I could feel the heat from the döner kebab the moment I opened the door to Istanbul, the second Rego Park restaurant* that taxi driver Eduard Zavlanov recommended during our ride through Midtown Manhattan. When he’s craving Turkish food, the musician from Uzbekistan told me that this is his favorite spot.
When I walked into
Two years ago, 30,000 food pilgrims and I invaded the town of Famaillá, in the Tucuman province of northwestern Argentina, for the National Empanada Festival.
For three days, we feasted on some of the greatest empanadas in the hemisphere. Most of them were stuffed with grass-fed Argentine beef, and all of them were enveloped in
Two taxi rides, one Russian and one Uzbeki-Persian-Jewish cabbie added up to a couple of mind-bending stories, zero lunch, and two tantalizing restaurant recommendations.
Boris – who was born in “a small town in Russia called Moscow” and used to fly planes for Aeroflot – told me that he eats at McDonald’s when he’s driving
A former coal mining engineer from Moscow, Oleg Zaretskiy came to Brooklyn in 1990 and eventually brought his entire family to the United States from Russia.
Oleg has driven more than a million miles over 16 years as a cab driver, and now he can barely stand to be behind the wheel. To cope with
After five blocks in motion and 15 minutes of curbside conversation, José Pego finally decided I’d better try the lamb souvlaki at Opa!
The cabbie – who emigrated to New York as a teenager, dropped out of NYU and has been driving a taxi for 32 years – was born in Galicia, Spain. He travels
When I asked Kadri Sayed what his favorite thing about New York was, he slapped the steering wheel and unleashed his words with enthusiasm:
“This is a multicultural city. Everyone says I’m American. It’s beautiful. We love New York. You have different people from different backgrounds, and we can live together.”
“If you live in New
Though three days passed between my taxi ride with Constance Marie Barnes and the trip to her favorite Jamaican restaurant, the meal at The Door felt like a seamless continuation of the easy warmth I found in her cab.
The restaurant was packed with a well-dressed, after-church crowd when my co-adventurer and I showed up
When she’s not driving a yellow cab or working toward her nursing degree, Constance Marie Barnes makes a potato salad “that can slap your mama,” prays for her passengers, and goes to McDonald’s for one reason: their bathroom.
The pint-sized cabbie from Queens – who would go vegan if it weren’t for goat stew –
They’d run out of lasagne by the time I got to Frankie Franks last Friday. An hour on the subway and twenty minutes trekking through the Bronx to taste the dish that cabbie Mohamed had recommended with so much enthusiasm had led to a dead end.
Of course I was disappointed. I silently cursed the
This post was sponsored by Vancouver Taxi.
I was a few blocks from the Ferragosto celebration in the Bronx’s Little Italy when I found Mohamed Baba parked at a de facto cab stand on 3rd Avenue near Fordham University.
Assuming I was unlikely to find a yellow taxi in this neck of the woods, I poked
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