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#flattop the brick truck
gaytrainboi · 1 year
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Flat Top The Brick Truck Rolls Into The Yard!
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hardkookiecookie · 1 year
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SHOUT OUT TO THIS AMATEUR PRODUCTION (?) OF STEX THAT HAD FLATTOP THERE DURING PUMPING IRON
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jekyll-doodles · 2 years
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Fragrance Folly (GreenGhostlyJekyll on DeviantArt) Do not remove source/edit/ trace/repost!
a joke from a group chat a while back, in which poor Rusty turns out to be allergic to Pearl's perfume
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Sometimes a babygirl can be a personified brick truck on roller skates, and I think that’s beautiful.
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ruhrgoldie · 7 months
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Flat doodle
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charliestrainyard · 11 months
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♫♪.ılılıll|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|llılılı.♫♪
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goblinlovesmusicals · 2 years
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Okay gimme some FlatTop headcanons- 🧍‍♂️
He's Dustin's bro. Dustin is older. They're both adopted.
So massively in love w Killerwatt
If not Killerwatt then Pearl, or maybe Purse
Best friends w Dinah, no I don't take criticism
He's bitter cuz he's the only brick truck in the yard and has to do sm work
Back issues from Bricks yay
Very scrawny for a freight truck, but deffo has the secret muscle
Trans boiiii
He yells a lot-
Gets married to Kills eventually. They have three kids and you'll have to send an ask if you wanna hear abt them 😉
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....Flat-Top please?
Your wish is my command! Here is Flat-Top
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Jake sat on his hands and knees digging in the sandbox at recess. He had trouble playing with the other kids. They were nice to him and all, just boring. He'd rather be at home playing with his train set. They were always better company. Sighing a bit and grabbing a bucket to dig with, Jake imagined being at home and playing his favorite game in the world.
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"This is CONTROL! This is CONTROL! Freight train report for duty! Freight train report for duty!" His voice boomed over the loud speaker. From his high up office Control watched as Rusty the shunter pulled up the freight trucks one by one. First came the four Rockies, then the CB- Hold on! Where was Dustin?! "Come on big hopper! Front and center!" He called again. Poor Dustin was in the corner of the yard, trembling and shaking. He was Control's most sensitive truck. If anything, he needed a friend to keep him company. The Rockies were a big tough for him and CB almost too helpful. Control mused about asking the CEOs for a transfer-
'
Clunk
Jake shook his head free from the fantasy. He glanced around in the sand wondering what he had hit with his bucket. Something glinted up at him through and grains. He dug his hands down into the sand and pulled up a long forgotten toy. Jake shook it vigorously to clear the sand then looked it over. "Oh boy! A flat car! No wait- a brick truck!" He grinned to himself. This was exactly what he needed back home! He quickly checked the flat car over to see if it had any initials. Like he'd hoped, it didn't. It was beat up looking but nothing he couldn't fix up. The ink stains on it just gave it character. "Flat-Top..." Jake decided on a name. He took the bottom of his shirt and spat in it to use as a shiner. He carefully scrubbed dirt off the wheels of his new found toy before the class bell rang.
Jake got up quickly and cradled the brick truck to his chest. "Don't worry. Once we get home you can meet your new friend Dustin! You'll get along swell," he whispered before running back to the classroom.
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jockedguy · 4 years
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It’s All Good, Bro
So I get road rage every once in awhile.  It’s not like it’s something I can help — it just boils out of me.  Maybe it has something to do with the fact that my mother was a bus driver, and she spent most of my teenage years fuming at idiots on the road who didn’t obey the rules.
And I’ll tell you, there was something about these bros, whooping and hollering as they swerved to cut me off, like they were having fun doing it.  
Assholes.
So I slammed on my brakes, narrowly avoiding clipping their back bumper, feeling my road rage grow and grow as the two in the backseat flicked me off nonchalantly, not even bothering to look at me as they did it.
Now, most people don’t fuck with me.  I drive a truck — it’s not a big one, but I raised it myself, and I do most of the repairs myself, unless it’s got something to do with the electronics.  I’ve got a few stickers on the back of it that is usually enough to convince anyone dumbass enough to fuck with me otherwise: my NRA sticker, my Punisher sticker, and of course, my Browning logo sticker.  
It’s not that I’m a redneck, but … well, yeah, I’m kind of a redneck.  Like a beach redneck.  The beach has always been my happy place, I guess, unless I’m out in the woods with my gun.  Anywhere in nature.  I try to imagine the pound of the surf, or the sound of the wind in the trees, if I feel myself getting angry.  You know, the old meditation techniques: close your eyes, breathe in, breathe out, imagine your happy place, and soon all the stress just sort of evaporates, turning into little mist particles.
