Archives for posts with tag: taco wagon

You might think a nice hot chocolate or warm little muffin might be the best thing on the snowiest day, but you are wrong. Tacos, my friends, tacos. Stand around in the cold by a shady van in a funky falling-down town tacos. Really freaking amazing tacos. Tacos Cecy in Lewiston, of all places. I cannot resist a taco van, I really cannot. Three inches of snow or skin-melting sun, I will wait outside that window for a styrofoam plate of meat and tortillas. You know that show, “The Best Thing I Ever Ate” ? Anne’s answer: THIS. I am pretty serious. Those tacos were so good. One carnitas and one “walla walla.” The carnitas was somehow all the crispy good bits of the pulled purk. Chewy, bacony bits of meat topped with chopped cabbage, cilantro, and onions. The walla walla a nod to the nearby home of the famous sweet onion; spicy steak pieces with softy cooked onions and a smooth slice of avocado. A little line of hot sauce and a squeezed lime wedge on both, and sweet taco angels sang. 

Two tacos, three bucks.

Sweet bliss.


Cecy herself.

Found a new market, found a new taco wagon. Sarasota Swap Meet, every Saturday, behind the Ringling Ave Circle K. Lots of dreamcatchers, barnacled skeleton keys, old tools, and treasures. If I love you, you’re probably getting something from the magic market for Christmas, just a heads up. Young girl is the best sort of person to be at flea markets, where a reliable 90% of the sellers are ancient men. Makes for good bargaining power. I got some good stuff. And tacos. A little lower-end than Red Barn, at this particular taco wagon it’s a dollar a pop, pretty good deal. They’ve got a cool set-up: communal tables with big bins of cilantro and onion, fresh salsa with big hunks of serranos, and lime quarters and bottles of varying hot sauces and for the very brave, bowls of whole chilies. You order your smattering of tacos and wait for your numero, then you just get the tortillas and meat. Plop down at an open spot at one of the packed picnic tables and you doctor ’em up as you like. I got barbacoa and lengua, as per usual, and covered them with a ton of cilantro, a little salsa, a smidge of the not-so-hot (but still hot) hot sauce, and a lotta lime. Then messily ate in the shade and talked in embarrassing (hopefully endearingly so) Spanish to my neighbors. And took pictures. I love markets and I love tacos and I love talking to people and I love taking pictures. Having a big camera has made me more friends than any amount of charm in my whole life. The rest of the day was spent studying in residual bliss. (Also, they had financiers at my regular coffee shop for me to dip into my tea. More bliss.)

Everyone loves tacos.

(P.S. New photos under the foto tab.)