One of the few things I truly lamented when I left Tallahassee — aside from leaving my friends, of course — was that I would no longer be able to eat at Los Compadres.  J-ko and I practically lived at Los Compadres, eating there at least once a week. Our mutual and unassertive friend despaired whenever she ate out with us because it was always our first choice and while she didn’t share our passion for it, she could never think of any place she’d rather eat.  J-ko told me that once he moved away from Tallahassee, he learned how to make queso dip because nothing in Seattle rivaled Los Compadres’.

And moving back to Tampa, I not only couldn’t visit my favorite Mexican restaurant anymore; I also quickly realized that I didn’t know of any Mexican places here. The few Tex Mex places I’d frequented before going to college had closed and for whatever reason I’d never fully explored the local latin district. I guess I just assumed it was mostly Cuban and I’m not terribly into Cuban food. Then a coworker gave me a list of several local Mexican places, and my dad and I went for lunch at the Taco Bus.

I knew when I heard the name that I was going to love it, and it didn’t let me down. Their barbacoa burrito rocked my world pretty thoroughly, but even if the food were mediocre, I’d probably still enjoy it just because it’s such a neat place.

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You order out of the side of the bus and then sit in a shaded patio next to the bus.  And in spite of the fact that I think being outside in Florida in the summer is a mortal sin, I never feel uncomfortable at the Taco Bus.  It’s awesomeness extends so far as to alter Florida’s molten core.  And the sink in the front of the bus just kills me.

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