W Wheels of plenty
A Serbian burger guru is driving his home flavours around Joburg, and leading a food-truck revolution
HENCE cometh the food truck? Oh steely purveyor of gourmet sustenance, tempting alternative to the main street mundane, to what place do your tracks trace back?
The answer, my fellow trenchermen and women, can be found in the annals of 19th century American history.
Back when the west was busy being won and waves of bold pilgrims crept closer to the California coastline, a man named Charles Goodnight decided to get creative with an old Army surplus wagon. After retrofitting it with kitchen amenities and loading up on easy-to-preserve food stocks, this enterprising rancher would follow the sun and serve honest chow to rural types hankering after the comforts of civilisation.
It was a business model that quickly caught on. From the ‘‘night owl” wagons that fed nocturnal workers of New England to the tongue-blazing taco vans roaming on down Mexico way, history tells us that the pairing of food and vehicles proved to be one hell of a match. And why not?
Requiring less start-up capital than a brick and mortar establishment and free from the horrors of exorbitant rent, the food truck is the perfect vehicle for restaurateurs to make their mark. Already a $1-billion industry in the US, it is making inroads in SA too.
This is thanks to people like Bojan Ivanovic. Tired of what he refers to as ‘‘corporate slavery” the 34-year-old packed up his IT career and last year co-founded Balkan Burger with his sister Lidija, 29.
“I was always passionate about Serbian food, dude,” he says over coffee at a hipster locale in Braamfontein.
“So when the Neighbourgoods Market started, my sister was like, we have to do something there. So we did, and the first few months were dismal until we invented this one product known as the Balkan Burger. And then the rest, as they say, was history.”
Assembled by hand from AAAgrade organic beef, Ivanovic’s creation is probably the most time-intensive hamburger I’ve ever wrapped my bony fingers around. Not to mention one of the best-tasting. Partly because the vegetable component is folded up in the patty (to prevent the bun from going all soggy from the juices) and partly because of the special mincing technique that involves no less than three different cuts of meat.
Ivanovic says it’s a complex food science he picked up in the south Serbian city of Leskovac. A carnivore’s Mecca, each year in September the city plays host to a barbecue street festival known as Roštiljijada that attracts well over 700 000 people.
“We have a family member living there who is a professor at one of the culinary schools. He taught me about the mincing process and showed me all sorts of tricks.”
This ain’t your average Royale with cheese. This is some seriously tasty left-field fare that’ll knock your taste buds out of the ballpark. Which is why Ivanovic didn’t want a conventional shop.
“It just didn’t fit with our unconventional brand values. So we decided to keep the differentiation going and build ourselves a food truck — or should I say bus.”
A 1967 short-body Bedford saved from a sand dune near the Namibian border, the Balkan Burger Bus is an impressive piece of machinery.
“It took us about four months to restore and build,” says Ivanovic. “It’s got a Lexus LS400 V8 engine with a Tiptronic gearbox and straight pipes. So it sounds pretty mean.”
There’s also a custom-built African mahogany dashboard and a special modular kitchen (designed on AutoCAD to accommodate a crew of five) that Ivanovic and a friend assembled with the help of some YouTube tutorial videos.
“You must see some of our welding work,” he laughs, “It’s ****ing atrocious, man, but it works.” Indeed it does. A common sight at festivals, markets and office parks, the Balkan Burger Bus is becoming well known around Johannesburg. It’s also been a source of controversy.
“Originally our modus operandi was to do the classical New York food-truck vibe where we just rock up on the street and sell to whoever happens to be there. But there have been huge challenges, from management districts and restaurant owners right through to residents’ societies. They just don’t understand the concept. They think we are a threat, but we are not.”
Ivanovic views his business as an urban catalyst, a point where people can meet and share ideas while filling their bellies with feel-good fast food.
Unfortunately it’s going to take some time and no doubt many meetings with the city council before Balkan Burger and other food trucks, such as Tutto and Full of Beans, are allowed to trade freely on our streets. Until then they have to stick to catering at events, which is a shame for us urban workers looking for variety.
Despite this bureaucracy, Ivanovic remains optimistic about the road ahead. He helped form The Mother Truckers — an association that aims to build, nurture and protect our local food-truck culture. “Our vision is to drive the food-truck revolution here in South Africa,” he says.
“At the moment Joburg is oversaturated by the big brands, dude. People want something new and exciting and that’s where we come in — food made with love and passion, using only the best ingredients.”
Yeah, this industry, so rooted in the past, seems to have a promising future. And that’s enough to make anyone salivate. LS @tomfalkiner111