Lunch trucks take more upscale approach to beat recession

Every new customer who comes to the window at Han Shik Taco compliments owner Ron Principio on his novel way of offering hot and fast gourmet cuisine.

He makes it to order on his propane-fueled grill inside a custom-made trailer parked in the lot of Lee's Discount Liquor store, 7411 W. Lake Mead Blvd. Principio, 31, plans to occasionally haul the trailer to various locales and serve up his Asian/Latin tacos on the go.

Since his soft opening last month, he has attracted a small following among kimchi slaw and bulgogi-style beef addicts. But with every Korean taco people order from him, they're just as likely to order up some advice, namely: How can they get in on this action?

"One out of three customers will ask me how much I paid for my trailer or how much it cost me to get up and running," says Principio, who quit his longtime job selling wine to open his mobile taco stand. "I swear, people buy my taco to see if they can get the inside track on it."

Han Shik, which refers to Korean-style cuisine , is one of a growing number of "upscale" mobile food vendors in Las Vegas, joining Slidin' Thru, Fuku Burger and Curbside Cafe. If you use social media, you've no doubt read about them, as they all use the Internet to get the word out about their daily locations and menus. You may even have tweeted about them on Twitter, friended them on Facebook or yelped about the food on Yelp.

The idea of taking food to the people is not a new one. "Roach coaches," as some people affectionately call them, have long provided a quick breakfast or lunch option to construction workers. Drivers pull up to a job site around break time, open their windows and sell muffins, coffee, burritos and sandwiches. No big deal.

But there's something about this new spin on the food truck that makes them a big deal with locals.

Maybe fans have never worked a construction site.

"I think it's genius," Dawn Pisacano says of Slidin' Thru, a truck that dispenses gourmet sliders. She discovered the truck in May and now tracks it down weekly. She was the first customer during a recent Thursday lunch service, waiting in her car until the truck awning opened up. "He's offering high quality food made to order on a truck, and he's doing it with a great attitude."

Pisacano's family owns an Italian deli in her hometown of Long Island, N.Y., so she has an appreciation of what it takes to feed the public. It's not easy, she says, especially in an economy like this.

Ricardo Guerrero, owner of Slidin' Thru, attended culinary school but left to sell time shares. Making money that way was too stressful, he says, so one day, he asked himself, "What am I passionate about?"

His mother encouraged him to start a catering business, especially after he kept bringing her leftover food. Guerrero had heard about gourmet lunch trucks in Los Angeles and, on a hunch, made a scouting trip to track some down. The food was good, he says, and the idea inspiring. This was his true calling, Guerrero decided.

"I've always had a passion for being in the kitchen, being around food, going to restaurants," says Guerrero, 23. "Selling time shares, it's good money, but it's stressful, a roller-coaster ride with the pay. I felt like I wasn't fully taking advantage of my potential."

Guerrero was born and raised in Las Vegas and didn't know a thing about street food. He had never even eaten at a hot dog stand, but he says he was familiar with the bad reputation of some lunch trucks (hence the nickname, "roach coach"). Done right, though, he felt it could become a lucrative business.

"I figured if I'm hearing about the lunch truck movement, other people must be, too," he explains. "I figured this is a real popular trend and untapped niche market out here."

Nearly 2,000 people follow him on Twitter, which he uses to advertise his location and the occasional special slider. Followers have been known to drive across town to sate their slider cravings. Recently, Guerrero tweeted clues to a secret location where he would dole out the French dipper slider. When he arrived at the Lakes, a crowd of about 100 awaited him.

It took an average of two hours to get their food, but many tweeted satisfaction, even saying it was worth the wait.

People come prepared now for long lines, bringing coolers and chairs and newbies with them, Guerrero says. To many, it has become more than lunch or dinner; it's an event.

It's hard to say why the concept is so appealing, Principio says. Some people like it because they feel like they know a secret others don't, he suggests.

Colin Fukunaga, 39, co-owner of Fuku Burger truck, believes that people are fed up with corporate food. They want to support small, independent and local operators. Fukunaga started planning his truck eight months ago with business partner Robert Magsalin, 31. At the time, they knew they had a great idea that no one else had stumbled upon. Then Slidin' Thru opened, and it was like a dagger to the heart, he says. But they were cheered when Guerrero was their first customer and even sent out a tweet to his followers, telling them about the new food truck.

The idea has clearly tapped into the zeitgeist of Las Vegans, food truck owners say. It surprises none of them that their customers declare intentions to start their own.

It's not easy, though. Buying a lunch truck requires an investment that, while it's much less than opening a restaurant, can still exceed what most people can secure. Fukunaga and Magsalin have invested $80,000 to get up and going, and that includes permits and licenses from the city, county and health district.

Right now, "we're robbing Peter to pay Paul," Fukunaga says.

Hopefully, that won't be the case for long, he adds.

Contact reporter Sonya Padgett at spadgett@reviewjournal.com or 702-380-4564.