True to its name, Snack Dragon started out as an actual shack slapped to the front of a deli on Avenue B. Now installed in a cozy storefront with a takeout window on 3rd St., the Dragon offers tacos with fresh ingredients made on premises, in five varieties: carne asada, pollo verde, carnitas, quinoa (veggie), and fish. The carne asada taco ($4) is usually my pick–marinated steak and black beans topped with salsa, sour cream, and monterey jack, seasoned with cilantro and lime, and folded in a blue corn tortilla. For the price it’s not a huge amount of food, and as California transplants tell me, the food here doesn’t quite stack up to the eats in the taco wonderland that is the West Coast. On the plus side, Snack Dragon more conveniently situated than Cali, and is open late (til 4am on weekends and probably far faster and tastier than your other options at that hour).

Vidocity visits Snack Dagon back when it was a shack.

Snack Dragon Taco Shack 199 E 3rd St. at Ave B.
Usually open by 6 pm, until 1 am; 4am Fri and Sat

I’m not a big fan of delayed gratification. To me, there’s only one thing better than getting something you know you want somewhat right away, and that’s getting something you didn’t even know you wanted.

I was re-thinking that when I spied Stone’s 07.07.07 Vertical Epic Ale ($5.99) in the beer section at Whole Foods. The story is thus–every year the San Diego, California brewery releases one “larger-than-life, heroic adventure” (according to the label copy, which by the way, is referring to beer here) on 02/02/02, 03/03/03, 04/04/04, etc. up until the year 2012. Each brew different, and each is meant to be aged until 12/12/12, on which date the careful collector is urged to do a “vertical tasting” of every blend in order, resulting in said epic. Presumably sometime before 12/21/12, or Mayan Doomsday, to be on the safe side.

Genius. But I probably couldn’t horde beer for that long. Just standing in the checkout line line at Whole Foods, with the foul, calorie-deprived breath of some waif panting down my nape was enough to convince me to crack this stuff open soon as I got home. This year’s edition draws inspiration from Belgian Saisons and Golden Triples, clocks in at 8.4% alcohol, and packs a flavorful punch of spices–ginger and cardamom, and something like pumpkin. It’s tasty stuff and I only wish I’d know how it will stack up five years’ hence.

A review of Vertical Epic.

Vertical Epic 07.07.07 while supplies last at Whole Foods on Houston St.

Tonight, when I called Caracas Arepa Bar for takeout, there was no hello. Instead the receiver hovered within hearing-range of vague, delighted sounds–people enjoying buttery, cheesey arepas and beers. The second and third times: busy signal. This was not the first time this had happened.

And this is how I know I’m in deep with a snack obsession, because instead of pulling out another dog-eared menu, I threw on pants and ran out with shower hair, slinking past all the pretty people spilling out from bars. Because I need arepas dammit and Caracas can’t ignore me if I’m standing there in the flesh, demanding them.

My strategy is usually as follows: for maximum tastiness, skip the filling coconut shakes, serviceable salads, and deep-fried empanadas, and try as many arepas as you can. A Venezuelan specialty, the arepa is a flat, grilled-crisp, corn cake, about the size of a McMuffin and stuffed with a variety of fillings. My personal favorites are De Guasacaca–Venezuelan guacamole with crumbly mild paisa cheese ($5.50), and La del Gato–melty guayanes cheese, avocado, and fried sweet plantains ($5.75).

Expect a wait long enough that you smell like arepa when you emerge with your stapled brown bags of deliciousness. This tiny takeout joint is regularly packed, as three guys hustle to hand-prepare corn cakes behind the counter. If you have company, there’s a larger dining room for eating in, two doors down.

Caracas To Go 91 E 7th St. at First Ave.
Mon-Sat 12:00pm-10:45pm, Sun 12:00pm-9:45pm

Update: closed 8/27/09. But the owner is shopping for a new location. There are just a few places worth trekking through a 98-degree haze for. Lassi, a closet-sized West Village takeout shop, is worth checking out if only for its signature beverage. Lassi (the drink) is a cold silky mix of yogurt, water, and salt, in flavors ranging from mango to cardamom ($5 for large). It’s deliciously rich even as the tartness makes your eyes squinch. But don’t miss the parathas as well–hearty naan griddled and folded crepe-style over delicately-spiced fillings of your choice–potato, daikon, cauliflower, or cheese; and served with boondi raita, a chilled, mint-flavored dipping sauce flecked with little doughy balls ($4-$5). The entrees, including shahi chicken with pistachio, almonds and cashews ($14.75) and vegan Shakkar-Kandi Saag (sweet potatoes in spinach - 12.95) are uniformly excellent. The challenge: try not to suck down your lassi before the food arrives.

Lassi, 28 Greenwich Ave. at 6th Ave.

Today while wandering through Soho to spy upon cute geeks buying iPhones I happened upon my favorite New York street performer/salesperson, Peeler Man. If you suspect that you might ever need a vegetable peeler, you should wait til you encounter him.

I call it street theater, because make no mistake, Peeler Man, whose name is actually Joe Ades, is a notch or two beyond QVC hosts when it comes to impassioned conviction about the amazing versatility of the Star vegetable peeler. An older, well-dressed gentleman with white hair, Ades can usually be seen on some busy sidewalk, crouched over plastic bins holding potatoes and carrots, bellowing in a British accent, a wad of bills clenched between latex-gloved, orange-stained fingertips. One’s first impression is that perhaps the guy has lost his mind, but then you stop and watch him do his thing and eventually, appreciate the entertainment value.

“NOW! I’LL SHOW YOU HOW IT WORKS! FIRST! YOU PEEL THE CARROT!” he shouts to a tentative-but-intrigued flock of tourists and shoppers standing only a few feet away. Peels pile up like magic beneath his fingers. “THEN! YOU SLICE THE CARROT!” he folds the paper-thin slices between his fingers, cuts some more, and easy as that, even, identical carrot shavings shoot from the peeler. He sells the Star peelers for $5 a pop, and says they’re made in Switzerland, and only available exclusively from him on the sidewalks of New York.

Apparently he was recently featured in Vanity Fair, and lives comfortably with his wife on the Upper West Side.

Watch the Peeler Man.

Joe Ades and the Star Vegetable Peeler, Soho, Union Square, Sixth Avenue near Rockefeller Center, and other random New York sidewalks