I slammed the car door and got out of the truck, staring daggers across the asphalt at the sandy-haired bro getting out of the Jeep.  “What the fuck!”  I bellowed, mustering my whole six-foot frame to shout.  “You cut me off back there, you asshole!”  
The dude looked up at me, and I caught a flash of something in his eyes.  He was built like a brick shithouse, but oddly enough seemed to be the least muscular of the bros crammed into the Jeep — at least, from what I could see.  
And then the bro with the flattop haircut stuck his body out the back window and hollered at me.  “Sucks to suck, bro!”
I had to close my eyes for a moment, imagining the pound and crash of the surf on the beach.  The sand under my toes.  The heat of the sun on my skin.  I opened my eyes and stepped forward, away from my truck.  “I don’t think you really want to fuck with me, man.  Just saying.”
The flattop-bro had already wriggled his way back inside the Jeep, and was busying high-fiving the other guys.  The driver was ignoring me, which wasn’t doing much to extinguish my blooming rage.  He casually flipped and unhooked the nozzle, inserting it into his gas tank without so much as another glance in my direction.
“Hey,” I said, moving a little closer.  “I’m fucking talking to you, asshole.”
“Bro, chill the fuck out, bro,” he said, without looking up.  “You’re way too wound up, bro.”  The gas guzzled, clunking and sloshing as it went.  I could hear the whir of the numbers ticking up on the pump, counting up the money this probably rich douchebag was going to spend filling his tank.
My fists clenched at my sides.  I felt my nostrils flaring, and I took an unconscious step forward.  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the Jeep’s sideview mirror.  We were a pretty evenly matched pair, if I had to guess, as long as the bros in the Jeep didn’t try to join in and make it an unfair fight.
Read the rest here:
https://www.gayspiralstories.com/newStory/show/1518635
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toddlazarski · 5 years
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A Definitive Taco Truck Tour
Shepherd Express
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Before 2010, when The Fast Foodie trademarked the name “Globaco” in some kind of full shark-jumping signifier of the epochal food truck wars, and long before today’s scene of the Zocalo food truck park, complete with the backing of real estate developers and an “incubator” program; before food truck festivals, Food Truck Friday, Food Truck Thursday, Takeout Tuesday, changing locations necessitating hungers be equipped with GPS-capabilities, before $12 crepes, $5 mushroom tacos, takeovers, residencies, Food Network validation, before the food truck was a hip wedding menu option—almost all somehow worth it, all ridiculous but inevitable, overdone but delicious—there was the taco truck.  
Really since, probably, 1974. That is when Raul Martinez converted an ice cream truck into King Taco and parked it outside of an L.A. bar. Lines formed, a legend was born, offshoots ensued, and it was a first step toward fixed, consistent locations. A metaphorical flag seemed planted. The dawn of an era, certainly, but really it was but the next step in a lineage that flows organically, pragmatically, from roaming street tamale vendors that date to as early as the late 1800’s. Also, more simply, from lunch carts at construction sites. Any time humans move, mass, and build, portable kitchens will surely follow. Today, in an era of mobile offerings listing the likes of Mochaccino cupcakes, how much said kitchens choose to raise their fists in culinary challenge to brick-and-mortars really just seems a matter of ambition and philosophy.  
But a quest for such bygone spots is not just an act of nostalgia. It’s far from slumming or the loaded, problematic idea of authenticity. It’s a harkening of a simpler time, before we gussied menus and overshadowed the farmers at farmers markets with lines for $8 waffles, before mobile grilled cheeses required “Cedar Valley 2 Year Aged Cheddar,” before what Ta-Nehisi Coates, in a skeptical essay penned in the Atlantic in 2010, termed with some derision, “nuevo-food trucks.” 
If you know where to look, when to stop, how to navigate crinkly handwritten placards of exotic sounding mouth meats and such, can make yourself heard over grumbling generators attached to rickety Freightliners, glimpses of this old world still abound. Quick, cheap, consistent, doused in multiple salsas, chased with frigid Jarritos, this is a pursuit of no-frills, flavorful, long-stewed quick meal. You don’t have to live every moment like it’s a beer commercial afterall, with an Instagrammable converted camper, with clever alliteration names, hyper-specification, like it was Austin, like it was Portland, pesky cities of smug overachieving and some oblique pursuit of “weirdness.” Sometimes you just want a taco. Through a hungry and thorough survey of Milwaukee summer streets, these are your best bets for such movable feasts. 
