In Pursuit of : Tacos Everyday for a Week
When my Editor came to me and asked if I wanted to get paid to head to 36th and V Street to write about street tacos, I did my very best to hide my enthusiasm and remain as professional as possible.
“I gotta wait until I get into my car,” I told myself. It’s not like I haven't been paid to rate food before, but each time feels like the first: someone is giving me money to eat good food and tell others about it!
Plus, tacos. Tacos are amazing.
Upon getting into my car and starting it, my Spotify connected to the “recommended songs" that the app had ready for me, and the very first one was completely out of left field. Gregorian monks started chanting and that’s when I knew it was a sign that this was my holy mission.
“Try a few food trucks," My Editor said.
HA! "A few,” is two: fat chance I start following instructions now in my life in the face of trying many tacos, especially on my new holy mission.
Driving from the Daily Record near 72nd and Dodge to 36th and V in south Omaha was like going home, almost literally. I grew up two blocks away under the shadow of Saints Peter and Paul church, except back then there were more Polish people in the area. Upon arriving at 36th and V Streets, I pulled into the parking lot of the (I kid you not) “Mr. Butts" convenience store. In its parking lot the first truck, “Tacos Charrito," has a sweet deal that other trucks can’t beat: two-dollar tacos, flat.
I initially bought two pork, or “carnitas," tacos. As per my job, I had to take a picture of the truck and food, but as I looked around, I saw no table and it was quite cold outside, so I jumped in my car, took out my camera, and tried to finesse an Instagram-worthy picture. Then, I bit into it and I was instantly blown away by the fried tortilla – so much better than those of the street tacos I had had before! I was so taken in by the semi-crispy, semi-soft, and semi-oily double-shell that I completely forgot to ask myself what I thought about the carnitas. Maybe two bites into both wonderfully hot and delicious tacos, or maybe ten bites, I was finished. Then I sat, alone in my car, looking out longingly at the “Tacos Charrito" food truck with Gregorian monks chanting in Latin who were obviously telling me to go buy more.
But alas, I needed to check out other trucks and let the good people of Omaha know what I was going to know. So, each day that week I went to a new truck somewhere along Q street, which was my general metric (saddeningly, honestly, and wonderfully there are too many taco trucks for me to be able to afford.)
On Tuesday I went to about 37th and Q streets to, “Tres Puertos,” a food truck that specializes in seafood with a Hispanic twist. Though they had much on the menu in the way of spicy sushi, I wanted to hone in on which truck had the best tacos, so after I attempted some Spanglish to ask for their best taco, the lady in the window asked simply if I wanted “fish." I, in my stumbling attempt, replied with, “da." Which, dear reader, is Russian. I also rediscovered in my old age that it’s very possible to blush heavily in the cold of a Midwestern winter.
The taco she handed me was not fish, but fried shrimp with some strange orange sauce that you sometimes find with seafood. The taco itself was not presentable at all: it looked like it had just gotten back from a night of drinking tequila after a bad breakup, (so not worth a picture). It did however have a soft and light texture that went down easily, and honestly would have gone better with a crunchier shell, rather than the normal soft and flimsy ones that most of the trucks use. It was more than twice as much in price for a taco than the first truck.
On Wednesday, “Fronteras," waits for connoisseurs in front of a church not much further away at 41st and Q Streets. The woman inside spoke English well enough that I didn’t blush when asking after her best two tacos. These had fresh diced onions and the usual cilantro, both lending to a light, fresh taste against the softly spiced, warm beef topped with green salsa that added a solid Hispanic kick. I had no complaints when driving away other than not having more tacos, which I suppose is a good complaint for a food business to have.
Thursday was “El Alteno Taqueria,” at the group of Hispanic food trucks at 60th and Q Streets. While the tacos were good, and if I was near, I wouldn’t mind stopping there again. They didn’t stand out in the lineup. Noteworthy in that there was good seating and other food trucks in a line, and that there were many different food options for many people.
When Friday came I was driving down L street near 60th when I spotted a food truck hidden against a backdrop of all those car salesman lots and decided to give it a try. “Taqueria La Barca." Ordering two pork tacos, I found myself surprised when I found not just the usual plain diced onions, but cooked onions that had that perfect bronze sear. The shell itself was slightly fried, and together with a dash of lime juice, cilantro, and amazing green salsa, I bit into a Hispanic festival. Light in some places, spice from the green and warmth from the carnitas. Devouring them was no longer a choice but a law of nature imposed upon me like the will of gravity.
I could readily say they were easily the best pork street tacos, but… I had something pull at me to go back and try the first food truck again, “Tacos Charrito." Two of their beef tacos were far simpler than those of “La Barca’s” pork ones, but they just hit in different way: the fried shell was just wonderfully crispy and hot like a Mexican sun. The beef was tender, but strong and spiced so well. And for two dollars flat? I could honestly eat them all day without end.
My holy mission ended with no real end; I could not answer “Which street tacos are the best?"
Dear reader, I cannot decide which is the greatest, but I can recommend that for amazing pork tacos, go to “Taqueria La Barca,” and for quite fantastic beef ones (and the best shells), “Tacos Charrito." Like Spanish Princesses, they have both stolen a little piece of my heart that I shall never get back.
Austin Petak is an aspiring novelist and freelance journalist who loves seeking stories and the quiet passions of the soul. If you are interested in reaching out to me to cover a story, you may find him at austinpetak@gmail.com.
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