I washed up at Joe’s Pizza for the first time four years ago, after I’d been suckered into going to Misshapes. (As we pushed into the party and I saw a barely-twenty-year-old girl with Weimar-era makeup and a sculptural Isabella Blow-ish hat/mask covering half her face I understood why the doorman had looked at our outfits and pronounced us tragic). The thing about feeling ridiculously old and unfashionable at 25 is that you still have the stamina to drink and dance all night, or at least until you feel start feeling pretty good. Still, certain worries edge this pleasant little mood you’ve blundered into–it’s so late, I’m so hungry, everything is closed, I’m so hungry, where the hell am I going to eat?

Joe’s Pizza at 4 am glows like a molten cheese bubble in the strange afterhours dark of the closed-down city. A glittering, laughing, sweating, exhausted cross-section of nightlife clings to this oasis, and spills onto the waiting sidewalk, held upright by booze and the smell of baking pizza. Unlike pizzeria of the moment, Artichoke, whose counter people serve with a slowness that seems lackadaisical or sadistic, depending on how hungry you are, the service at Joe’s is brisk. Orders are asked with a glance as a fresh pie is spun into slices that are scooped, drooping onto paper plates exchanged for cash–fast, fast, fast. If you’re lucky enough to snag a fresh mozzarella slice right from the oven ($2.75), go for it. The regular slice ($2.50) is good too, with sweet tomato sauce, the right balance of cheese and a thin, chewy crust that’s got a teeny bit of burnt crispness. The crust, however does not hold up for long, so the slices are best eaten HOT and immediately–and if you happen in at a slower time, it’s worth the wait for a fresh pie. There’s little to no seating to be had, but there’s benches in Father Demo Park across the street.

Since that evening Joe’s has been my go-to spot when I’m in the area at some unseemly hour, looking for a little comfort at the tail-end of a long night.

Joe’s Pizza 7 Carmine Street Open every day 9 am - 5 am

They must have read my mind. I’d been wishing that Dessert Truck, my favorite mobile dessert concept, would pull up the stakes and cruise on over to the East Side. Just last week the Dessert Truck sent out an alert to their Facebook fans saying that because there’s reduced foot traffic on University Place since NYU closed for summer, they’ll now be parked on Third Avenue and St. Mark’s Place.

Yessss. Now not only is the truck convenient to me, and the subway (and who doesn’t have to ride the 6 train at some point), but it’s joining a little snack-peddling caravan in Astor Place, including the Mud Truck, Mr. Softee, and the Wafels & Dinges truck - which is usually up on 14th street but two recent sightings near the Cube point to a possible new locale Update: The waffle truck parked at Astor Place is not Wafels & Dinges. It is a knockoff Wafels & Dinges.

The downside–Astor Place sucks to hang out in, unless you’re skateboarding, playing a saxophone, or selling glass bubblers (nymag.com’s has an article about the total mish-mash that the public space around Cooper Union has become). Your best bet if you’d like to sit and snack might be to find a quiet stoop on 9th or 10th street, or meander up Stuyvensant Street to St. Mark’s Church.

Original Snackish post about Dessert Truck

Dessert Truck, Third Avenue and St. Mark’s Place, 6pm-12am, every day (except when it rains, usually)

Doughnut Plant is probably the only eating establishment I have visited twice in one day. It’s that good.

First, there are the yeast donuts, in glazed, jelly-filled, and creme-filled varieties. They’re squarish, faced-sized and unbelievably light, with airy, melty dough under a sticky layer of sweet glaze ($2). Perennial faves are vanilla bean, Vahlrona chocolate (messy), and peanut butter and jelly. There’s a rainbow of seasonal flavors too, including fresh strawberry, pomegranate, pumpkin, and banana pecan. Vanilla is simplicity perfected if you usually find donuts too sweet or too fried. Often there’s one fresh from the oven on a baking sheet poking through the kitchen window, and they’ll drop that one in your bag instead of the one on display in the shelves.

Then there are the cake donuts–smaller, round with a hole, with a more condensed, doughier middle; a closer relative to the traditional donut (think Krispy Kreme). Tres Leches ($2) has a ring of sweet custard running through it–a phenomenal improvement over Boston Creme, because you get just a little bit of creme with every bite. If you must try only one donut here, get this one.

There are the cinnamon rolls, huge doughy spirals encased in a crackling glaze, spiked with swollen raisins, and cinnamon-sugary filling growing more concentrated as you eat your way into its sticky heart.

And finally there’s the dude behind the counter, who is pretty much the embodiment of the happy gourmand donut shopping vibe. He’s always smiling. I love buying donuts from that guy.

There’s only a couple of seats, so count on getting your donuts to go, and munching your way down Grand Street. Plan to get an extra one, so you don’t have to make that second trip.

Doughnut Plant, 379 Grand Street (also sold at Dean & Deluca, but best to go to the source)
Tues-Sun 6:30 am - 6:30 pm

And now, a foray to the dark side. Ever since I discovered the Department of Health web site listing New York City restaurant inspection reports, I find myself returning from time to time, always with mingled fascination and dread. Sometimes I eat out in total ignorance of how “dirty” the place might be, and sometimes I consciously forget. I like to have the kitchen in plain sight; but then again I’m always watching out for something that’s off when I can see it. Being Snackish, I’m not supposed to be too-easily squeamish about what happens in there. However, that’s a facade that’s oh so easy to crack.

Enter at your own risk.