4. Marcella

Day 4- Marcella

I was in the mood for some street food. Radius check- Halal cart...peanuts... more halal... hot dogs... waffles... and across the street, I spotted an evergreen truck with Lady Liberty screaming, "TriBeca Tacos." And with my California blues lusting for some tacos, I crossed the street.

There wasn't a line, so my instinct was to walk right past it. But then... my tummy REALLY wanted tacos. So I turned around to have thankfully been face to face with a friendly chalkboard. Having made my decision, I got on line.

The gentleman before me was speaking with the taco truck lady in Spanish. They were speaking fluidly, laughing, and really hitting it off. As I stood there, it hit me- I could talk to her too... I could be that person!

Finally, it was my turn. The woman looked like she was in her mid-thirties. She was fun-sized with deep sun-kissed skin, sharp gentle eyes, and strong dark hair wrapped in a hair net. She was wearing a tight hot pink tee shirt that brighten up the inside of her small food cart. With her clear gloves and spatula in hand, she pointed to me, "What do you want mami?"

"I want two tacos. The first one is tofu. And the second one... which do you think is better? The one with the pineapple of the one with the pork?"

"Pork," she said wisely, like Yoda. She turned around and started putting magic on the grill. We listened to the tapping of her spatula on the grill, scooping and soft dropping of the ingredients, and with her eyes on the grill, her hands systematically moved around taking things from their home.

I leaned my chin on the window, watching her performance, "Busy today?"

With her eyes on the grill, "Ehhh..." Flip, chop, and sizzle. "You know... this push cart- not a lot of money. You know, no permit," She made a square gesture with her hands. "So no body... yeah, you know... Maybe... 20... a day..."

"So how long are you usually here?"

"Eh, maybe till 8pm. Working... 5 times a week. I no cook when I go home..." we both laughed. She continued, "I cooking all the time here... so I no like to cook at home."

She is originally from Mexico. She came to New York City 23 years ago and although she likes New York, she often misses home. She has been working with the TriBeca Taco truck for almost 5 years. I asked for her name.

"Marcella... Mar-SEE-el-LA," she said proudly. She grabbed a to go box and grabbed two tortillas. She began scooping the goodies on top of the tortillas.

"MAR-see-EL-lah," I repeated.

"Si! Marcella... What sauce honey?"

A platoon of sauce bottles glared at me. Pressure.... "-I don't know. What do you think is best?"

She looked at the sauces, "Em..." She pointed to the bottle that looked like the rest of the bottles, "The verde sauce is I like the best."

"Okay, sure," I said.

She picked up the bottle and painted my tacos, "I have son." Marcella smiled as she handed me my box, "I have two sons... $6 honey."

Front: TriBeca taco itself and Tofu taco with Verde sauce, by Marcella!

She was leaning outside the window where my chin once was. I was fished inside my wallet for money. "How old?"

"One is 9, the other 14..." She smiled as we exchanged box and money, "I love them very, very much."

We lingered for a moment and made eye contact. I smiled, "Thank you Marcella. Have a good day. Bye bye."

"Bye bye now," her voice faded into the soft melodies of Soho. I felt Marcella and her truck get sucked into a time warp as the next customer stepped up. That was it. That was my 10 minute opportunity with Marcella.