Ode to a taco truck

I've always been slightly culinary-obsessed. Holly, I blame my mother for this too. Hence, I am always, always on the search for the perfect something- the perfect mac and cheese (hello Beecher's in the Market), the perfect latte (actually not in Seattle but Full City in Eugene- just 9 day until I get one. It's a good thing my parent's don't know this is the only reason I go visit. Oh wait, they read this blog.... I love you too?) and capping off the longest sentence in the world, the perfect taco.

And peps, I'm very serious about my tacos. I am in a perpetual state of searching for the best Mexican food in the city and I'm hardly ever satisfied (Carta de Oaxaca in Ballard comes close for the real deal). I am a Mexican food junkie, in fact one of the reasons I knew the hubby was the real deal was I found out he could eat Mexican as often as I can and loved it just as much, and I thought, okay I could spend my life with this guy.

But I digress from my point which is HOLY MOLE I just had an awesome taco. (Yeh, I feel the need to share. Again, culinary obsessed.) We have a taco truck down the street from work which in industrial SODO is my saving grace on crazy busy days and I trotted down this afternoon to get my normal veggie burrito. I ordered (perhaps another reason for my ode is that the nice gentleman charge me $1 less because I am one of the "regulars"), grabbed the bag and headed back to work. When I got back to my desk, I didn't have a burrito but 4 carnita tacos with onions and cilantro. Boy howdy, I thought I had died and gone to heaven after the first bite.

I probably have the worst breath ever from the onions and I feel like I ought to warn co-workers before they come by my desk so they don't faint from the stink, but man was that worth it. That was like pork-and-cilantro-induced-utopia, unbutton-your-now-too-tight-pants-afterwards good.

Taco truck, how I love thee.