Gastro Tragedy | Food Truck Davids vs Bocadillo Goliath

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Once upon a time, on a hilltop not so far away, there dwelled a giant. The giant was famous, known far and wide by the name Aramark. The name may be reminiscent of the self-doubting hero Aragorn son of Arathorn from Lord of the Rings. But, no. Aramark was a greedy giant, ugly as sin, and reigned over an international macro-catering company that came to dominate and destroy the age-old concept of decent food at a decent price everywhere touched by his ogre-breath and bocadillos plastificados. One of Aramark’s favourite cave-dwellings will sound familiar to some: the great Montjuïc, inside Barcelona’s olympic stadium. But, as with all greedy tyrants, the day eventually comes when the good people decide to live no more under this contractual ogre-thumb of shite food. The stadium citizens called 3.5 noble knights to the rescue: local, small businesses that care for quality and human contact, riding trusty steeds (in the form of humble food trucks – the 0.5 being a cherry-red coffee truck). But! As our humble heroes set up camp outside the stadium, in full compliance with local authorities, Aramark awoke, angry, and reared his ugly head. The goliath sent spies and minions out to harass these modern-day Davids, and made calls to powerful ogre-influenced friends (multi-million euro contracts do that) in order to isolate them, and thus to continue to ensnare hungry, unsuspecting travellers with 17€ menús del día de mierda. True story. And in this unhappy ending, controlling those who control the rules and regulations served to suffocate even noble knights.

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