée isn’t held back by its bready limits. Instead, the pounded-thin, perfectly deep-fried pork expands for inches around its bun. I modestly ordered the small size, so I have a feeling that the circumference of the large would rival a frisbee’s. But it’s not all about quantity here. Some of you may remember our 40 Best Small-Town Cafes story from a while back. While researching that story, I tried so many chicken-fried somethings that I vowed I would never eat deep-fried crust again. But even I couldn’t resist this golden crunchiness and the tender pork hiding inside. Served on a grilled sweet bun with chopped onions, sliced pickles, and mustard, this is junk food at its finest.

Their hamburger was tasty too: a thick patty stacked with romaine lettuce, juicy tomato, and chopped onions on a jalapeño bun. The meat itself could have used a bit more seasoning, but overall, it made for good eats. We gobbled it up, along with the hand-cut, addictive french fries.

Tenderland’s grub isn’t innovative or groundbreaking (except in the sense that you might, well, break the ground/floor/scale if you eat too much of it). It’s comfort food, through and through. So go get yourself a small tenderloin sandwich for lunch, or a large one for the frisbee golf course at Pease Park.

2406 Manor Road. Open Tue–Sat 11–7. Closed Sun & Mon.

Posted by Megan Giller

Tagged: comfort food, sandwiches, Tenderland, Trailer Thursday

Pig Vicious has refined drunk food to a science. The science of bacon, that is.

I started with a light hors d’oeuvre, the fried bacon-wrapped pickle spear. Never before has the calorie-full been so close to the calorie-less, and with your daily amount of sodium to boot. Once I put aside nutritional concerns, however, and dipped it in the spicy aioli, it made for a perfect Atkins-inspired snack.

Next came the Foldover, a grilled tortilla stuffed quesadilla-style with a fried egg, zesty guacamole, cheese, and, you guessed it, bacon. The sausage mac and cheese, with bowties and sausage bits swimming in a sea of creamy cheese, was also quite good, though a little bland. If you’re looking for something on the healthier side, try the Union Jack, a surprisingly simple sandwich made with crusty grilled sourdough, fresh romaine and butter lettuce, juicy tomato slices, dried basil bites, a drizzle of olive oil, and thick slices of peppery bacon.

Now, a word about the bacon. This is not your sad, shriveled Dad-popped-it-in-the-microwave-two-hours-ago stuff. These generous cuts are fried to perfection, crispy on the outside and chewy on the inside, the fat marbled against meat like in a Michelango sculpture and seasoned with coarsely ground black pepper.

The only place it didn’t work was in the unfortunate Bacon Shake. Made with vanilla ice cream, milk, and real bacon bits, it tasted creamy on first sip and then crunchy as you chewed the meat pieces. Sure, the ice cream became infused with bacony goodness, but the treat reeked of novelty. And when it boils down to it, I’m a dessert purist: no savory in my sweet, thank you.

I did appreciate, though, the sweet music video stylings of Zack de la Rocha playing on Pig Vicious’s built-into-the-trailer TV. We listened as we ate in the adjacent bus, decked out with tables, chairs, paper garlands, and candles. Mood lighting at a trailer: Who knew? It seems they’ve refined the science of bacon to an art.

Posted by Megan Giller

Tagged: bacon, Pig Vicious, sandwiches, Trailer Thursday

When I was five, I brainstormed the best business model: My mom would open a restaurant drive-up window, through the backyard to our kitchen, so that the world (or at least Dallas) could experience her awesome cooking. I like to think that I was ahead of my time, since in many ways, that’s what the Austin trailer scene boils down to, mom-and-pop shops serving their homemade recipes.

Of course, my mom was a total hippie who had recently returned from Berkeley to Texas. There was no pot roast in her kitchen. No chicken potpie or white bread sandwiches. I didn’t even know what ice cream was until I was six years old. At her house, it was wheatberry bread and black beans and lots of vegetables, all of which I loved. (Although I do remember one unfortunate day in kindergarten when I lifted a limp asparagus stalk from my lunchbox and wondered, “What the &#*$ is that?”)

But 99% of the time, her cooking was hearty, healthy, and heavenly. So when I discovered the Vegan Yacht, I felt right at home. Sure, it’s more hipster tattoo–bike culture–punk rock than my mother could ever hope to be, but the food is classic comfort vegetarian/vegan.

