In This Corner . . .

If you’re feeling a bit peckish, for both food and self-reflection on your own class position, Luchador food truck might just be the perfect tool for a little culinary reflexivity. The mobile restaurant totes itself as a Mexican fusion machine, and though that may be a moot point for any cuisine in the West, I’ve enough gull to say it teeters more on the side of anything haute. Yup, its new school cartoony mural of little luchadors will dilate your pupils, and its portions will have you feeling the pangs of today’s current food trends and the price you have to pay to be a part of them. Only the most socially obedient can belong to Luchador, because I’m willing to bet it’s a one time visit for a lot of us. Not because of the food. No, no. It’s pretty good. But the portions had me crying and reviewing social constructs of control in a Victorian era residually present today, of all things, in what is supposed to liberate high cuisine from the tyranny of restaurant costs. Oh food trucks, I thought you were for the people? I guess not. Instead I found myself shelling out near ten dollars for two tiny steamed buns postured as ‘tacos’,  and 6 for two tiny slider hamburgers with pudgy finger sausages. If we can agree though that eating anything from Luchador is about taste, and not sustenance, then there’s nothing to argue; I can only hope the masses are as civil as me. I was culled by the coos of the masked Luchador calling my name and telling me that my ‘lil Filipino tortas lonagnizas’ and ‘momofuku steambun tacos’ were ready. I wondered if Dave Chang knew Luchador was alluding his food? I felt quietly had when I discovered how small my portions were. I expected enough food to fill the salt-of-the-earth. Two tiny tacos. Two tiny burgers. By now you all get it. You’re gonna pay for it; and it’s up to you all to appreciate it. I certainly could appreciate Luchador’s finesse for managing some things. Its proprietor is a powerhouse of culinary knowhow. Don’t be fooled by my polemic. A serendipitous chat with Luchador’s owner had me more than humbled, only because he himself was. Articulate, well-versed, aware of the performance of food, Luchador doesn’t claim to be cutting edge. It just looks for what people like and tries it. No rock stars here. Only food industry perspective, which is why I imagine everything turned out so well. 

Luchador’s infusion of flavours were impressive. I could taste the five spice in the background of my bacon-esque pork belly. I could taste the heat and lingering lime of the cold slaw of my sliders. I could appreciate the chewy airiness of my steamed bun ‘tacos’ (a food feat I find finicky). The mallo-like texture of my mini slider buns. The tender give of my charizo like sausages. Luchador corners a texture market, there’s no doubt. Even the pork belly had an interesting crunchy exterior with a fatty interior, albeit a dry one. Still, I was wrestling a hoisin sauce too sweet and overpowering, and sprigs of cilantro that had me wondering why even bother? There was nothing there to lift up savoury flavours that otherwise pinned my palette down. Paradoxically, the coldslaw was a little languid, put over by the rich sausage. It would champion being eaten alone though. I loved the creativity of the stuff.

My meal was a rushed finish, a quash in the portion department, but a strap in attempting to deliver flavor. I’d like whatever else offered to fill a proletariat stomach, but I can’t be too angry about that. Luchador does good by the market; and certainly by food. 

LUCHADOR GOURMET STREATERY
Twitter: @kwLUCHADOR

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