All the News That's Fit to Eat
The Return of La Crêperie Roulante--In addition to running Café Gee out of Atomic Cantina in the evenings, Richard Agee is reviving his La Crêperie Roulante cart for streetside lunch services. Richard plans to be back in his mobile kitchen with the original Crêperie Roulante menu from around 11 a.m.-3 p.m. weekdays, starting immediately. “Yeah, and no drunk-people sandwiches!” he says, referring to the fact that “some people” can't wrap their heads around what a panini is during bar hours. So he's returning to the perennial favorites while he can, in sober daylight. That means savory and sweet crêpes, a soup or two and, yes, those impossibly flat, pressed sandwiches. (Don't worry, drunk people. You can still get a Burque turkey inside the Atomic when the Café Gee kitchen is open.) When hunger strikes at lunch, look for his supercharged, shiny black food cart on Gold between Third and Fourth Streets.
Alex Brown and Evan George
Colonel Kurtz’ Napalm Báhn Mì
We’d like to think that when Marlon Brando was getting ready to emerge on the set of Apocalypse Now he started gorging himself on something that was regionally specific. He wanted something that would keep him cool and satiated in the jungle, something that would soothe and excite his sizable abdomen when Francis Ford Coppola pumped him full of drugs after butchering cows and freaking out in front of Playboy Bunnies. “I don’t need to read the script,” he thought. “I just need another goddamn sandwich.”
Chicken and waffle cones
Who the #@%* was Marco Polo? As we here at the Alibi are all about education, let’s do a historical sneaky peak. The famed name belonged to a globe-trotting Venetian merchant who went to China, met Kublai Khan, wrote a book, got kidnapped, got released and retired while sitting on a proverbial pile of cash. Then, of course, he lent his name to a fun pool game. It is reputed that our boy returned to Venice from China and was going around to his friends and neighbors bragging about his travels, only to have few believe his seemingly tall tales.