What is our fascination with the street? Why do fashion magazines print street style and food bloggers idolise street food? Because the street is the common denominator of our lives. No matter where we’re going – whether it’s the top floor of a swanky skyscraper, or a dive bar in the basement of a converted warehouse – we pass each other on the pavement. We stand at the same intersection, and surge forward at the same time when the little green man glows. We weave past the same faces, noticing the familiar or attractive; we check our watches, mind our step, and tap to the beat of our music (drowned out by the occasional siren). Here, surrounded by this swirling throng of people, we really feel alive.

Street food represents who we are, and what we crave. A little slice of culture. In places as old as Pompeii, there are the remains of snack shops with painted menu items on the walls. In old Aztec marketplaces, you could buy tamales and gruel made from maize. In the American Colonial period, street vendors sold roasted corn ears and pepper pot soup.

Today, the food we find on the streets is still culturally defining. Only in Tokyo will you find good Ramen being sold on street corners, alongside Okonomiyaki (pancakes) and Takoyaki (fried octopus balls). In Shanghai, you’ll see steam rising from roadside carts selling soft, succulent soup dumplings (Xiao long bao). In New York, you’ll be accosted by vendors selling hot dogs or falafels at every block. And in Madrid, you’ll follow the smell of cinnamon and fried dough until you find the nearest churros.

Over the last decade, chefs have seized upon the popularity of street food by making it their own. Hot dogs and roasted chestnuts? Not a chance. Nowadays, budding chefs sell gourmet creations ranging from pulled pork buns to kimchi quesadillas to beer-battered fried avocado tacos. Food vans usually specialise in a certain type of food, whether it be pies, dumplings, tacos, burgers or noodles The possibilities are limitless.

The first food truck was invented in 1886 by Texas rancher Charles Goodnight, who converted an old US army truck into “The Chuck Wagon”, which sold black-eyed peas, beans, corn, beef and the occasional catfish. This was designed to feed the cattlemen herding cattle westward after the American Civil War.

Moving into the twentieth-century, mobile canteens were used on army bases and construction sites as fuel for blue collar workers.

In the twenty-first century, however, food vans have radically transformed their image from shabby to chic. Young chefs, disheartened by the high start-up costs of opening a restaurant, have turned to food vans instead, where they can focus on specific foods and ingredients to show off their skills, creating signature dishes which are accessible to anyone who follows their location on Twitter.

Food van culture is now so popular with hipsters and foodies that it’s in danger of becoming mainstream.

Previously just in New York, food vans now appear in almost every major city around the globe. The Jaffle Truck, in Sydney, Australia, sells Jaffles (toasted sandwiches) named after celebrities, such as the David Jafflehoff (spaghetti Bolognese and cheese), Jean Claude Van Ham (leg ham, cheese and tomato sandwich), and the Goldie Corn (creamed corn and cheese). The Eat Art Truck offers spicy tofu wraps, pulled pork with sweet sauce in a brioche bun, and hot chocolate cake topped with dulche de leche and salted peanuts.

In London, the Jamon Jamon truck sells Paella in bubbling cauldrons full of prawns, squid, mussels, vegetables, rice and meat. The Luardos truck specialises in Mexican street food, offering chicken burritos with chewy chorizo and tangy guacamole.

The lure of food vans is very real, but it’s hard to pinpoint exactly why. Is it because we’re an obscenely impatient generation, frustrated by the 2 seconds it takes to load an internet browser, and we expect our food to arrive shortly thereafter? Or because we’re a disposable generation, prone to replacing things rather than fixing them, and using paper plates instead of washing dishes?

Whatever the reason, food vans are perfect for student life. Running late for your first lecture and you haven’t had breakfast because you’re out of milk? Or stumbling out of Lola Lo’s at 3am with a craving for bacon and there’s the Van of Life, its fluorescent lights beaming down like the stairway to heaven.

Or you’re caught without a coat in a flash downpour, and the nearest shelter is the awning of the Cambridge Crêpes which (conveniently) makes the meanest nutella crepe in town. Nothing like a belly full of melted chocolate to thaw your frozen limbs.

The food vans in Cambridge have also seriously upped their stakes in the gourmet game recently. Aside from the much loved, mysteriously titled Taste of Cambridge, offering up enough falafel to feed a small vegan army, in recycled, compostable packaging no less, King’s Parade is now holding host to the brilliantly named Mo’ Pho. With a dozen or so all star online reviews in the past month alone, this fresh eastern street food fare will win over the most well travelled (and tasted). If you don’t believe me, then check out his twitter feed of mouth watering spicy satay udon updates.

Perhaps the clearest sign of times to come, though, is the arrival of Steak and Honour, a bright red Citroen H Van, manned by Leo Riethoff, last found at the michelin-starred Alimentum. Trust me when I tell you that their freshly minced ‘local riverside chuck’ burger, in an artisan brioche bun (the van’s words, not mine) will be enough to ensure you never look sideways at the Van of Life again. Eat, savour, weep, repeat.

In a society that worships mobility, food vans represent freedom and transience – the ability to go anywhere, and feed anyone, any time. Recipes aren’t trapped within the four walls of a restaurant, or limited to people who can afford a seat.
Anyone and everyone can walk up to a truck and leave 10 minutes later with a delicious meal. No fancy dress, no tie, no plastic. Just food, the way it should be.

Cambridge Street Food: Varsity selects

The Hot Sausage

The Hot Sausage Co. cart sits on the edge of Sidney Street and Market Street, just outside the Holy Trinity Church. The vendor, in his boater hat and cheery candy-striped apron, turns sausages over constantly, to meet the regular stream of customers that come looking for a quick bite. The specials change daily but the Caribbean sausage, delicately spiced with chilli and peppers, is a regular crowd-pleaser – chewy and satisfying, with a slight kick of spice to get your tastebuds tingling. He faces some stiff competition though, from the Original German Sausage cart, sitting 100 metres away. The bratwurst sold here is the real deal, almost as good as the bratwurst you can buy in Germany, but at the much cheaper price of £3, as opposed to the £60 you’d need to fly to Bavaria.

Porky's Pulled Pork

Around the corner, just off Market Square, is Porky’s Pulled Pork cart, which offers pulled pork with barbecue sauce, apple sauce, coleslaw or rocket salad. Unlike cafés (where ready-made sandwiches go to die), all the buns at Porky’s are made-to-order. The chef pulls the pork out of its little refrigerated home, lets it sizzle on the stove for a few minutes, and piles into a bun with the sauce of your choice. The pork might be a little dry, and the apple sauce comes from a tin, but it’s a steal for £3, and it’ll satisfy you until dinner.