FOOD TRUCKS AND THE LAST NIGHT OF THE JAZZ FESTIVAL

It was a nice night and the very last day of the jazz festival. I don't know how it goes so fast every year. It is a distant memory since I lived downtown and went several times in a summer. I do, though, always make a note of it, and made several attempts with different people to plan to leave the suburbs and bask in the atmosphere and music, but nothing had worked it. It was down to a day that I had to work. The weather seemed great, but given the unpredictability of the time my shift would end, I could only reach out to people after it was over. It wasn't too late, but I was a little tired, having not slept just under 7 hours the night before, and hungry. My two leads were both out of town, and I needed some exercise, so I left my car at work and walked to Place-des-Arts in search of a show and some supper. The usual steps were under construction, so the stage I had expected was absent. I couldn't here music anywhere, but I walked along Ste-Catherines where several food trucks were parked. It was a tough choice, with very little to indicate the food items or how they were served. It's become obvious to me that single serve plastic is as maddening as the idea of farmed foods, so I walked up and down several times hoping to choose something tasty, vegetarian, reasonably priced with minimal garbage. I googled a place that looked plant based, but they had pictures of the van and the guys in it, but not one of their menu or any review of the food. No one was leaving with a serving I could ask about, so after loitering for a few minutes, I returned to a taco truck that I had seen before and had a line up with small paper dishes that would be guilt free garbage. 

Grumman 78 is the name of the truck, and has a unique history in being Montreal's first taco truck. Not so many years ago, food trucks were banned in Montreal. If I not mistaken, the year that changed, my foodie brother visited and we crossed a green knoll adjacent to Place-Des-Arts to feed his fix.  Fast forward 8 years later, I was eating from the same truck, and now the need for lobbying their existence is gone, and the truck has led to a brick and mortar restaurant it was supposed to compete with, and food trucks seem here to stay.  The choices on the board were explained by a bilingual friendly guy, and the rice and beans appealed but required a fork. I settled on a flavour I have had little experience with, and the $8 taco looked small, but ended up hitting the spot. On a warm corn tortilla lay a bed of rice and beans, covered in a generous layer of mildly spicy jerk pulled chicken. The cilantro and sour cream and lime made the dish sublime, and I ate it sitting by the fountain where both children and adult both played in the spray, and amazingly no one fell in spite of running on the slippery stone. 

After feeling a lot better with a full stomach and the transfer of joyous energy, I went in search of what was missing: music! As I made my way up towards President Kennedy, through the play space I have loved well over the years for Princess Pirate, I felt nostalgic passing by the percussion studio and the mango flower stand, but by then I was starting to hear music! Samantha Martin and Delta Sugar were just starting their show, and I found a low stone wall to sit on since the grass was damp. She was dynamic, and her voice a little gravelly. She had the stage filled with her band, and was flanked by two singers, all of whom had great energy that transmitted to the crowd. As the day cooled, and the sun began to set, this music set was just the energy and vibe I was hoping for, on the last night of the jazz festival.

Grumman 78 Jerk Chicken Taco