I’m gonna say it. East County needs a taco truck.
Not a taco joint. Not another Taco Bell. A real, authentic, street taco provider on four wheels.
I don’t know why I didn’t realize this need sooner, given that I have more cilantro in my body than white blood cells, at this point. South Bay taco options have been good to me.
To be honest, I don’t take much of a lunch break here in East County. The news cycle keeps me busy. But I would make an exception for some real tacos.
For those of you who are wondering what I’m talking about, let me describe to you what a real taco is.
San Diego, actually, has the best tacos in America. This is an undisputed fact. Los Angeles like’s to claim that title, but it does not belong to them. I would know. I have eaten their tacos.
No, a real taco is a thing of beauty, and we are blessed in living so close to the border that we get within flavor centimeters of the genuine article.
Picture two corn tortillas the size of your palm, placed slightly adjacent of one another on some kind of wax paper. They are warm, maleable and aromatic. They smell like the feeling of walking down a dusty alleyway towards a beach in the middle of summer.
Now, on top of those tortillas, imagine your favorite kind of meat – adobada. If this isn’t your favorite kind of meat, it will be. It is spicy pork, sliced and layered on a skewer and then slow roasted, bathed in flavors and then sliced again into crispy pieces. The tantilizing combination of tanginess and spiciness is a robust tango of culinary genius.
On its own, adobada can be overpowering, so it is served with cilantro, onions and usually some kind of creamy sauce.
Squeeze a little bit of lime on top and you have yourself a taco.
Of course, I couldn’t tell you how to eat one properly. That is far outside my realm of professional skillsets. I may be the worst taco consumer in Southern California.
Granted, it is a messy endeavor. And if the taco is prepared correctly, it should be greasy enough to put up a fight.
You’ll want napkins.
I have patroned one taco truck in particular for years now. They let me practice my Spanish, sometimes they’ll slip in an extra taco or a free raspado. When I walk up to the truck, they call me Barbie. It’s a chummy relationship overall.
When I ran cross country and track and field, I’d go there after practice, dragging my teammates with me.
We hungry college runners really put some mileage on that taco truck.
Now I just go there after work if it’s been a long day. Sometimes I still drag my friends.
It’s a good spot. Locally owned and well-known around the community.
East County is not short of good community spots, but that doesn’t mean we couldn’t benefit from one more. Especially one that sells tacos.
Source: East County Californian