Like any good kid, I began my meal with dessert. It’s hard to beat the PB&J smoothie, with a rich blueberry burst that had me sipping until I had slurped it all up (although I wish there had been a bit more peanut butter involved). From there I moved on to the beet brownie, a flat, reddish baked good studded with carob pieces. Despite a bitter aftertaste, it was still a favorite of the evening.

So was the “Freeto Pie” Burrito, a hearty grilled tortilla stuffed with meaty organic tempeh chili, crunchy “freetos,” and vegan daiya cheese. As I waded through the black, kidney, and other assorted beans, it became clear that the cardinal Texas rule of never, ever, EVER putting beans in your chili was brazenly ignored. But you know what they say: Rules are made to be broken. Especially when the result is something this deliciously filling, perfect for a winter evening.

It may also seem like a few rules were broken to create the Mock Chick ‘N Sammie. Chicken salad without chicken or mayonnaise? I think I’ve waxed on (and on and on) in a previous post about the shadiness of mayonnaise, so let’s not get into it here. The Vegan Yacht’s alternative was light and fresh, stuffed between slices of thick-cut organic bread and arranged with lettuce, tomato, and generous layers of crunchy sprouts and grated carrots.

The only mediocre part of the meal was the Seitan Quesadilla. I was excited to try the homemade seitan, but something about it tasted off, and its texture was too springy for me. Paired with the gloppy vegan cheese en masse, even the chunks of bell pepper and avocado, the grated carrots, and the yummy grilled tortilla couldn’t save the entrée.

Lucky for me, I had saved a few bites of that beet brownie for just an occasion. I wonder if they’d give the recipe to my mother.

1001 E. 6th (512-619-7989). Open Mon 11–3, Tues–Thur 11–3 & 7–midnight, Fri & Sat 7 p.m.–3 a.m. Closed Sun.

Posted by Megan Giller

Tagged: sandwiches, Trailer Thursday, vegan, Vegan Yacht

Pop quiz: What’s brown and stuffed and smoking all over? If you answered a Cuban cigar, then you lose. Forget the cigars. Cuban-pressed sandwiches from the Texas Cuban are where it’s at.

But before diving into sandwiches so good they should be illegal, try a real cigar-shaped treat: Cuban Croquettas. These deep-fried cylinders are filled with shredded pork tenderloin and ham in a garlicky pesto-like sauce. Or, if you want even more carbs with your crust, try the excellent Papa Rellena. A hefty serving of tomatoey beef picadillo studded with green olives, enveloped by a layer of silky mashed potatoes, and deep-fried into a perfect round, the appetizer reminded me of shepherd’s pie on a nicotine high.

Now, about the main course. Remember the smashed turkey sandwiches on white that you used to pull out of your brown bag in the cafeteria, hoping no one would notice your shame? Those are a thing of the past. Feast on the Media Noche, a monster of a meal, with tender, chopped pork tenderloin, sliced ham, provolone and Swiss cheeses, pickles, and mayonnaise hot-pressed on garlic Cuban egg bread. The tenderloin was as decadent as barbecue beef brisket, but the crusty bright-yellow bread stole the show.

If you’re pulling out all the stops, order the eponymous offering, the Texas Cuban, which is so massive it feeds two. Alas, I sidled up to these sammies on Thanksgiving weekend and so could only stomach the half version of the Cuban, succinctly called El Cubano. Still quite sizable, it’s similar to the Media Noche but is served on thick-cut, toasty garlic bread. Also tasty was the South Austin Veggie Soul, a hot-pressed vegetarian sandwich with organic zucchini, squash, mushrooms, onions, red bell peppers, provolone cheese, and plenty of mayonnaise.

As good as these were, I’m not sure anything could beat the thick, house-made mariquitas—deep-fried, slightly sweet plantain “chips” peppered with sea salt and served on the side of the entrées. They could compete with neighbor Gourdough’s starchy treats any day.

Of course, there’s only one problem with eating all of that rich, bready food while basking in the sun: Afterward you may find that you yourself are the one who’s tanned, stuffed, and in need of a fine Cuban cigar.

