Coming into the new school year, there’s a lot of things I have to do: scheduling, mingling, organizing, shopping, etc. While now is possibly the best time to do all these things before Fall Quarter really kicks into gear, I can’t seem to focus on any of these -ings. I keep coming back to one thought that takes over my whole consciousness, something that Evanston just can’t give me.

God I want a taco.

Not just any taco, mind you, but a steak taco, one with two soft corn tortillas, cilantro, onions, and salsa verde.

Seriously, there’s nothing better in life than a good taco. It’s the perfect meal: conveniently packaged for quick and easy consumption, no fork or knife necessary. Thank you, Mexico, the world owes you big time.

As a Los Angelino, I’ve had my fair share of tacos. They’re a SoCal staple, though most, and arguably the best, don’t come from what you would call restaurants. No, the best tacos, as even Details magazine will tell you, come from trucks.

I once tried describing this Los Angeles gastronomical phenomenon to a certain friend of mine from Tampa, who proceeded to give me the caca face (n. the face you would make if you had poo right under your nose) in displeasure. Hopefully you’ll be more open-minded, especially since I’m not talking about your average Toyota pickup.

The trucks range from your run-of-the-mill stands, which more closely resemble hot dog carts, to your blinged-out catering trucks – complete with iced beverages, and if you’re really lucky, a salsa bar. A whole team of people fry, grill, char, chop, squeeze and dice various ingredients to your specifications. The best trucks will have a table outside with chopped onions, cilantro, spicy pickled onions and carrots, radishes, two types of salsa and a long line.

Sadly, these trucks, at least to my knowledge, do not exist in Evanston. I have no idea if they exist in the wider Chicagoland area, but if they do, please e-mail me. The Daily provides you with my contact info, so there are no excuses for you to hold out on me.

I’ve been known to publicly give attitude to those who dare suggest that Taco Bell sells Mexican food, and the very idea that they sell their namesake food item offends me. But I’ve also been known to eat there ocassionally, when the craving for something even remotely resembling a taco takes over.

I’ve also come to enjoy Chipotle’s burritos, which I hold in high esteem, although I harbor serious contempt for every other ware hawked in that place.

But in the deepest recesses of my heart, I feel that there is no true substitute for the classic taco anywhere near campus. There’s just something so satisfying about this Mexican finger food that Taco Bell, Chipotle, Las Palmas, That Little Mexican Café and even Tacos Del Lago (R.I.P) don’t capture.

I suppose this compulsion stems from something deeper than a simple craving. It’s more the physical, and in this case, tasty, manifestation of my yearning for California and home.

So lovelies, I leave you with a request: help make my bout of homesickness short. If you don’t happen to know the location of one of these traveling food wonders, take me to Jewel, and I’ll make delicious tacos for us both. ¿Por favor?

Medill senior Susan Staine can be reached at [email protected].