12. El Charrito
Some slithery cooked onions and half of a huge charred jalapeño side a taco plate—the only real indicator this is anything but standard, cheap workaday Mexican fare. But that might very well be what you’re after, especially after shopping at the never-ending Restaurant Depot, or cranking on the sprawling hard hat site that is the new Michels Corp development that one of the four El Charrito’s sits beside. If so the pastor is a satisfyingly seasoned pork filling, tender and mostly drowning in blood red adobo-rich sauce. The asada might land on the dry side, but that actually makes it rightly fit for salsa water-falling. A chorizo torta, with not quite crisped but not too greasy meat, is a big-hearted lunchtime bomb of a sandwich just this side of nap-inducing, held together precariously by a griddled bolillo roll, souled up with the usual filler of cream, lettuce, tomato. Side anything with the special stewy charro beans—pintos in a smoky, soupy broth—to fill out a full appetite. Otherwise it is limited-menu, no-frills starter platter fare starring prominently two-buck, double corn tortilla tacos, packed with the salty meatstuff of your preference, peaked with heaps of onion and cilantro, sided by exactly the well-executed baseline taco truck spirit that flattops-on-wheels should always embody. 
11. Tacos El Amigo
Perhaps as a nod to the neighborhood’s encroaching condo sprawl the menu here sports the likes of nachos, wings, pulled pork, other Philly sandwich type stuffs. Also, perhaps in protest, the dark truck appears in raggedy, noisy form, the service comes sans smile, and the vibe is that of the Black Hat character on the 1st and National scene.     
Skip the drunk college kid fare, also the singular allure of what proves to be a docile shrimp taco. Rather the milanesa torta hits all pleasure points for a quick lunch or a hunger-necessitating buzz from too many nearby craft cocktails. Inside the pale, soft bolillo roll, breaded, lightly fried chicken cutlet hunks form a well-rounded flavor squad with pinto beans, avocado, mayo, and melty queso. Or try the pastor, which is tender and scooped in smoky hunks that are a bit sweet, minimally saucy. There is also the always helpful campechano - a taco filling combo of the eater’s own calculus, for those who can’t decide. Chorizo and asada is a personal favorite. But they even have hot dog on the meat list here, so a choose-your-own adventure might be endless.  
10. Taqueria Buenavista 
Despite consistency woes, and worse, a reliance on lettuce-and-tomato taco topping sacrilege, this rolling outpost of the ‘Stallis taqueria deserves much matchmaker credit for my introduction to this verde salsa, a comforting friend now oft-found about the southside taqueria scene. The emulsified sauce is a spicy viscous goo: part oil, part cream, plenty of green pepper capsaicin zing, and a whole lot of soul. It can perform the soft miracle of making dry pollo good, or further enhance a stew-y birria that is by itself a saucy hangover comfort blanket. Really anything at the spot—regularly stopped suggestively outside of the Piggly Wiggly, seemingly nudging, prodding, asking: “why cook yourself?”—is mostly canvas for the bite-back salsa.  
9. Las 7 Estrellas
Even an unabiding love for the singular offering of albondigas couldn’t sell me on any exceptionalism at the brick-and-mortar branch of this new-ish Bay View spot. Then the truck popped up nearby, and seemed aggressively approximate to Buenavista—a decidedly unchill encroachment of competition. Nonetheless, there is our local Home Depot, and there are Saturday to-do lists, and there is a unique “order ready” system that finds a siren wailing once your number is up. Ringing like Pavlov’s perro, it is an indicator that it’s time to get your fingers greasy, the cuticles a bit burnt, especially by way of pambazo. This is a soft-bunned bruiser of a sandwich, the bread of which is dunked in fire-y hot sauce, griddled, and then lined reasonably with meat, lettuce, crema. The salty chorizo, or a saucy, pineapple-flecked pastor are ideal.    
Or there is tripa, cabeza, lengua—more proletariat cuts for less Americanized palates. No matter the filling, the bun will bleed delicious salsa onto your fingers, staining skin, implicating eaters, making it obvious you did more than make a productive run for yard work supplies.
8. Taqueria El Paso
The good guy in the white vs. black hat rivalry in the 1st and National zone of moving taco trucks, El Paso belies it’s mildly racist caricature—brown skinned man in a sombrero and pancho, holding a burrito, grinning under a mustache amongst desert and cactuses—with smiles, a welcome picnic table, and even friendlier meat cuts. Look no further than the alambre. It’s a gargantuan two-meal styrofoam plate of melty queso, variably crisped asada bits, salty, suggestive bacon hunks, onions and peppers, and beefy, grounded flavor scoops for personal taco crafting. Spike it with the spark plug orange-red salsa, which also works well with a dry, salty, scrappy take on pastor. 
