Las Gorditas’ fresh fare includes two tacos, carnitas and lengua, and a gordita.

LEO’s Eats with LouisvilleHotBytes.com

In Mexico City, a sprawling metropolis of 20 million souls, you’ll find a taco stand on just about every corner.

In Louisville, not so much.

But the good news, as Louisville’s small but thriving Latino community grows, is that it’s now possible to enjoy a Mexico City-style experience at a taco wagon or two around town.

One of the best, a relatively recent arrival, rolls into the parking lot at Eastland Shopping Center (where Buechel meets Fern Creek on Bardstown Road) just about every weekend evening.

A sparkling white trailer with a big service window on the side and, weather permitting, a blue tent to provide diners protection from the elements, it’s dubbed “Las Gorditas” after one of its most popular menu items, a thick, crispy stuffed taco that bears little resemblance to the Taco Bell offering of the same name. Don’t look for a sign, though, as you’ll find none. Just look for the trailer and tent out in front of the La Preferida Mexican grocery.

Line up at the window, pick your choice of Mexican street-food fare, and make yourself at home on a stool at the single table if there’s room; or take it back to your car and dine tailgate-style. There’s no formality here. But there’s almost always a crowd, and it’s usually a happy mix of Latino and Anglo diners, united in shared enjoyment of really good food.

If you’re wary about a language-barrier problem, put your fears to rest: The hospitable proprietor, Pat Costas, is a native of Los Angeles, and his wife, Esperanza, and sister-in-law, Ofelia Ortiz, who do the cooking, hail from Big D. They’re equally fluent in Spanish and English, so monophones will have absolutely no problem placing an order or getting a clear explanation of the items on the brief menu.

The family moved to the Louisville area five years ago, and for some time operated a hot dog cart outside the La Favorita Mexican grocery in Clarksville.

Under Indiana’s relatively flexible licensing laws, the definition of “hot dogs” was loose enough to permit them to sell elotes, a hearty Mexican snack made with corn, mayonnaise, parmesan cheese and a squirt of hot red-chile sauce heated in a Styrofoam cup. Delighted customers scarfed them up, and begged for tacos, too.

Costas said he was reluctant to expand the menu, which would have placed him in competition with a taqueria nearby. But he kept his eyes open, and, eventually, in a remarkable combination of old Mexican tradition and modern technology, he found a food-service trailer on sale for a good price … on eBay.

“I decided this could be our ticket right here,” he said. Kentucky food-service law, more stringent than Indiana’s, won’t license a hot-dog vendor to sell other foods. But with a properly equipped, self-contained food trailer, he was in business. Starting last August, they began driving the trailer and tent over to Eastland on weekend evenings from their home in Shepherdsville, Ky., and a hungry crowd soon followed.

Business was so good that they continued right through the winter, missing only a few weekends when ice and snow would have kept even the most loyal clientele snug at home. On cold days, they drop walls around the tent and set up heaters inside; in more pleasant weather, it’s open to the breeze. And after losing a couple of tents in gale-force winds (“once it flew right up over the top of the trailer and went away”), he keeps the tent packed away on windy days, although on one recent blustery evening friends had pulled a squadron of SUVs around the trailer to build a wall of sorts.

Step inside the Las Gorditas trailer and suddenly you’re in a small, very bright, very clean restaurant kitchen. Pictured above: Ofelia Ortiz (right) makes the gorditas; Esperanza Costas (left) stuffs them; and Pat Costas (back) takes an order at the window. Photos by Robin Garr.

By the time spring came around, business was so good that Esperanza gave up her job of 10 years as a manager at McDonald’s to devote full time to Las Gorditas. Her fast-food experience shows, though, in crisp, quick efficiency and a spotless operation.

The trailer receives the same Jefferson County Health Department inspections as other mobile food operations, and it boasts an excellent record. “We are required to be fully self-contained. In other words, we need to be able to cook, clean and sanitize everything in the trailer itself,” Costas said. “We have all the equipment to do so. The last thing in the world we want is for someone to become sick because of our food. We do everything we can to ensure that will not happen.”

We’ve sampled quite a few items from the menu in repeated visits, and I’m prepared to declare the food right up there with the best of the region’s bricks-and-mortar taquerias. Costas attributes all this to Esperanza, who, he said, “is a real good cook, so good that she can take an empty refrigerator and make a good meal out of it. Myself, I stay out of the kitchen and take the orders.”

We’ve sampled tacos ($1.50), the traditional Mexican soft style made from a pair of corn tortillas topped generously with fillings and a garnish of chopped fresh cilantro and grilled onions. (You may also order tacos on wheat-flour tortillas for an extra 50 cents.) Carnitas, fried pork, consisted of juicy chunks of pigmeat, sizzling and deeply flavored. Lengua, beef tongue, was tender and subtle, although the flavors didn’t pop like the pork. Desebrada, thin-sliced beef with a tomato and poblano chile marinade, might have been the best of all. I would have liked a dozen.

A small quesadilla offered a good blend of melted white cheese and taco beef folded into a toasted flour tortilla. A friend’s torta ($5), a Mexican sandwich, looked like a meal in itself, on a fat, golden-brown sandwich loaf.

The aforementioned elotes ($3, known as esquites in some Mexican regions), is corn served in a cup. Costas provided a recipe: “At the bottom, we put a little mayonnaise, butter, sour cream and parmesan cheese, then the corn, and top it off again with more mayo, butter, sour cream, and if so desired, chile with lemon juice. It’s very popular among the Hispanic community.” I was a little wary when I saw parmesan being dispensed from the familiar green can, but the rich flavor and texture mix made me a believer.

You really shouldn’t visit Las Gorditas without trying the eatery’s namesake. Gorditas ($2.50), made to order, start out looking like extra-thick corn tortillas, cooked on a griddle, then finished by pressing a hot, heavy weight on top, a procedure that makes them pop like miniature pitas. Slit one side, stuff with beans and your choice of taco filling (I chose pastor, thin-sliced marinated pork with a tangy-piquant seasoning and addictive flavor).

Unless the weather is so icy or windy as to make towing the trailer hazardous, Las Gorditas opens year-round, starting Fridays at 6 p.m., Saturdays at 4 p.m., Sundays at 3 p.m. and Mondays at 6 p.m. It’s open until 11 p.m. or as long as people keep coming: They’ve been known to keep on serving into the wee hours. They also take phone orders for those who prefer to call ahead and have dinner waiting.

Recalling the storied local success of Bruce Ucan, who started with a big blue taco truck and eventually graduated to the popular upscale restaurants Mayan Gypsy and Mayan Café, I asked Costas if he shares a similar dream. “We’ll take it one day at a time,” he said. “We’ve talked about it; however, a restaurant has more overhead, more employees, more to deal with. Plus, we’ve targeted the Mexican community, and they love this, just like in Mexico, to eat outside around the trailer. It just gives that feeling of being at home.”

Las Gorditas
4756 Bardstown Road
492-0112