If you know me and are familiar with my track record as a food writer then you are well aware of my near obsession with food trucks.
So when a taco truck opened up just a few blocks from us a couple of years ago I was both stoked and curious. Mind you, most of the tacos from said trucks that I have had the pleasure of getting acquainted with in my time here in Tucson have been either on the scale of “Yeah, this is good” to “Oh my god, this is fxxking amazing!”
That doesn’t mean that I’ve had a few dogs of tacos. Not going to mention names but there have been the unfortunate few where I just stare at the taco and wonder “How the heck could they screw this up so bad?” Thankfully that notion is a rarity.
Calling themselves Los Compas, this lil pink and white rig set up around the corner of Ft. Lowell and Mountain to little or no fanfare. Literally a shout and holler away from our bungalow. Driving by it once or twice it was around the third turn where I knew it was my time to sample the goods.
If memory serves correct I got a selection of items in the vein of ‘if they mess this up then we got a problem’. Like one or two tacos, a burrito and probably something else. Then I brought it back home for us to try.
What memory does do me honest is that I immediately fell in love with the food. It was all so good. The chicken and carne asada was cooked and seasoned perfectly, the beans and rice were the same, fresh cabbage and tomatoes, juicy limes, tasty salsas, fantastic pickled red onions – all of it.
Thank you taco truck gods for sending Los Compas to our fair neighborhood! But screw you too because its not like I’m chubby enough. Jeeze.
One Sunday coming back from the farmers market I decided to get a bowl of their menudo, which they only serve on the weekends. A lot of people that I know are not fans of menudo, most of the white folks that is, but I have been a defender of the tripe and hominy filled brothy stew since my early days of living in San Francisco. It was there that my screaming hangovers were remedied by the magic that lives in that spicy brew accompanied by thick tortillas and, yes, a beer.
Los Compas’ menudo did not disappoint. It brought me back to those heady days in the bay area only this time I was not suffering from the alco-fuel regrets of open bars, backstage coolers and general youth filled debauchery. It was just a chilly winter Sunday and that stuff really warmed me up.
Owners Karina Salinas and Kevin Andrade are the kind of food truck owners and operators every aspiring chef or entrepreneur should study. They are always there; their product is consistent (and consistently good) and the prices they offer for the product you receive is spot on. Thank you Karina and Kevin. And, yes, today I will have a birria torta please. Gracias.
One day I had noticed that Los Compas wasn’t in its usual spot. It had moved right on the corner of Mountain and Ft. Lowell and now boasted a cozy seating area inside of a casita. Ca-seat-a? Yeah, sorry. That nook boasted lots of family photos, twinkling lights and even a TV. So now as you enjoy a caramelo the size of your first born you can catch up with your telenovela stories. Did Juan cheat on Soledad with that temptress of a maid Paulina…again? Scandalo!
Los Compas was doing great apparently and we all celebrated their success.
That is, until, one day it was gone.
Not like moved up or down the street as it did before. It was just plain not there. The truck was missing and the casita was closed and locked. Hey! What gives? What happed to our treasured Los Compas? We want answers!
*fake riot ensues, pitchforks, torches, the whole bit*
Time became legend, legend became myth and after about a year I would guess we still didn’t have our Los Compas. That stretch of Ft. Lowell was like one big phantom limb: we can still feel it but nothing was there.
Until one day it miraculously reappeared. Parked right in front of the old Greek church on, yes, Ft. Lowell. When I saw it I screeched on my brakes like some angsty driver in an old Loony Tunes cartoon, my feet nearly went through the floor.
Approaching the truck and seeing Karina behind the sliding screen I had to ask where she and Los Compas went. Apparently that spot up the street with the casita didn’t work out and they just needed some time to fix the truck, focus on catering while trying to find a place to park again.
That Greek church has been empty for quite a while due to a fire causing more damage than they could afford to repair and the plot in front of it was nearly rent free. Once again, thank you food truck gods! Only this time in front of an actual church. Hallelujah!
All was right with the world again. Well, not really. But our little midtown world is right having Los Compas back and, hopefully, here to stay. A year without my beloved chicken burrito with everything was a dark year indeed. In these trying and confusing times it’s always nice to know you can roll up to a familiar spot, hear that radio play boisterous Tejano music, grab a Mexican Coke (the only Coke you should ever drink by the way) and nosh on delicious comfort food.
Gracias Los Compas. ¡Sois los mejores!
Tacos Los Compas
1245 E. Ft. Lowell.
Weds – Sun : 10am – 5pm
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