Humble trucks, great food

Los Angeles has always struck me as one of the most aesthetically democratic of cities. The beaches are public, half the museums are free and culinary glory is sold at every street corner for almost nothing. It's paradise for the impoverished food lover. So these new regulations don't just attack taco trucks, they hurt eaters, especially poor eaters. In a lot of places in town, it's the only meal you can get for three or four bucks. And in some places, it's a great meal for three or four bucks.

Taco trucks live and die by the quality of their food, so they tend to have, on average, better chow than full restaurants with the same type of food. And because trucks can move to where there are customers, there's higher turnover, and hence, fresher food. They meet a precise need for that large hunk of the marketplace that cares a lot about the food and not at all about the premises -- sort of like Amazon.com, but with pork. Which is why, I suppose, they're an economic threat.

They're good for Los Angeles too. The reason so many people think of L.A. as a community-less disaster of urban sprawl is the lifelessness of our sidewalks. Right now, in a lot of streets, the taco trucks are the only spots of humanity -- bright little oases of meat and cheer in the night.

So go out to your local taco truck and have a taco. Or, if you know the location of one of the few trucks that make them, have a cemitas poblanas, a Central Mexican sandwich of fried meat, fresh avocado slices, chipotle chile paste and Oaxacan string cheese. Or try an atole -- a hot, thick corn drink, spiked with sticks of cinnamon, best enjoyed on a cool night outside a taco truck. Put your paper plate down on the trunk of your car, lean back, take a breath of fresh air, sip your atole, and enjoy it while you can.