Posted by Megan Giller

Tagged: sandwiches, Texas Cuban, Trailer Thursday

Ah, Italia. A country with a language so beautiful it can romance even the basest American classics. Casserolderci. Jell-O-tto. Brisketti. Puccia. Wait, that last one? Pronounced poo-chah, it may not be the prettiest word but it’s all real, and an amazing sandwich to boot.

First, let’s talk bread. Forget dry whole-wheat. Multigrain, be gone! Even sourdough can’t compare. Imagine the most perfect pizza dough, delicate and crisp on the outside, light and chewy on the inside. Now imagine it shaped into an individually sized round and wood-fired before your eyes (in a trailer, nonetheless!). Watch as Lucky, the owner, scoops it out of the oven, slices the bread as it’s still steaming, and stacks organic gourmet ingredients on top of organic gourmet ingredients before serving it straight to you.

The eponymous sandwich, Lucky’s Puccia, featured a healthy amount of prosciutto; fresh, juicy mozzarella; forest-green arugula; slices of ripe tomato; and basil oil (like pesto but much lighter). On Lucky’s suggestion, we added the slightly spicy chipotle mayo. Decadently rich, the result made us melt faster than an Italian hunk whispering amore in our ears.

The Puccia Arrostita, with roast beef, arugula, tomato, fresh mozzarella, and walnut spread, came in a close second. We added red-pepper oil, which in theory sounded delicious but in practice was too subtle. (Also, as a side note, if they recommend adding oils or spreads to every sandwich, I’d recommend they include those oils or spreads in the sandwich to begin with.) The almost-cheesy walnut spread tasted sweet at first, then garlicky, then a little too garlicky, just like the Italian hunk mentioned above on day four of his inner-ear cooings.

One love that will never die, though, is the Nutella-and-peanut-butter puccia. Picture that heavenly bread, pulled straight from the oven and sprinkled with sea salt, then heaped with mounds of melting Nutella and a layer of peanut butter in between, like the richest, most delicious peanut butter cup you could possibly imagine. I’m not sure they serve this one in Puglia, where Lucky hails from, but I’m very glad romance led him to Texas (he and his wife, Kimberly, run the trailer together) to make these regional delicacies, so that I could lead these hearty, gourmet sandwiches to my mouth. Amore indeed.

Posted by Megan Giller

Tagged: Italian food, sandwiches, Trailer Thursday

You could say that the “Pac-Man” in vegan trailer Counter Culture‘s Pac-Man Caesar salad refers to all the good nutrients packed in such a simple salad: chopped kale, carrot rounds, and a light, nutty dressing somehow reminiscent of Parmesan. Or you could say it means that upon visiting the trailer, you will, like Pac-Man, want to eat everything in sight.

For those of you turned off by the idea of wimpy vegan vegetables, try the Philly Seitan sandwich: Huge chunks of crisp, grilled seitan and lightly sautéed green peppers and onions nestled in a thick-slicked, toasted vegan hoagie roll (made specially for owner Sue Davis by Moonlight Bakery). Instead of the traditional Cheez Whiz typically squirted on cheesesteaks, Counter Culture uses cashew cheeze. Creamy, tangy, and not nearly as neon, it brought the whole sammy together. An unlike Cheez Whiz, it will actually nourish your body rather than sitting in your stomach for years to come.

Speaking of questionable foodstuffs, let’s just say that it takes an adventurous eater to dig in to a regular tuna salad sandwich. Pinkish-brown meat that comes in a can. Some sort of cream sauce made from egg whites, known as “mayonnaise.” And, usually, mysterious bits of diced greenish things that may or may not be crunchy. So I’d say the garbanzo “tuna” sandwich was a vast improvement. The combination of mashed and whole chickpeas, white onion, and celery tasted like real tuna, plus offered a similar protein punch. Paired with ripe red tomatoes and healthy leaves of romaine on a tasty, toasted hoagie, this sandwich will do you right.

I liked the cashew cheeze, fresh tomatoes, and slivers of basil on the bruschetta, but I wasn’t so fond of the homemade flax “bread” that tasted like a slightly sweet, chewy cracker. Compared to the hearty sandwiches for $6, this measly appetizer seemed overpriced, at $5. The quinoa seasonal salad, with quinoa, corn, and black beans, tasted bland and generic, and I was also disappointed with the lavendar chocolate. “Lavendar” implies a certain delicacy, but this large chunk of frozen chocolate, studded with slivered almonds and dates, with a strange coconut aftertaste, melted in my hand long before some of it made it into my mouth.

