I walked out of my hotel to get a new toothbrush from Duane Reade and smelled the kebabs on the grill.
I love meat on a skewer so I made straight for the cart at Lexington and 49th and waited for the cart dude to finish with someone else's order.
Through the aroma of roasting chicken and meat, I was hit by an odor like someone had opened a bottle of wine and a bottle of vinegar at the same time. I looked around and standing behind me was a skinny fat British dude swaying. His stomach was a travesty. It was like the alcohol he drank over his lifetime had turned into triplets.
And boy was he shitfaced. It looked like an invisible frat boy had mistaken him for a cow and was trying to tip him over. I moved a few feet away. I was hoping he would fall face first into the relish and cause the cart owner to start yelling in a foreign language.
Instead, he grabbed the hot dog and bit into it hard sending a projectile of ketchup in the direction of three tourists. The hot dog seemed to ease his swaying a tad but he was plastered. If the cart owner had squirted mustard on the cart's umbrella, the British dude would have eaten it.
The cart dude finally gave me my skewer and I told him I just wanted hot sauce on it. He put it inside a bun, which was weird, but not too different from a pita. The chicken was tender enough but didn't have any real flavor. I racked my brains to try and come up with something noteworthy to mention but I couldn't. The hot sauce was the only source of flavor.
I glanced over at the British dude and he was licking relish off his thumb. I finished my skewer, full but not impressed. Sabrett's food seems to be aimed at tourists or people who are too far gone to know better. This may be the one type of food that New York doesn't do better than Boston.
I walked out of my hotel to get a new toothbrush from Duane Reade and smelled the kebabs on the grill.
I love meat on a skewer so I made straight for the cart at Lexington and 49th and waited for the cart dude to finish with someone else's order.
Through the aroma of roasting chicken and meat, I was hit by an odor like someone had opened a bottle of wine and a bottle of vinegar at the same time. I looked around and standing behind me was a skinny fat British dude swaying. His stomach was a travesty. It was like the alcohol he drank over his lifetime had turned into triplets.
And boy was he shitfaced. It looked like an invisible frat boy had mistaken him for a cow and was trying to tip him over. I moved a few feet away. I was hoping he would fall face first into the relish and cause the cart owner to start yelling in a foreign language.
Instead, he grabbed the hot dog and bit into it hard sending a projectile of ketchup in the direction of three tourists. The hot dog seemed to ease his swaying a tad but he was plastered. If the cart owner had squirted mustard on the cart's umbrella, the British dude would have eaten it.
The cart dude finally gave me my skewer and I told him I just wanted hot sauce on it. He put it inside a bun, which was weird, but not too different from a pita. The chicken was tender enough but didn't have any real flavor. I racked my brains to try and come up with something noteworthy to mention but I couldn't. The hot sauce was the only source of flavor.
I glanced over at the British dude and he was licking relish off his thumb. I finished my skewer, full but not impressed. Sabrett's food seems to be aimed at tourists or people who are too far gone to know better. This may be the one type of food that New York doesn't do better than Boston.