‘Just follow the taco….FOLLOW THE TACO!’
– Me to my boyfriend on where to meet me at midnight.
The food trucks are coming. Like a food army on wheels, they shall invade our shores/roads with their fresh ingredient laden vehicles, wheeling about town with the purpose of sating drunk and sober appetites the city over. I’ll never forget the first time I became conscious to the existence of the food truck. It was in Brooklyn New York. First I spotted an ice cream truck. Standard. Then I spotted a taco truck. Interesting. I then began to see them all over the city and my love affair was ignited. I got the food truck ball rolling…down the street…and into my mouth.
My friend and I came up with an advertising concept, Mad Men Don Draper Peggy style collab:
‘Food trucks: The lazy person’s ultimate nirvana’
‘The food…you don’t go to it. It comes to you.’
Award-winning stuff right there let me tell you.
I mean restaurants are all very well and so last century and everything. But we live in a world of mobility, of instant gratification, of Siri and touch screens and SMS notifications. Let’s not kid ourselves. When we want a taco, we damn well want a taco and we want it now! Admittedly though, I did walk a fair distance to find La Cantina over the weekend. First up Maria (not her real name), my taco partner-in-crime or ‘friend’ as they refer to them in ordinary, non-taco related circles, accompanied me on their opening night. Searching the Internet for clues, we trawled Twitter and FB and hunted around Hyde Park, attempting to sniff out the wheels or at least clues that would lead us to the wheels of happiness.
Maria: ‘THIS IS IT SHEREE, SOON WE’LL BE EATING TACOS MADE OF DREAMS’
Me: ‘ACCORDING TO THIS OBSCURE TWEET FROM A THIRD PARTY, IT SAYS IT’S IN THE SQUARE, NEXT TO THE STATUE AT APPROX 0100 HOURS’
5 minutes later we were homebound, questioning the viability of an El Maco to fill the taco-void shape in our hearts. The truck had run out of food and left early. Devastation ensued. Angry tweets were regrettably directed at them.
‘Nothing will fill the taco-shaped void in my heart!’ – wailed Maria (although an innuendo would have filled it just fine, that’s what she said).
The next day I stumbled out of a bar at midnight. My boyfriend called me to see where I was. I declared that I would be going to the taco truck. He brazenly declared that he too, would be going to the taco truck. Did I mention that this is my boyfriend and not just a drunken hobo on the street? Okay good, we’re on the same page.
Naturally he asked me for directions and I blurted out the very specific description being that he should ‘just…I don’t know…follow the…taco trail!’ and he obliged willingly, reaching his destination before I did by some miraculous powers combined, Captain Taco or something. And then in a scene reminiscent of Baywatch, I ran in slow motion through Hyde Park, past the stragglers and the drunken homeless people yelling out at me that there was nothing hilarious or funny about how exceptionally attractive I was on this fair evening, so I should stop laughing at their complimenting me.
Finally I reached my destination, my Oasis in the desert within the urban jungle made of concrete. There stood my beautiful handsome and loyal stead, suavely beside the taco truck with a huge grin on his face (DID I MENTION I AM DATING THIS TACO ENTHUSIAST? Just clarifying this fact, get your own taco boyfriend).
We ordered one chicken taco and one beef taco, adorned with a cheese salsa and some other awesome things like chilli corn, before washing it down with delicious, non-alcoholic sangria from Mexico. Our lovely hosts at La Cantina gave us a complimentary chilli chocolate ice cream.
We were on cloud Nuevo.
We finished up with a stroll hand in hand back to an environment ordained for boozing and dancing, knowing full well that no further event throughout the night could possibly compare to our spontaneous midnight taco date. With the exception of a 5am repeat sesh.
So food trucks, if you’re reading this then you know what to do. 5am me.