Linni Eats L.A.: Barbecue Trucks

Why do trucks have to equal tacos around here? Why don’t any other cheap and dirty foods find their way into our bellies via motor vehicle? The Leos and Rambos of our world sit comfortably on their high horses, assured of their seat at the top, so comfortable they barely keep an eye open for competition. It seems like, under these conditions, an enterprising entrepreneur-on-wheels could hatch a unique model that would siphon customers away from the monopoly of masa, no problem. But what would they serve?

Barbecue, apparently. In 2009, Eagle Rock has seen the introduction of two new members to their motorized fleet, neither of which are serving your mom’s asada burrito. Hollywood darling Kogi BBQ hasn’t strayed too far off the tortilla-pressed path, as they still serve burritos and tacos with only the fillings tweaked. And those fillings aren't all that impressive--I once had the famous short rib taco and had to actually look for the meat, because I sure couldn't taste it. Over on York Blvd., though, there is a truck making BBQ the likes of which I’ve never tasted in southern California, much less from an automobile.

Caribbean Dreams Texas BBQ has had a bold yellow sign draped across what looks like an apartment balcony for the better part of my time at Occidental. The building looks abandoned, as does the parking lot in front of it, except for one stationary truck. The sign has read “Coming soon!” rather emphatically for as long as I can remember, and I had pretty much given up my hopes of ever trying it upon leaving for Winter Break this year.

But wait. In January, things were shifting. Each drive by, something had moved—stacks of chairs and tables littered the lot, grills were set up on the concrete and one day I even saw smoke billowing out the top of the truck. Rumor had it they weren’t technically open, but a friend of mine had walked right up to sample the goods and they hadn’t turned him away. After weeks of hearing about this special treatment, I had to see for myself.

The friend insisted on coming with—“they know me,” he said, insisting I wouldn’t get the special treatment without him. We moseyed up to the abandoned-looking vehicle and he poked his head inside the passenger door. Out came a tattooed waitress who set up two chairs and a table for us in the parking lot and Fausto, 5-star chef extraordinaire and ex-cop, who kindly embraced us both before retreating into the belly of the beast to whip up something magnificent. I’d told him to give me a sampling of their best, and to throw an empanada in for good measure.

The story of the York lot goes like this—Fausto is Ecuadorian, and became a police chief there before transferring to the U.S. to work a similar job (he’ll flash you his FBI badge at the merest mention of this). He then quit to cook in several 5-star restaurants before deciding to open up a barbecue place with his business partner, who sadly wasn’t there the day I visited. The waitress had joined the team under the guidance of Fausto, a father, uncle and mentor figure who’d helped her get out trouble and was now teaching her to become a chef. She prepared our homemade horchata to-order and it was divine.

Despite the setting, we had clean glassware, sharp steak knives and silver cutlery—no plastic here. First up was the pumpkin empanada, a big doughy pocket filled with a cheesy pumpkin concoction that wasn’t cloyingly sweet or pie-like, just solid squash flavor. Then Fausto himself brought out the main event, a large plate stacked with rice, corn on the cob, salad and a heaping pile of sausage, ribs, chicken and tri-tip, all smothered in barbecue sauce. You can try eating with the fancy silverware if you want, but I gave up the ghost about halfway through the meal and used the sophisticated utensils god gave me, leaning heavily on the never-ending napkin supply.

I’ve struggled to find decent barbecue in this state, but it’s good to know there’s a 5-star chef who clearly knows what he’s doing a mere textbook toss away from campus. They technically open mid-morning and close around 8, but according to Fausto, he lives right behind the truck and will serve us whenever we knock on his door. They may develop real hours, though, when the grand opening takes place and a real menu surfaces. That’s tentatively scheduled for a month from now, and the team has big plans and decorations all lined up. But for now I’m just happy to show up with a ten dollar bill and get a veritable feast from the side of an automobile.

Caribbean Dreams Texas BBQ is located on the corner of Hazelwood and York Blvd.