Truck Treks: Cheese E. Wagon

 
Why did the chicken cross the road?
To get to 33rd and Market.

What do you say when somebody takes your quesadilla?
Nacho cheese!

What’s the hardest decision you’ll make during lunch?
To brie, or not to brie?

What’s cheesier than childhood jokes?
The Cheese E. Wagon

Mike Sullivan tosses crimson spices on a lightly oiled tortilla. He slaps it on the grill and it sizzles, flakes of seasoning flying upward. Seasoning and toasting the tortilla before filling it makes for a quesadilla with an exquisite crunch, he explains to me. As I wait at the window of the Cheese E. Wagon on the corner of 33rd and Market, bundled up Drexel students scurry past and a bitter wind sweeps through. But warm, inviting scents and friendly conversation from the chef and owner, Sullivan, make the cold worth bearing.

Neighboring La Dominique Creperie and the Insomnia Cookie truck, the Cheese E. Wagon is impossible to miss. Sullivan, himself, airbrushed the vehicle walls with splotches of yellow, orange, and brown, to resemble – you guessed it – cheese.

The menu is straightforward: a handful of grilled cheeses, a few quesadillas, a burger, and one or two daily specials. Sullivan’s number one seller is the Southwestern Chicken Quesadilla, with grilled chicken, a cheese blend, pico de gallo and red pepper coulis. Though the dessert quesadilla and the grilled cheeses sound irresistibly decadent, I keep it simple with a $7 veggie quesadilla – mozzarella, roasted vegetables, pico de gallo, and a drizzle of pesto.

Sullivan spins around the cramped truck, grabbing zucchini and tomatoes, shreds of mozzarella, and the vibrant green pesto. The Cheese E. Wagon has only been in business since October, but the motions appear routine for Sullivan. There are no timers, teaspoons, or tongs. Just a careful eye for measurement and the agile hands of a veteran chef – which he undoubtedly is.

Sullivan has been around the block a few times, literally and figuratively. He earned his Associates Degree in Culinary Arts at the Restaurant School in Walnut Hill, just a few streets west at 42nd and Walnut. Before exploring his own ventures, he was the Executive Chef at our very own Class of 1920 Commons. When he was recently forced to close his own restaurant, Sullivan decided it was time for the Cheese E. Wagon, a project he’d been dreaming of for some time.

He wraps up my delightfully ooey quesadilla as he describes his passion for the truck. Sullivan refuses to close the styrofoam lid of the clamshell container, desperate for me to finally taste the signature crunch of the tortilla, urging me to take a bite. So I do. And then another, and another, and another, until the quesadilla is nothing but a few specks of burnt cheese on crumpled parchment. Each mouthful is hot, brimming with filling, and undeniably flavorful. The seasoning on the crisp exterior explodes on my tongue, soon yielding to a flood of melty mozzarella.

When I’ve devoured the treat, Sullivan smirks with satisfaction. My frozen toes are the only reminder that I’ve been standing in the frost. My mind is happy, and my stomach is happier, and I’m scheduling my next visit between weekday classes.

To put it simply, the Cheese E. Wagon left me cheesin’.