“When’s the truck coming?” Seems I can’t go anywhere without being asked that simple question. This is not an exaggeration. It happens multiple times daily. Strangers, friends, relatives, reporters: it seems everyone wants to know.
Originally it was to be June 1, then June 15, then yesterday and now I hope it’ll be Monday or Tuesday. After it arrives we’ll go for licensing and learn how to operate the thing and then I go away. Go away? Seriously?
I know, right? Here’s the scoop: my incredible nephew Max is being Bar Mitzvah’d in London, England in one week and I’m going to be there. I look at this as a test of my priorities and Max is at the top of my list. He’s an amazing kid. He’s one of the smartest people I know (I remember watching him play games as a kid where he’d keep changing the rules to make it more challenging) but also fun, funny and compassionate. He and I connect on the cooking level.
Max wants to be a chef or do something interesting in hospitality. Imitation being the highest form of flattery, I clearly revel in his passion. And the kid can fress too. Last time he was in he ate a fatty fresser, a poutine and a mac and cheese (as well as a few deep fried pickles he shared with his irresistibly lovable brother Angus). Who names a kid Angus Caplan? More on him another time.
Knowing that the truck would be here June 1, I was reluctant to commit to attend Max’s bar mitzvah. Then in March, Max and his mother Claire (nee Claire Angus, the one who along with my brother Mark gives kids funny names: Findlay, Talia, Max and Angus. I know, right? Although someone named Zane shouldn’t talk.) and little brother Angus came for lunch in the deli. “Are you going to come to my bar mitzvah, Uncle Zane,” Max asked. ”It would be so cool if you came.” And suddenly the reluctance was gone. The path was clear. “Of course, Max”, I said. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” And he kept eating. I love those kids.
Now it appears as if the truck will arrive shortly before my departure. This is why I didn’t go into insurance. Nothing is for sure in my business. Every day is different.
I’ll leave Michelle in charge of doing some dry runs with the truck in preparation for Kieran and Amy’s wedding on July 2 as well as some Canada Day thing she booked for 25,000 people.
My summer will not be boring. In fact, it will rock. Hardcore. We’re going to shake this city to its roots and show people what great street food is all about. We’re going to work insane hours and sweat insane buckets and smile all the way through because we’re slightly crazy and we love feeding you.
But first I’m going to dance at Max’s Bar Mitzvah. Because that’s more important.
