Oh food trucks… you are everything I love and hate about lunchtime in Los Angeles. I love you, because you bring fun and interesting food to my neighborhood every day, saving me from another visit to [insert boring fast food chain near you office here]. You get me outside, and interacting with people on the street. You make my lame co-workers willing to eat a less than healthy lunch they would otherwise balk at (“Korean buffet? Meh… Kogi is outside? Let’s do it!”) But there are a lot of you. And not all of you are good. And sometimes you are hard to find. And you have made me hate the words “fusion tacos” and “seasoned fries”. And most of you take too long. (Isn’t street food supposed to be fast?) And some of your concepts are ridiculous, and not well thought out. And if it wasn’t for you I could probably get away with pretending Twitter doesn’t exist. Did I mention there are too many of you?
Clearly my relationship with food trucks is complicated, but my fat stomach was still pretty excited to move to L.A. and be unleashed into the wild street food scene. When I first got here, Kogi was already on my radar (I don’t live under a rock), but beyond that I didn’t quite know where to start. Thankfully (?) a few names kept popping up over and over again. Grilled Cheese Truck (how could that be bad?), Cool Haus (I like ice cream sandwiches!), India Jones, Komodo… and of course, The Buttermilk Truck, which for some reason I kind of brushed off. (Here’s where I admit I’m an idiot.) For some reason the whole “buttermilk” thing didn’t register with me. Buttermilk pancakes? Buttermilk biscuits? It didn’t click (I think I thought it was dessert or something?) until I heard the words fried chicken and waffles.
I want to go to there.