As I was eating two tacos and a bag of store-bought chips – which cost me, all told, about $22 – from a food truck with an absolutely horrible name (that I won’t share to save the embarrassment of the owners), it occurred to me that I cannot remember the last time I had a good meal from a food truck. 

Food trucks, as best as I can remember, appeared on the mainstream scene about 10 to 15 years ago. The concept has been around both nationally and internationally for much longer, and I can remember both food trucks and food vans servicing the construction sites I used to work on as a plumber’s helper in East Texas. 

Many of these late ‘00s and early ‘10s food trucks served Korean, Mexican or other forms of ethnic food, and many were quite good. For many of the owners, food trucks were a way to get in the game after a brutal recession. And many of them did – all across the country you can find brick-and-mortar restaurants that started as food trucks. Many of these are now cornerstones of the local food scene. 

But – and this is just one man’s opinion – we’re a long way from the glory days. The majority of the food trucks I see these days are expensive, uninspired and disconnected from their local food scenes.

First, expensive. There is no doubt that food costs are rising across the country. Even a trip to your local Wendy’s is bound to set you back as much as $15 for the same burger and fries that would cost maybe half of that only a few years ago. Food trucks are no exception. As I observed at a recent food truck park, it’s hard to get a good meal at a food truck for less than $20. In addition to this, the reduced staff inside the truck – and the high demand outside of it – means that you’re also likely to wait a hot minute for your order, which is a cardinal sin in American dining, especially on a warm day where temperatures are well above 80 degrees. 

Secondly, food trucks have become dull, uninspired Sysco clones of each other. And for that, I blame an unlikely source: The taco. 

Tacos have been a staple food for food trucks for decades, and the reasons why make a lot of sense. For one thing, food trucks, especially in the Southwest, were often operated and run by Mexican business owners who were often serving hungry construction workers and other folks that viewed the taco as a comforting taste of home. And the taco is a good, mobile food. You can prepare ingredients like meat and rice in bulk and you can turn around orders quickly. I have known few pleasures in life quite like a plastic sack full of foil-wrapped tacos on a hot day in Texas. Simple, delicious and hard to mess up.

But, more and more, what I’m seeing is something different and even perhaps a bit sinister. What I’m seeing are food trucks owned and operated by white males – bros, if you will – selling vile concoctions wrapped in store-bought tortillas. Random ingredients like mac-and-cheese. Runny salsas. A lack of appreciation for the beautiful ingredient that is cilantro. This lack of connection – a kind of whitewashing – is perfect for the kind of developer-sponsored, silent disco-loving non-culture that only the worst excesses of capitalism can bring. There is no joy in a bastardized taco, there is only indigestion.

That leads me to disconnection. I am, in many ways, a traditionalist. While I love new ideas and new flavors, I tend to believe there is nothing new under the sun and everything comes from somewhere. So, for that reason, I am most excited and delighted to find a forgotten local recipe or ingredient that not only awakens my palette, but my sense of connection and creativity as well. I truly believe that good food motivates us to be better as people and, as cliche as it may sound, feeds our soul in a way that provides a brief respite of hope. 

And not everything has to be borne out of the past. New diets and trends are fine, within reason. But give it some gravitas. Tell a story about me or you with the menu. Deliver more than a styrofoam container filled with mush. Food is a chance to make more than a profit. It is a chance to connect and unite communities.

Again, this seems to be a lost art. When food trucks arrived on the scene back in the day, they offered an alternative to the pompous and bloated excesses of fine dining, as well as the empty calories of fast food. Just as the craft cocktail scene was reclaiming Friday night from the perilous grip of the appletini, food trucks offered not only something flavorful and filling – but something exciting as well. There are few clear signs of God’s providence on the wretched soil of this Earth, but a delicious food truck across the street from a bar or music venue at midnight is certainly one of them. 

The closest I’ve come to this recently was a sausage cart outside a local watering hole a few months ago. Again, nothing fancy, just happy customers ingesting peppers and onions and mustards before going their separate directions into the night.

And yet, more and more, economics dictate that food trucks be pulled up to some predetermined afternoon event where your choices are a burger, some type of slop in a bowl and, of course, bad tacos. I’m an optimist, and I believe we can do better. Pop-up food service – carts and food trucks – are popular across the world and are likely here to stay in America. We should expect more. The current moment overrates novelty and underrates the fundamentals. Give the people what they both want and need – a delicious, filling food that’s delivered fast and at a great price.

I posed this question to a few of my friends: “When was the last time you ate something you loved from a food truck?” Outside of my ever-enthusiastic friend who lives in Portland, Ore., each one struggled to come up with something that wowed them. The entire idea of the food truck seems to represent some bygone era of Millennialdom. As we talked, I thought of the cycles and revolutions of music. A new idea comes on the scene, it changes the way people think and experience music. But quickly – usually about 10 years down the road – the idea becomes stale and bland. The originators have often moved onto more ambitious and exciting ideas and the second string comes in the pick over the bones. This is usually an era of bad guitar solos and overlong expression.

Usually, right at this moment, something else comes in – a “punk rock.” It strips the idea back to its most human elements and puts it back on the streets in a way that excites and enthralls a new generation of listeners. Likewise, I think it’s time for food trucks – and American food in general (that’s perhaps another column) – to have its punk rock moment. It’s time to strip away the additions and see what was so good, so useful and so defiant about food trucks in the first place. 

But at this point, I’ll settle for a decent taco.