Bold, or, possibly too-drunk Walker’s Point feasters might combine these two and venture a stomach for the El Paso Special: steak, pork, bacon, onions, peppers, mushrooms, cheese, pineapple. It is basically like an alambre on steroids, which is a dish that is already itself like a Mexican skillet on HGH. Maybe American obesity is a bit inspired afterall.  
7. El Tapatio
Speaking of American appetites, a white person order, the Taco Bell-ification of our view of Mexican cuisine, the oft-called “gringa” is a popular truck option mistakenly easy to sleep on. It’s basically a quesadilla—a large, griddled flour tortilla, lined with gooing cheese and whichever meatstuff. Simple, basic, here it is the everything you want in one bite, especially with the asada. Deep, greasy, fatty grilled steak flavor, aggressively chopped, almost pulled, sticks and makes close friends with half-soft queso. Smoky rojo elevates it well beyond the realm of packaged ‘Fire’ sauce and into something that reeks of an old country. The same can be said about the pastor, another in the line of adobo-seasoned pork offerings, one with murmurs and rumors of pineapple, something sweet, something smoky, chopped and sauced to the point of making salsa optional, the taco package happily sassy as is. It’s maybe the best such version around, and is offered generously, heaping. 
It’s a truck along the lines of Charrito—in fact they also have 4 roaming kitchens about town, and a minimal menu. But you can tell by the milling eaters huddled across the street from Koz’s: these are the basics cooked slowly, carefully, everything seemingly done, welcomely, much better than it has to be. 
6. La Mazorca 
Sometime early next summer, when the troves of “Actually, Milwaukee’s Not So Bad” headlines make their way through the national press to preview how to spend time here during the DNC, there will certainly be an article fronted by a picture of Mazorca, the entirety of the new Zocalo food truck park. Perched against not-quite gentrification—the shell of Camacho’s bar and a discarded sidewalk syringe loomed over a recent Sunday afternoon visit—it is still adorably cutesy, the taco truck made for Instagram. It’s almost worth an eye-roll. As a tree grows in Brooklyn, so a food truck grows in a gentrifying warehouse district. The tacos themselves also come overly-crafted, like a contoured Mexican experience: the pastor is pre-topped with avocado cilantro salsa, the birria with pickled red onions, the bistec is marinated in “Wisconsin beer” and topped with pintos and tomatillo salsa. It’s a tad unfortunate, a bit prefab-feeling. Especially as the two fire-colored squirt bottles of salsa and endless to-go containers pack so much arbol sizzle, creamy piquant buzz.
It’s also not that unfortunate, because said tacos are indeed bursting with vitality, high-end flavor. The pastor especially oozes with adobo essence and juicy grilled-ness, the birria is a perfect texture template for an overly avuncular orange salsa pour, the steak strips are smartly seasoned and thin and unimpeachably beefy. 
On a true crawl of southside streets, amidst grime and espanol-only ordering, a trek here can seem like selling out, like going Pirates of the Caribbean. But then you walk out, past the patio lights and bumping “Wonderwall,” and realize you’re sucking air, craving water, and wondering why your mouth is still on fire. Serious tacos come in many backdrops. 
5. El Comedor
The on-paper listing of the aptly named Torta Suprema here is absurdly gluttonous, borderline-stunt-ish: ham, mozzarella, chorizo, milanesa. That’s not a choice of meat types, it is the lineup. Additionally, unannounced, coming off the bench, there are refried beans. Then you see it, scoop it, can’t stop. And you realize it’s actually an exercise in restraint, with thin, minimal layers of each ingredient laid carefully atop one another, all beautifully constructed for integrity, neatness, consistency, the whole beast cut in half for easy, no-fallout management. Of course it is still absurdly gluttonous. It is two kinds of pig—crumbly, greasy chorizo and fatty golden ham slices, with chicken—golden-fried strips of barely-breaded breast, all tied together with stretchy, melty virgin-white mozzarella gliding throughout, every bite contrasting soft and crisp, as the fluffy bolillo has been gently charred both inside and out, and lined with mayo, lettuce, tomato.  
