The first thing I noticed as I walked along New Haven’s Long Wharf was a palpable sense of division. On one side of the sidewalk was a series of vibrant food trucks, whose dazzling colors, neon signs, and vibrant flags beckoned customers to try their delights. On the other side, the sea: a frosted mass of blue, each wave crashing onto the shore with a thunderous clap.
It was a cloudy day, and the sounds of screeching seagulls against the roar of the wind harmonized with the high-pitched yells of the food truck employees.
“Tacos, esquites, enchiladas! Come and get your quesadillas!”
Each truck displayed a wide array of food choices, from churros to tacos al pastor. I tried to resist temptation.
I had come to interview different vendors about the food truck community, New Haven’s involvement in the Long Wharf, and the external challenges vendors were facing. What I discovered instead was polarization. Vendors disagreed about government intervention, the existence of a street-vendor community, and the futures of their businesses.
Edwin Sweeney, 86, is the co-owner of Sweeney Hot Dog King. I stumbled upon him accidentally, not initially registering his unassuming truck, which was almost camouflaged against the overcast sky. He was sitting on a stool alone in a dark corner of the interior. I had to lean into the small opening to ask him questions.
“We’ve been here 64 years down Long Wharf, selling hot dogs. We were the first food truck down here….”
Sweeney explained that the food truck landscape started to change rapidly with the rise of Latin businesses in the area.
According to DataHaven, there has been a 15% increase in New Haven’s total immigrant population from 2010 to 2020.
Sweeney also highlighted a citywide rise in prices—everything from insurance to rent. He described this economic shift as “a little tough.”
“A lot of businesses can’t afford the overheads. The food, the supplies, and the rent are expensive.”
The unstable financial situation has exacerbated Sweeney’s relationships with other vendors. When asked if there was a sense of “community” within the Long Wharf, Sweeney stated, “Well, we do talk to each other, but you got to take care of your own.”
This isolationist approach is not necessarily shared by the other businesses in the Long Wharf.
Adrian Rodriguez, the owner of the food truck Old Mexico, stated, “There’s always a community, almost like a camaraderie, a friendship. Everybody helps each other out.” He explained that he frequently borrows gloves, utensils, napkins, and other supplies from his neighbor vendor, and has also lent out his own.
Jose Santana from the Puerto Rican food truck El Conquistador agreed, saying that the other food trucks offer assistance if any technical issues arise, including machinery failures, broken stoves, and forgotten supplies.
Although the idea of being in a “community” is not embraced by all parties, it does reflect broader issues at play. Sweeney’s social separation from the Latin vendors—who make up the majority of the businesses on Long Wharf—reflects broader divisions in New Haven. Sweeney’s food truck is the only white-owned business in an industry dominated by immigrant vendors. It is also the only food truck serving American cuisine amid a sea of trucks specializing in food from across Latin America.
Sweeney links the rising prices to immigration as a whole.
“Well, let’s face it, they [immigrants] are in the United States. They’ve got to work…They’re looking to make it all in one week, one month, or one year…. Food business used to be the best business. Nobody bothered. The city used to help you. Now it’s all got to have a one-dollar bill in front of it or something,” he said.
The Latine community comprises 31% of New Haven’s population. The dominance of Latin food trucks seems to be a natural byproduct of the city’s changing demographics.
Marianella Gimenez, the cashier of the Mexican food truck La Patrona, commented on this new sense of reality, stating that customers in Long Wharf are overwhelmingly Latine, which explains the increased demand for Latin American food.
Is Sweeney simply failing to adapt to changing consumer tastes? Or, is Latin street food the future of the food truck industry? If the latter is true, Sweeney—representative of an unchanging, “traditional” street food culture—may find it challenging to exist within New Haven’s evolving cultural reality.
Other fissures exist within the New Haven food truck industry. Vendors are divided both on the role that government assistance and regulation should play in their industry and on the efficacy of existing government programs aimed at assisting their community. Maria Corona, the owner of La Chalupa—a Mexican food truck first opened in 2016—spoke positively about government grants aimed at assisting small businesses.
Other vendors were not as positive.
Sweeney commented, “The city ain’t helping us. It’s just too expensive. Before, this was all free property for us to use. We used to pay real cheap for our licenses, but now everybody’s after the money.”
Rodriguez, owner of Old Mexico, expressed frustration with the new operating hours.
“[The Long Wharf] is shutting down at seven-thirty… it used to be shutting down at nine, and that really hurt our pockets a lot, because everybody comes out at night and now we have to shut down at seven.”
El Conquistador’s owner Santana complained about the overall state of the Long Wharf. He hopes the government will remodel and clean the streets, which will “give it more life.”
One common theme touched on by a wide swath of Long Wharf’s street vendors is the difficulty that comes with seasonal changes. In general, summer is the season that sees the most profit. As the weather becomes colder, consumption of street food declines. Giminez said that vendors’ main priority during the winter is to “survive.”
“You just have to keep going,” Corona of La Chalupa declared.
While winter is a predictable challenge that vendors can plan for in advance, the COVID-19 pandemic caught Long Wharf’s vendors unprepared.
“[The pandemic] put me out of business for two months at least, and I was going to stir crazy because I’m a workaholic. My wife threw me out of the house a couple of times…Let’s face it, people had to stay home, no income. Life itself now ain’t like it was 30 or 40 years ago,” Sweeney noted.
Although the majority of the food trucks I encountered were relatively new—some only a few months old—those that survived the pandemic continue to feel its lingering effects.
La Chalupa, which started in 2016 and endured the pandemic, has continued to take hits. The owner, Corona, stated, “This year…what can I tell you, sales weren’t like they were in 2019. There was a significant change. People were scared. This [past] summer, there wasn’t much activity. We didn’t get the sales we expected. It didn’t happen.”
The food truck industry is precarious. Margins are narrow and competition is fierce. From drops in sales from seasonal changes to the sustained impact of the pandemic, food truck owners are in a never-ending struggle to keep their businesses afloat. Although newer businesses like El Conquistador claim to be “doing well,” veterans have a more jaded view of what is to come. When asked if he was optimistic about the future, Sweeney had a clear answer: “Not really.”