I spent a full year, per my instinct, ferreting out better lunch places, and ones serving less common dishes. But I gradually realized I was working more against the grain than ever because that's not the proposition here. These places frame themselves as providing a commodity, like soybeans or propane. All roughly the same thing at roughly the same price, with none aspiring to do better.
Yet talent always reveals itself. Some are especially good, though never intentionally so. And hardly anyone notices, because everyone's tied to their local, while I'm the only moving part in the whole machine, dropping out of the sky into this or that lunchroom. When I score - finding exceptional talent - it's a matter of serendipity, not due to any ambition to develop a business edge.
If you complimented a chef on her delicious cooking, she'd take it as a romantic overture. Imagine if, having filled your tank at a gas station, you smiled languorously and pronounced the cashier's fuel delicious. You'd be a lunatic. Or have ulterior motives.
You're not eating in restaurants. You're patronizing fueling stations, where deliciousness is both accidental and commonplace.
Wait, what? "Accidental and commonplace"? To a chowhound, that's irrational. Deliciousness is always tied to ambition and wielded as a business edge. But not here. And it's taken time for me to adjust. I do, of course, find treasure, but from far outside the frame. This is not the Upper West Side.
If you asked a Portuguese person why the food's so good when chefs aren't the least bit aspirational, they'd all answer the same way:
"Because it's Portuguese food."Who am I to argue?
View a series of photo essays of non-aspirational local lunches indexed (and updated) here.
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