Omnivore - OMG, it so sweet I almost lose tooth in L5P but it OK

A visit to OMG Taco, a cartoon in L5P


I know you love food trucks. You love to stand in line with other people who love them. You love to eat outdoors in the scorching heat. You love to eat with a paper container held under your chin while you try to guide sloppy food into your mouth instead of onto your shirt.

The (somewhat) exotic flavors and (kind of) low prices are attractive, for sure. And, hell yeah, it's great not to hear carnies yelling at you to catch a ride on the tilt-a-whirl or play a game of ring-toss between visits to the food trucks.

If you do happen to find some of these features of food-truck dining annoying, you might want to check out OMG Taco (1126 Euclid Ave., 404-343-3860) in Little Five Points. It's a recreation of a food truck in an air-conditioned space. Forget about the food. The look of the place itself could fuel hundreds of pages of commentary by doctoral candidates in critical theory.

For example, I could write: Two words sum up the ambiance: "Blade Runner." Right there in L5P, civilization has morphed into a strange blend of ethnicities (Mexican and Korean, mainly) with extravagant graffiti reminiscent of the visual language of preliterate tribal cultures. But written language is forming. It's just condensed (on the menu) to unpronounceable ironies: LOL, OMG, OMFG, WTF....er, LMB (Little Magnificent Balls). In fact, the irony is so thick, it sometimes requires translation, even when it's readable (as in the case of the bathroom sign shown here).


And it all looks like it came out of a box. It's kitschification of irony, the barely contemporary rendered retro. I mean KoMex street food is already a total cliche, for Christ's sake. Brrrr.

Make sense? Never mind. About the food itself:

Honestly, I really did look forward to this place, but my meal there Thursday night was not good. I have one overall complaint: sugar. Everything I tasted seemed saturated with sweetness. Is this any healthier than the usual fast food? A pair of oversized rice balls tasted like stuffed beignets. Caramelized kimchee inside a quesadilla was unbearably cloying. Meats— short ribs and pork folded into tortillas — were vaguely spicy but mainly sweet. There was not a touch of fire in a single dish.

The only thing I even kind of liked was the OMG Fries — a poutine-like mess of fried potatoes under cheese, slaw, sauce and chopped short ribs. I didn't like the toppings at all. I liked the fries. I wiped the limp fries clean, or mainly so, and spared myself the insulin rush.

(One compliment: The staff was great. In fact, the very patient woman at the counter basically designed the meal Wayne and I ate.)