On Sunday mornings in the city of Los Angeles, there’s nothing more important than picking out where to brunch. Well, there are a few things more important, but when you’re a bit hungover, have yet to do your grocery shopping for the next week and are getting hungrier and angrier by the second, figuring out where to brunch can seem like priority number one, at least for the moment.
Last Sunday, instead of settling for a Whole Foods Market smoothie or my usual tartine at Le Pain Quotidien, I convinced my friends to get in the car and accompany me to Smorgasburg, a recently re-opened weekly Sunday market and ultimate food-lover’s mecca on 785 Bay St. in downtown LA.
After a quick 25 minute drive, we arrived at the five-acre site, parked our car in the adjacent parking garage and followed the groups of stylishly dressed hipsters carrying expensive cameras to the market entrance.
Welcome to food heaven.
As we walked past food truck after food truck, it was hard to keep our bearings. The smell of baking dough and melting cheese hit me first, luring me toward the URBN Pizza truck, where I watched two men pull a freshly baked pizza out of a wood-fired oven. The crust was bubbly, charred on the edges but thin in the middle, and covered with a layer of tomato sauce, mozzarella balls and a sprinkling of bright green basil. I had to forcefully pull myself away, my hands itching to reach out and nab a slice.
I spotted my friend at the next food truck and headed toward her, the smell of roasting meat growing stronger and smokier the closer I got. She stood mesmerized off to the side of the Goa Taco truck, where a piece of tied pork belly slowly turned over a charcoal fire and a man flipped paratha, an Indian flatbread, on an outdoor grill. He stuffed the paratha with meat, pickled red cabbage and chipotle mayo before folding it like a taco and placing it in what looked like a cardboard envelope.
Most of the food trucks had just a few people waiting in front of them, until we reached Shrimp Daddy, where it seemed like the whole market was waiting in line. Two excited looking girls weaved their way through the crowd from the front of the line, holding their long-awaited prize: a half a pineapple cut lengthwise and hollowed out, filled with a scoop of rice, Hawaiian-style macaroni salad, pineapple chunks and garlic butter shrimp. I watched them stand at a table and take photos of it from every angle, too impressed with the aesthetics of the dish to judge.
While my friends waited in line for their own shrimp-filled pineapple bowl, I took a lap around the market, passing by the beer garden bumping loud music and a line of art vendors selling jewelry, clothes and wellness products.
When I couldn’t take the enticing smells any longer, I decided to stop and try the braised pork belly taco at the Chinese Laundry truck. Prepared like a piece of art, the reddish-purple color of the house pickled onions contrasted brilliantly with the green cilantro and scallions, decorating the slightly sweet and ultra tender meat underneath.
I enjoyed my taco sitting at a communal table, where I was afforded a view of an eclectic feast collected by the family sitting next to me. The father slurped at the pink flesh of a sea urchin straight from the black spiky shell of the creature itself, while the kids squealed with what seemed like both horror and delight. The mother used her hands to pull the meat of a lobster claw away from its shell and the kids took bites from both an oozing grilled cheese sandwich and a steaming tamale.
Before heading back to the car, we obviously had to stop for dessert. With Donut Friend already sold out of donuts, we decided on an an acai smoothie bowl from Amazebowls. Unable to resist our “basic” girl desires, we opted for the smoothie bowl served in half a coconut and topped with granola, coconut shaving and edible flowers. After a flurry of pictures, we dove into the bowl, slightly surprised to find that it was as tasty as it was beautiful. A sweet end to a sweet day.
There’s no denying that food has become somewhat of a fetish in LA, with Sunday brunch being the holiest and most sacred of meals. And while the classic egg white omelet and bottomless mimosa mornings are all fine and dandy, what’s more LA than a brunch served from food trucks?