There’s, also, somehow, a Cubano, the same sandwich with American cheese and turkey added to the fertile fray. And, according to handwritten cardboard signs, there are occasional special mole offerings. But Comedor is definitely, foremost, the rolling torta king, the truck on 13th and Hayes good enough to make it forgettable that their brick-and-mortar big brother is mostly known for its pastor. Which, when you try it here, is a succulent, juice-running, half-crispy shimmering pork take, delicious and welcoming of fiery red or fresh green salsa. No matter though, the most important impression you’re taking away is really that other half of torta, for the fridge, and then for a brilliant late-night snack. 
4. La Flamita
 Flamita might serve the greasiest chorizo around, the finest, tiniest dice of any meat on any menu, and the most over-stuffed of all taco truck tacos. There’s also a big, bad alambre— an asada, bacon, cheese, pepper, onion melange of heft and farmland machismo.   
But, on Sundays, between 3pm and midnight, when pastor tacos are $1, when the crowds gather, when the knives are being sharpened by big laughing men glimpsed through the little window, it’s trompo time on 20th and National. It’s the only time of the week they use the vertical spit of Lebanese, Greek, Turkish descent. As if coming to life for everyone else’s day of rest, it wields slithery wedges of reddish-brown and amber, the half-charred pig flavor dribbling juice, the tacos decked with huge wedges of pineapple, splashed liberally with onion and cilantro. 
Some bites come on like bacon, some like semi-fatty shoulder, taste profiles bounce between rich, fruity, bracing, and, if you’re doing it right with the orange sauce, tingly and blood-flowing. They are little six-bite nuggets of life affirmation, pillowed by double corn layers, gleaned for less than it costs to park downtown for an hour-and-a-half. 
3. Marta’s Tamales
There is no way to half-ass tamales. A labor-intensive dish of corn husks, steam, and up-at-dawn love, it would be like your doctor just sort-of practicing medicine. That’s why if it’s in the name, if it is in the taco-slinging game, there’s certainly legit pedigree. So it is with the Christmas-lighted truck on Cesar Chavez, amidst the cacophonous intersection by El Rey. You can tell the seriousness from the crumbly, heavily seasoned, ground-beefy asada, from an inspired, neatly shredded, soupy barbacoa, rich with faraway spices and earthy, funky sweet-savory balance. Big appetites and food pic takers will be drawn to the pambazo. The chorizo and potato mix is especially hearty, filling, crisped with lettuce wedges, the entire drowned-roll concoction crowned with a sea of crema and a little mountain of crumbly cotija. It’s a sandwich basking in photo op. Then there are elotes—the favorite Mexican street dish of corn smeared in mayo, cream, cheese and spicy pepper seasoning—served either on the cob, or, for those dainty or with a too-nice-an-interior to spill queso, in a dish.   
And what of those tamales? Bulbous and piping hot, try the puerco, which is tender pale chunks chock with a potent red-hot chile pepper mash. It is 2-buck brilliance. And somehow almost an afterthought.
2. La Guelaguetza
Rick Bayless once famously opined that the best taquerias are those attached to grocery stores. So it would follow that Guelaguetza, it’s extra long frame situated outside El Rey at 13th and Burnham, is a natural extension, a vomitorium, if you will, of the always-bustling, teeming, slightly-stressful emporium of meats, seasonings, breads, and everything that you could possibly imagine inside. Pig’s feet? Yes. Jewelry? It’s by the checkout counter. Take, for example, the fact that a recent trek found radishes and fresh cucumber offered along the counter salsa bar. Like they belong to a CSA and aren’t sure what to do with all their extra stuff. Sometimes though, there is a downright ferocious onion-habenero pickled mix. In a world of menu repetition, it’s such small touches that add up, that get you a top-2 ranking. It helps that they have a trompo, one of the very few in town. This spit yields pale, red-hued chopped pork scraps, a touch fatty but beautiful, with whiffs of adobo-seasoning, maybe cinnamon, something bright and sweet and indefinable in each balanced bite. There is also a deep-stewed, earthy barbocoa, with intense, unrelenting beefiness. There are, maybe, if you know how to ask, homemade tortillas. And, of course, there is an alambre. It is best as a piping, queso-gooey gumbo of steak, chorizo, crumbly bacon bits, peppers, onions, and the subsequent happiest grease slither of DIY-taco mix possible. Or try try one of their specials that might team ham with pastor. Either way it’s sided by a baked potato, seemingly as that something extra, to give the feel of going to grandma’s house, her wanting to show that she loves you very much, wants you to eat, and to get fat.  
