Heat or no heat, Brooklyn feels like a tropical vacation. I mean where else do you see an orange peeler machine, the kind that turns the orange round-and-round while the peel falls away in a ribbon? That’s because Brooklyn is Hispanic among other nationalities, especially during the summer.
Case In Point: I was walking to Staples to buy ink cartridges, as self-employed people do, past vacant lots and bodegas on a busy two-lane street, when I caught sight of a fruit drink operation. There was a truck with lots and lots of fresh fruit, condensed milk, sugar and sugar cane, juice, water, ice, and a blender powered by a simple motor. The fruit man was from the Dominican Republic and the set-up belonged to his cousin. (So many cousins!) A small drink (12-ounces) sold for $4.00 and a large was $6.00. I got a small pineapple-banana-milk “smoothie” and it was tasty, aromatic, filling, and light. The fruit man sold four smoothies in the 15 minutes I was there. That unlikely location turned out to be a goldmine for him and, as the gringos say, a win-win all around.