All in all, though, you wouldn’t suspect this was a vegan trailer, or a two-person operation. Their food is hearty, plentiful, and delicious. I might just go there for dinner tonight. I’ll tell you how many points I rack up, Pac-Man-style, tomorrow.

Posted by Megan Giller

Tagged: Counter Culture, sandwiches, Trailer Thursday, vegan

How do you improve on a killer grilled pastrami with cheddar and horseradish mayo? Or a gyro sandwich with Israeli salad and Tabasco tzatziki? Austin Daily Press knows how. Wrap the sammy in The Onion newsprint and sell it at a bargain to late-night downtown revelers. Oh, and add a catchy little motto to the side of your trailer: “As toasted as you are.”

But we aren’t the only ones to notice this budding enterprise. Austin Daily Press is one of the seven groups competing on the Food Network’s The Great Food Truck Race for a $50,000 prize. The show, which premiers on Sunday, August 15, at 9 p.m. CST/10 p.m. EST, features the businesses as they race across the country “to convince American to step outside their culinary comfort zones and try something new—from a truck.”

I sat down with Amy Hildenbrand of the Press (the other team members are Cory Nunez and Melani Feinberg) to talk about the sandwiches, the show, and the industry’s secrets.

How did you get started with the truck? Is it something you’ve always seen yourself doing, or is it a new passion?

The truck itself is a new passion, but I’ve always been interested in cooking. I learned a lot from my grannie and just watching how she did things. I always liked it from a scientific point of view, where you take these random cold ingredients and you make something completely different from them.

The main idea we had for Austin Daily Press was something that could be easily delivered, because we do deliveries out of the cart, and grilled sandwiches came up. A lot of the recipes are based on what Cory said he used to eat when he was a kid.

Do you have a philosophy behind your food truck?

Just to have fun with it. I mean, neither of us are chefs. Cory has a background in cooking for a living, and I still cook as a hobby. But we’re not trying to pass ourselves off as high-end Top Chef–type people. We blast eighties music and serve a lot of food to drunk people, mainly.

I bet the late-night crowd can be pretty rowdy. What drives you to keep serving such high-quality food to them?

We know that ultimately they’ll appreciate it. They might not be aware that they’re appreciating it, but certainly their bodies are aware that they’re getting real food. It’s like we’re helping take care of them a little bit, which is nice. And I don’t know if they just drunkenly keep the wadded-up wax paper in their pocket or something, but they remember us when they’re sober and come back.

What would you say is your favorite street food in Austin?

Kebabalicious is great. I like Best Wurst as well. I think they’re the oldest food cart in Austin, and it’s just a solid dog.

Is there a community of food trailer vendors in Austin, or even nationally?

There’s definitely a community in Austin. I think it’s the city with the second-largest population of food trucks, right after Portland, Oregon. The restrictions down here are certainly not lax, but it’s less strict than it is in other areas, like Los Angeles. So it’s a little bit easier to get into this business.

Tell us about being on The Great Food Truck Race.

The Food Network approached us at the end of March. We later came to learn that we were not just the only ones from Texas but the only ones from outside of California, period. First of all, we’re not even a truck, we’re a trailer. We were always the odd man out on everything.

It was cool to see if this concept could actually work outside of our home base, outside of the streets and the people that we knew. And on top of that, seeing if it could work during the day, during the morning, instead of late-night.

The show became sort of a lesson on how to set up a franchise in the span of a weekend. What you’d need to do to get the word out and learn if your product could sell in a completely new town.

Do you think the trailer trend is impacting the food industry in general?

Definitely. You’ve got big corporate brick-and-mortar restaurants that are putting out trucks now. A lot of people got into the trucks because it’s a much cheaper way of getting into the food industry. It doesn’t cost a quarter of a million dollars to open a food truck like it would a restaurant. But now the big restaurants are paying attention and they’re scaling back and trying to catch the public’s eye with trucks as well.

It’s not just roach coaches anymore. There are actual full kitchens on wheels. Most kitchens in restaurants are relatively small to begin with, so if you just kinda tighten it down, put, like, a submarine aspect to the organization of it, then you can do a lot in a really small space.

Tagged: Austin Daily Press, Food Network, sandwiches, The Great Food Truck Race, Trailer Thursday