1. Taqueria La Costena
There is a filter on Instagram—Nashville, Ludwig, whatever—that brightens, lightens, accentuates, makes pop all the colors and vividness of the happy summer days of life. The tlayuda here, once you pour some thick smoky rojo salsa atop, seems to exist in this doctored state of beauty all on its own: dazzling green avocado, pristine and pure crema, milky queso, sheeny tomato and lettuce flecks, the whole thing framed by they earthy tones of a griddled tortilla and pinto beans. Red, white, green, it looks like the Mexican flag, waving loudly, begging to be scooped, one triangle wedge at a time, folded like a NY-style slice, and devoured. Top it with perfect crumbly chorizo—like a little but ambitious cousin of piquant pepperoni—to complete the Mexican-pizza experience. It’s a destination-worthy dish. But really the fake-wood paneled, slant-roofed mini house is more, much more than just an adorable tlayuda outpost between St. Luke’s and the Domes. 
They also have a specific take on pastor: drier, but still liberally seasoned, small-diced, with half-blackened bits, the result yielding moist, just-grilled flavor that allows the meat itself to shine. The same can be said about the smoky, beefy barbocoa. Or even the asada—-so often rote, so often a shoulder-shrug of a meat offering, here is tender, juicy, and seems to fully reveal a careful hand at the flattop. It’s indicative of a subtle touch, a deft hand, offered with friendly delivery. Everything here is more than enough reason to stop the car while cruising 27th Street. It’s actually inspiration to get in the car, to get a car-meal, in the first place. 
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jekyll-doodles · 2 years
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12 and 13 for StEx (fandom music asks)
12. A song you associate with your favorite character.
Dinah - The King is Dead but the Queen is Alive by Pink
13. A song you associate with your least favorite character.
Flattop - Hullabaloo by Rare Americans
EDIT: ANOTHER ONE FOR FLATTOP CAUSE I FORGOT ABOUT IT - Delicate, Petite & Other Things I'll Never Be by Against Me!
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instantdeerlover · 4 years
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The Best Breakfast Tacos In Austin (1) added to Google Docs
The Best Breakfast Tacos In Austin (1)
America might run on Dunkin, but Austin sure as sh*t runs on breakfast tacos. They’re what sustains us. They’re this city’s lifeblood. Nothing would ever get done in Austin without them. Portable, convenient, and filling, breakfast tacos are in many ways the perfect food. And Austin does them better than anyone.
When you’re desperately hungry (or hungover), the best breakfast tacos are the ones closest to your house. But we set out to find the actual best breakfast tacos in the city - the ones worth driving across town to eat. The project involved elaborate spreadsheets, many gallons of gas, serious debates about the merits of red versus green salsa, and some very close encounters with hungry grackles. And now, after eating hundreds of tacos, we can confidently tell you about 15 spots in a class all their own. These are the best breakfast tacos in Austin.
Also, see our guide to the best breakfast tacos you can get delivered.
the breakfast taco spots 1  Kirsten Kaiser Valentina's Tex Mex BBQ $ $ $ $ Tacos ,  Mexican ,  Tex-Mex ,  BBQ  in  Manchaca $$$$ 11500 Menchaca Rd
Valentina’s Tex Mex BBQ is a fusion of Austin’s greatest cuisines: Tex-Mex and barbecue. There’s nothing else quite like this food - especially their breakfast tacos. The foundation is the phenomenal flour tortillas that you’ll beg and plead and offer to trade in your car for a stack to take home (until you learn you can buy them by the dozen). Those get topped with exceptional barbecue (brisket or pulled pork), scrambled or fried eggs, and tomato serrano salsa, to make some of the greatest breakfast tacos in the entire known universe. Just know you have to get your order in by 11am - and there’s usually a line.
What to get: Potato, egg, and cheese (add pulled pork); Real Deal Holyfield (with brisket)
2  Mica McCook Dai Due Taqueria $ $ $ $ Tacos ,  Mexican ,  Tex-Mex  in  Downtown Austin $$$$ 111 Congress Ave
Dai Due Taqueria – an offshoot of the East Austin butcher shop/restaurant Dai Due located in the downtown food hall Fareground – might be best known for its wood-fired trompo and al pastor, but it’s the tremendous breakfast tacos that you should be coming here to eat. The first time we tried them, we sat there for a while, stunned, admiring them like the glowing briefcase in Pulp Fiction. The flour tortillas are made with lard, which definitely has something to do with it - and even the basic bacon, egg, potato, and cheese is anything but basic when the bacon’s from Dai Due. These tacos are only available on weekends from 9am to 3pm (which makes them special and rare, sort of like a meteor or a McRib).
