The first time I saw a proper street-food tent in Seattle, I was sitting at a red light on Aurora and Northgate Way. It was 11 p.m. on a weekday. Most restaurants in the city had been closed for at least two hours. And on the southwest corner, two white tents were lit with utility lights, with smoke billowing from a grill and a line wound around the corner.

My car windows were cracked, and I could smell the char of al pastor on the flat top—which is, undoubtedly, one of the best smells in the world. But the tent did more than just perfume the air. I could also hear the din of dozens of people ordering, scooping pico de gallo, chatting in line. This tent took a dark, unpopulated corner and gave it life. In the words of Charles Mudede: it gives you “that feeling that you’re in a city.”

Wel

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