Deep down inside, there lies a a very intense fear of hipster. And it just happens that this fear of mine is compounded by a blind rage over and over. I do think, however, that such strong emotions juxtapose often: when I see one from a distance, I’m overcome with fear and loathing; and when I’m surrounded by them, their ever-multiplying numbers taking up my seat at the local independent coffeehouse or restaurant, I fill with disdain. Just why do I harbor such emotions towards this unstoppable and enlarging segment of the youth? And why am I venting here? The first question is easy to answer: their super skinny jeans and extra deep V necks are frightening, just like how some people get the heebie-jeebies when they see pictures of spiders, I feel the same when I see them posted all over the world-wide Internets. I’m sure that there are more logical reasons to be scared, but sometimes the most visceral emotion is the only one that should make sense. As for the second question: because I can, and I’m sure all 2 of my readers (I don’t count myself one of them) would skip my opening rants anyway.
More importantly, I speak of hipsters because they do plague restaurants and coffeehouses; they take up precious customer space (tables and sofas) while spending very little, therefore hurting the establishment and economy. And so that was my train of thought as I walked into Local Taco a couple nights ago. The neighborhood was the perfect breeding ground for hipsters: small brick-laden strip malls populated by independent laundromats, restaurants, pubs, and eco-friendly stores. UGH. I spotted the line in front of Local Taco, winding out the door. The outdoor patio was quickly filling up. And most importantly (as I have learned since kinda joining the working force) pitchers upon pitchers of margaritas were strewn on tables. I glanced over the menu. Fish tacos. Chicken tacos. Fried shrimp tacos. KOREAN BBQ TACOS.
Elvis has left the building. The shark has jumped. This was it. KOGI has officially changed the way hipsters see tacos. I knew I wasn’t going to get a real (dirty and delicious) taco. But I still got the carnitas taco, grabbing on to all that futility would offer. Each taco is $2.50. They come on factory-manufactured, grocery-aisle, unwarmed, stale tortillas. Tip: I’m sure the carnecerias on Charlotte Pike offer bags of tortillas infinitely tastier than these ones. So already, one key component of the taco (the other being the filling) was off. I ordered the whole shabam: carnitas, spicy shrimp, korean bbq, and pork bbq tacos. The pork bbq was basically a bbq pork sandwich with coleslaw in a tortilla instead of a bun. The spicy shrimp was sweet, not spicy. The korean bbq was also sweet, but not so much that desecrated the deliciousness inherent in Korean bbq (translation: it was decent). The carnitas was the white-flight version of pork: no fat, no grease, no flavor. I will be going to Nolensville when I want real tacos. However, if I wanted to sit on a patio and drink beers (not margaritas cuz their margaritas were disgusting and pricey) on a summer evening in a hipster neighborhood (which isn’t entirely bad) I would chill there. And all in all, the crowd wasn’t entirely hipster. The crowd was actually older, as in “I have a real job” older, but still cool. Anyway, I’m craving a taco right now. Filled with buccal muscle. That would be awesome.
Local Taco Murphy Rd. Nashville, TN
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