What to get: Migas; Wild boar chorizo and egg
3  Kirsten Kaiser Veracruz All Natural $ $ $ $ Tacos ,  Mexican  in  East Austin $$$$ 2505 Webberville Rd
The migas taco at Veracruz All-Natural sets the bar for all other migas tacos. Like Super Mario Bros. 3 or the brisket at Franklin Barbecue, they’re best-in-class - a legend. What makes these migas tacos so much better than all the other ones out there? The ingredients (they make their own tortilla chips), the execution, and the attention to detail (they take their time cooking things). Veracruz has three trucks and two brick-and-mortar locations, and you’re probably going to have to wait in line no matter which one you go to. But just know these tacos are always worth it.
What to get: Migas Originales (add the molcajete salsa); Migas Poblanas
4  Kirsten Kaiser Franklin Barbecue’s Tacos & Coffee $ $ $ $ Tacos ,  Tex-Mex ,  BBQ  in  East Austin $$$$ 900 E 11th St
The barbecue at Franklin Barbecue is the best in Austin, the best in Texas, the best in America, and the best in the universe. So when the meat whisperers opened a breakfast taco trailer in their parking lot, our expectations were high. Are these the very best breakfast tacos in Austin? No - but they’re close. Especially the ones made with the legendary Franklin brisket, where it gets crisped up and caramelized on a griddle and paired with fluffy eggs and guacamole, all on a warmed flour tortilla. And unlike Franklin Barbecue, there’s often no line at all. (Bonus: they serve good espresso.)
What to get: Brisket, egg, and guacamole taco
5  Mica McCook Joe's Bakery & Coffee Shop $ $ $ $ Tacos ,  Mexican ,  Cafe/Bakery ,  Tex-Mex  in  East Austin $$$$ 2305 E 7th St
Joe’s Bakery & Coffee Shop is an East Side staple that’s been around since 1962. Is there always a wait? Yes. But that’s because of the exceptional Tex-Mex/Mexican diner food (and the pan dulce, too), especially the breakfast tacos made with fluffy house-made flour tortillas. Get the miga taco con todo, with still-crispy tortilla chips, as well as the super-crispy bacon that defies the laws of pork belly physics. Either order a side of it or add it to your breakfast taco, where it’ll hang out of the sides like the tortilla is a hammock that’s too small.
What to get: Miga taco con todo; Bacon, egg, and cheese taco; Carne guisada taco
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Sometimes you just know. The first time we went to Tacos Guerrero, we opened the foil and had one of those holy sh*t moments. The breakfast tacos coming out of this tiny, orange, one-woman trailer on the East Side are spectacular - like the migas, with still-crispy tortilla strips, that by default come with refried beans (which is not typical at all). There’s a standard red and green salsa, but make sure to get the molcajete salsa made from roasted tomatoes and chiles.
What to get: Migas; Chorizo and egg
7  Kirsten Kaiser Tamale House East $ $ $ $ Tacos ,  Mexican ,  Tex-Mex  in  East Austin $$$$ 1707 E 6th St
Tamale House is an Austin institution that’s existed in various forms and locations since 1958. The soul of this place is the breakfast menu, filled with dishes like chilaquiles, huevos rancheros, and breakfast tacos made with outstanding homemade flour tortillas. The real standout is the phenomenal chipotle migas taco, with scrambled eggs and crispy corn tortilla chips that get tossed in queso with a smoky chipotle salsa. It’s a rare chilaquiles-adjacent evolution of migas, and something that should belong in the Museum of Breakfast Tacos.
What to get: Chipotle migas and queso; Potato, egg, black bean, and avocado
8  Mica McCook Pueblo Viejo $ $ $ $ Tacos ,  Mexican ,  Tex-Mex  in  South Congress $$$$ 121 Pickle Rd
At Pueblo Viejo, you have options. You can order a simple, excellent breakfast taco like a bacon, egg, and cheese - or if you’re paralyzed by choice, there’s a set menu of more elaborate options. And while most breakfast taco places have two salsas (red and green), Pueblo Viejo has five: pico, tomatillo, creamy jalapeno, roasted habanero, and habanero and ghost chili. So when you’re ordering, just stay calm, follow your heart, and know you really can’t go wrong. There are a few locations of Pueblo Viejo around town, but our favorite is the trailer down south at Cosmic Coffee + Beer Garden (where you can get coffee, beer, and cocktails).
What to get: Migas taco; Taco Viejo
9  Mackenzie Smith Kelly Vaquero Taquero $ $ $ $ Tacos  in  Campus $$$$ 104 E 31st St.
The UT students who have clearly just rolled out of bed and stumbled over to Vaquero Taquero’s brick-and mortar have no idea how good they have it. The al pastor tacos on handmade corn tortillas and the quesadillas are what put this place on the map. But it’s the insanely good breakfast tacos - especially the bacon, egg, and cheese (with the cheese crisped up on the griddle first) - that make us consider going back to school. We’d study for a PhD just to get that machacado.
