US post-war development encouraged traffic to bypass the heart of most cities on endless expanses of highway. The Robert Moses-style strategy favored cars to public transportation and detached predetermined communities from a central hub. Slowly these missteps are being fixed in New Haven, where bike lanes and recovered greenways running parallel to redesigned streets link a disconnected harbor with boarding districts.

Walking Water Street leads you into a network of metal and concrete canopies. Before the I-95 underpass on Sargent Drive, a lot full of cars waiting to be stuffed with LACK tables and cloudberry jam from a nearby IKEA surrounds Marcel Breuer and Robert Gatje’s Pirelli Tire Building. Built in 1969, its Brutalist form echoes the faux-modern wares sold nearby. Empty since the Armstrong Rubber Company left town in the 1990s, and aside from brief activation by artist Tom Burr, the structure—a proud geometry of cubes on stilts—is an architectural icon with nothing inside.

Crossing under the expressway, another car park appears, one vibrant with the rolling kitchens of Food Truck Paradise on Long Wharf’s waterfront. The best serve food from the Caribbean and Central and South America. Menus are displayed on the trucks’ sides with collaged flair: dancing peppers with cartoon gloves, the painted sixpack of a Mesoamerican warrior. Trucks glow red or chartreuse; flags wave; beats hum from customers’ cars. Cabeza and lengua tacos from Ixtapa are succulent, with funky morsels of beef head and tongue melting on grilled corn tortillas. Limes and peppery pink radishes cut the rich meat, and blistered or pickled jalapenos add tangy heat.

At neighboring Santa Apolonia, the Cintron family crowns their dishes with allumette-cut nopales and potatoes. The sautéed cactus is a signature move but nothing beats their al pastor. Spit-roasted pork with cilantro, onions, and charred pineapple underlines the layered qualities of central Mexican cooking. Spicy. Savory. Sweet. Balance your paper plate and watch a hundred cars race the freeway. Then walk back through the underpass, past Breuer’s shrine to tires, content from food cooked over them.

2/28/2019