In addition to stacked bags of pre-cut mango — a rare glimpse of gold on a gloomy day — this pushcart is hung with rations of chicharrón de harina. The latter, made from flour, mimics the crunch of fried pork skin, or chicharrón, and usually is sold under that shorter name. Although chicharrón de harina is often processed with lard to enhance the flavor, no one will mistake these chicharrones for real pork rinds, especially when they've been molded into winsome forms. Some would say that the bags are filled with "pinwheels"; in honor of a favorite childhood pasta, I think of them as "wagon wheels."
Since I was headed toward what might prove to be a massive meal, however, I didn't stop to snack. What caught my attention was the arm's-length attitude of this fellow toward (presumably) his pushcart. Especially in the wake of the most recent presidential election, I've noted similar positioning among multiple street-food vendors whose operations seem to be unlicensed and who themselves might be on uncertain ground. A possible rationale: When customers make themselves known, the vendor can step up and serve them; when uniformed police or apparent government functionaries show their faces, the vendor can hang back and maintain deniability. Although the pushcart would be sacrificed, the vendor would be more likely to walk away.
Mango and chicharron vendor
Fordham Heights, Bronx
