The Great Food Truck Debate
A Screw it Wine Editorial
By Dathan Kazsuk
Sometimes, you need to speak your mind. Or let Dathan be Dathan, as I always say. But today is Festivus—so I’m entitled to announce my grievances with y’all. And if you don’t like it, well ...
This latest rant is brought to you by a newfound absurdity, an outlandish intrusion into personal liberty. When I visit a winery with a food truck on the premises, I’m not allowed to bring my own food.
Yes, you heard that right—no cheese, no charcuterie, no lovingly prepared picnic spread that you spent hours planning—now it’s just you, your wine and whatever the food truck is slinging that given afternoon.
I get it—perhaps the food truck doesn’t want to be outshined by some brie and a carefully curated selection of artisanal crackers you bought at Harris Teeter. How dare they have to compete with the Teet!
A food truck should be seen as an optional bonus, not a mandatory obligation. It should be a “Hey, if you forgot to pack a snack, we’ve got you covered” deal. By no means am I saying you shouldn’t have a food truck—but let people still be able to bring their snacks.
Here’s the kicker: I’ve been covering the food and wine industry for over 20 years, and I’ve heard enough horror stories about food trucks to fill a cheap paperback. If you’re not one of the villains in this tale, then relax and take a breath.
But for the rest of you—yeah, you know who you are—you’re the ones who flake on your commitments, leaving wineries high and dry because you found a better gig or decided that today was a good day to call in sick.
So why, oh why, do wineries feel compelled to take on the demands of these food trucks? If your food is worth the grease it’s cooked in, and you’ve got a name people recognize, you’ll make your money. The world doesn’t need to be turned upside down just to accommodate your deep-fried fantasies. Yet here we are, picnicking in the back of an SUV like third-world refugees in wine country because the winery decided that our homemade delights and packed condiments weren’t welcome on the premises that specific weekend.
The winery will say, “But we post our schedule on social media! We clearly state in our FAQs that outside food isn’t allowed when a food truck is onsite!” Or, “We’re privately owned and can do as we wish.” And yeah, I know it’s your business, and you can do what you want, but it doesn’t seem like a battle you should want to ride into with a wooden horse.
It’s not like someone is rolling in with a wheel barrel full of Bojangles Supreme Tailgate boxes, ready to feed the entire population of your winery. Plus, have you considered dietary needs? Jen, for instance, is currently on a strict diet. Sure, we break it with wine, but she’s been so disciplined lately that she deserves a weekend cheat day.
What if we want to bring some fruit, dark chocolate and a few cubes of cheese—light, low-fat stuff that keeps her on track? But no, the only option is to pay for a greasy, heart-stopping burger or go hungry. How’s that for fairness?
And another thing—let’s talk about the food trucks themselves. A burger might pair nicely with a beer, but Mr. Shakey’s Hot-Dawg Shindig isn’t precisely what I envision when savoring a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon.
Sure, tailgating at a UNC game or outside the arena before a Canes game, but at a winery? Really? Wineries are supposed to be about elegance and sophistication—a place where the finer things in life are appreciated—a place to escape for the weekend and enjoy the peace around the vines. And now you’ve got a loud, rumbling generator echoing through the vineyard.
Imagine this: you show up at the winery, and the food truck is scheduled from 3 p.m. to 6 p.m. You arrive fashionably late at 5 p.m., hoping to finally reach into the cooler you’ve been keeping secure in the backseat. But no, the gatekeepers of the winery tell you that your cooler is verboten, and if you want to eat, you must do so from the sacred food truck.
So you saunter over, only to find that 85 percent of the menu is sold out. Now what? Order something you don’t want or leave with your stomach growling? What kind of nonsense is this?
Here’s a radical idea: tell the food truck that if they want to park their wheeled kitchen at your winery, they’re welcome to do so. But no promises, no guarantees. Just that you’ll have a crowd over the weekend, and if their food is good enough, they’ll sell some grub.
Let the people who want to sample Jimmy Swanson’s Mega Burger with a side of “crack” fries do so. Meanwhile, let the rest of us enjoy a glass of wine with the food we desire and your wine, in peace, without someone dictating our every bite—or lack thereof.
Kazsuk is the co-founder of Triangle Around Town LLC and Screw it Wine. He has over 30 years of experience in journalism and 15 years of experience working and writing in the wine industry.