The Underground Churros Scene
The stale trail mix, dusty soda cans, and pre-Cold War candy bars sold at newsstands -- alongside nudie mags and Kardashian-loaded celebrity rags -- pretty much make up the subway's food scene.
Victoria Bekiempis A token from the subway.
But deep inside the 59th and Lexington station, where the 4,5, and 6 lines meet the N/Q/R, a sumptuous surprise awaits.
During rush hour most days, a vendor -- who declined to be named, interviewed, or photographed -- sells stacks of churros on the N/Q/R platform.
The Spanish sweet snacks -- if you're unfamiliar with them, think chewy, funnel-cake sticks with a splash of salted butter and sprinkling of sugar -- cost 50 cents apiece. The outside has a crisp chewiness, and the inside is fluffy and moist. A hint of cinnamon lends subtle nuttiness to the doughnutty dessert.
The churros don't come hot, and their grease level does merit a napkin. Still, they stand on their own in terms of flavor and quality -- not just because the kiosk options miss the mark. These churros are gorge-worthy. And, unlike most things you unexpectedly encounter in the subway -- rats, syringes, foam-mouthed crazies -- these churros can't cause bodily harm, save for a bellyache if you eat too many.
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