My block seems to be a haven for meals on wheels. Lunch trucks are dispatched from a huge lot down the street—did you ever wonder where those things go at night? The tamale lady comes by every morning. Ahhh, the tamale lady. Nothing jolts you out of a nice deep sleep like a shrill “TAMALEEEEEEEES” at 8 a.m.. I have always been curious as to what the infamous tamale Lady is capable of, however I’m never quite ready for tamales that early (shocker). Why doesn’t she ever come at lunchtime? Plus, my roommates have forbidden me from purchasing any of said tamales in fear of her targeting our house in the future. As of now she merely passes by every morning.
Who really wants hot tamale though, anyway, when it’s reaching upwards of ninety degrees? Over these past few weeks there has been only one mobile delicacy on my mind: ice cream. I’ve grown to love my neighborhood ice cream truck. When I hear that electronic/jingly/slightly-disturbing version of ‘we wish you a merry Christmas’, I know it's summer in L.A. The ice cream man has everything you could possibly want on a hot summer day, from your classic chipwich to a chili-dusted mango pop. Of course, if you’re not into cold at the moment, my friendly neighborhood ice cream truck can offer you chips, Cheetos, and even nachos (complete with fresh jalapenos). I tend to stick with the classic chocolate chip ice cream cone, and no, I don’t worry about how long it’s been stored with the nacho cheese. Nothing satisfies more for fifty cents.
—Gina Gorman
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