What to get: Machacado and egg; Bacon, egg, and cheese.
10  Mica McCook Rosita's Al Pastor $ $ $ $ Tacos ,  Mexican  in  East Riverside ,  Oltorf $$$$ 1911 E Riverside Dr
Rosita’s specializes in al pastor - but the breakfast tacos are where this place really shines. What makes them stand out is the incredible, pillowy house-made flour tortillas, the perfect foundation for the tremendous breakfast tacos, filled with eggs briskly scrambled on a flattop. Order a chorizo, egg, and cheese, and it all turns a fiery bright red.
What to get: Bacon, egg, and potato; Chorizo and egg
11  Mica McCook El Primo Taco Truck $ $ $ $ Tacos ,  Mexican ,  Tex-Mex  in  Travis Heights $$$$ 2101 S 1st St
Waiting in lines for food is basically a sport in Austin. There’s often a very good reason for the line - and at El Primo’s it’s the fantastic breakfast tacos. Like moths to a light, people are powerless to the migas tacos (the default version is made with deli ham, which is pretty unique to this place) and the homemade chorizo and egg. You’ll see crowds waiting patiently for their orders while traffic whizzes by on South First.
What to get: Migas (with ham); Chorizo and egg
12  Mica McCook Taco-Mex $ $ $ $ Tacos ,  Mexican ,  Tex-Mex  in  East Austin $$$$ 2613 Manor Rd
Taco-Mex hits that sweet spot in the breakfast taco Venn diagram of cheap, fast, and good. It’s commonly known as “Taco Window,” because that’s what Taco-Mex is: A window in a strip mall where you ring a bell and order tacos. There is no door, no interior, no picnic table outside - just a bench out front. But from the literal hole in the wall emerge excellent breakfast tacos. From what we can tell, the price for a breakfast taco here ($1.75) has not gone up in at least a decade. The minimum credit card order is “2 tacos” - but really what are you doing only ordering a single taco?
What to get: Migas and egg; Bacon, egg, and cheese
13  Mica McCook Taqueria Mi Trailita $ $ $ $ Tacos ,  Mexican ,  Tex-Mex  in  Windsor Park $$$$ 5301 Manor Rd
In a gas station’s parking lot over in Windsor Park, the trailer Taqueria Mi Trailita makes consistently outstanding breakfast tacos, filled with things like their herby breakfast sausage, all with a generous shower of cheese. While Taqueria Mi Trailita’s very good corn tortillas are handmade in the trailer, the flour tortillas are store-bought - but they spend the right amount of time on the griddle. During peak hours there can be a wait, so it’s best to call ahead or you might end up sitting at the covered picnic tables a bit.
What to get: Sausage, egg, and cheese; Migas and cheese
14  Mica McCook Marcelino's $ $ $ $ Tacos ,  Mexican ,  Tex-Mex  in  East Austin $$$$ 901 Tillery St
At Marcelino’s on the East Side, the tacos are scoop-and-serve - made assembly-line right in front of you. But Marcelino’s is so consistently busy that they’re hustling and preparing food non-stop. You can get a basic bacon, egg, and cheese breakfast taco, and it’ll be far superior to most you can get around town - but Marcellino’s system allows them to have many more options that you don’t see often, like repollo asado (grilled cabbage), calabacitas (squash), rajas (poblanos in cream), smoked Elgin sausage, and the incredible papa ranchera (French fries tossed in salsas). We think about the papa ranchera a lot. Also, at Marcelino’s, the cheese isn’t grated - they peel a slice off of a huge stack and slap it onto a warmed tortilla, where it immediately melts.
What to get: Papa ranchera and egg; Rajas and egg
15  Raphael Brion Bouldin Creek Café $ $ $ $ American ,  Vegetarian ,  Vegan  in  Bouldin $$$$ 1900 S 1st St
Bouldin Creek Cafe serves glorious breakfast tacos so enormous that you’ll need to use a fork before even trying to pick one up. The vegetable chorizo is homemade and delicious, and you can get it with free-range eggs and cheese, or go vegan with the chorizo-tofu scramble that’s tender and spicy, almost like a mapo tofu. You can’t say you’ve really experienced this city’s breadth of talents in the world of Breakfast Tacos until you’ve tried these at Bouldin.
What to get: Egg, veggie chorizo, and cheese; Tofu veggie chorizo
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