How do we feel about NYC nut vendors?

I am literally "nuts 4 nuts." As corny as that phrase may be, it sums up my feelings pretty well. Walnuts, pecans, pralines, almonds: I love them in all the weird shapes and sizes and degrees of saltiness they come in. They're nutritional, great for on-the-go snacking, and incredibly versatile (what other food product can you appreciate both coated in chocolate AND in a green bean casserole?). Slowly peeling back the foil seal on a jar of Planter's mixed nuts holds a certain level of anticipation for me which only Carly Simon can put into words.

So, naturally, every time I approach a "Nuts 4 Nuts" stand on the street, my senses go awry: I could be in the middle of the most profound thought I've ever thought, or about to get hit by a cab; but once that warm, buttery, sweet smell hits my nostrils, the world stops. My mind goes to nuts. And my stomach says "get them."

Apparently, I'm not the only one for whom NYC nut vendors hold a special intrigue. Someone with a puppet at Spike thought it would be funny to go around to nut vendors and subject them to "nut jokes." It's a little bit funny...

STREET PUPPET: NYC Nut Vendors | Web Junk 20 | SPIKE.com

Given my borderline nut obsession, the prevalence of nut vendors, and the cheap price tag of a little bag, it may surprise you to learn that I've never actually purchased nuts from a "Nuts 4 Nuts" stand. Why? Someone once told me, when I was a little girl, that street vendors cook their hot dogs in dirty city water, and I've been skeptical of every food establishment on wheels ever since (except ice cream trucks, of course, but they sell prepackaged stuff). So whenever I feel the strong urge to buy a $1 envelope of crunchy, sugar-coated nuts, a little unreasonable voice inside my head says "oh, but those nuts might be dirty."

Are my thoughts unreasonable? I suspect they are. How do my readers feel about NYC nut vendors? Take my poll and let's find out:

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