Flea Market Eats
By CHARLES FERRUZZA
Until recently, if I had made plans to roll out of bed early on a Saturday morning to make it to the amazing Third World Bazaar known as Nate’s Swap Shop at the old 63rd Street Drive-In (8200 E. 63rd Street), I typically went out for a 6 a.m. breakfast so I could get to Nate’s no later than 8 in the morning.
This busy swap meet – it costs $1 to get in as a buyer – is at its most tolerable in the cooler dawn hours; by noon, this scene can feel like a hot and raucous Tijuana street fair.
But more vendors are setting up food stands on Saturday and Sundays when the swap-n-shop is open for business – from 6:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. In between the vendors selling used clothes, old shoes, new (but mothball-scented) embroidered sweaters, baskets of fresh peaches, cell phones, sunglasses, bootleg videos, diet supplements and plumbing supplies are entrepreneurs selling Mexican tacos and tortas, hot dogs, soda pop and various other snack fare familiar to the outdoor festival circuit.
One Saturday, while wandering around the grounds of the old drive-in with my friend Addison, I ate more than I shopped.
While Addison debated buying a T-shirt airbrushed with the image of a grim-looking Santa Muerte (“Saint Death,” the patron saint of criminals), I stopped in at one tent-like structure to get a glass of agua fresca – the crushed fruit-and-water concoction so popular in Mexico.
At this particular stand, two young ladies were ladling up a hot pink watermelon version, creamy-looking horchata flavored with cinnamon, and a variation made with cucumber and lime. I ordered a glass of the neon-yellow pineapple version (it was wonderful) and while one young lady poured it over a glass of ice, I watched her business partner pull out an ear of steamed corn from a silvery metal pot.
While I sipped my drink, I looked on, spellbound, as she stuck a wooden skewer into one end of the corn, then slathered the entire ear with mayonnaise and then rolled it in a tray of grated Parmesan. It looked horrendous, but the young man buying the delicacy assured me it was muy delicioso.
Addison wouldn’t even look in the direction of the corn, but the preparations for a cup of fresh chopped melon intrigued him. “They squeeze fresh lime juice on the melon, then sprinkle salt and chili powder on top of it,” he said. I bought one for him and he dug hungrily into the fruit cocktail – then stuck out his tongue, stained bright red from the chili powder. “It’s horrible!”
After poking over an assortment of old silver spoons, I walked over to the hot dog cart operated by a congenial guy named Leo, who’s been grilling dogs at the swap meet for a couple of years.
“Business is pretty good here,” he said, handing me my wax paper-wrapped fat frankfurter. “But there’s more competition now.”
The competition includes the big, shiny steel-and-glass catering wagon owned by the El Tortito Catering Company, a veritable restaurant on wheels. In addition to the more familiar tacos and burritos, the crew working inside El Torito’s wagon offer tortas and quesadillas made with a choice of chorizo or ham or tripe or buche – pork esophagus cooked in lard. I ate an excellent freshly-grilled chorizo and cheese quesadilla – almost enough for two people.
The only things I craved that I couldn’t find that day were funnel cakes and ice cream cones. But sooner or later, they’ll probably show up there too.
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