The journey of Jucys Taco is one of deception. Initially, spirits are high, with the expectation of a casual taco joint that embraces a unique sensibility and doesn't bother with attempting to come across as even remotely authentic (ala Torchy's). When one finds themself inside the establishment, immersed by its environment, this preconception remains largely unchallenged; Fox News is playing silently on the televisions and it's a sanitary interior populated almost exclusively by quiet folks with nowhere better to go on their lunch break. A low-key lunch spot for those who aren't feeling like taking any culinary risks on this particular day - fair enough. Everything crumbles, however, when the time comes to order.
Jucys menu is unintuitive and unwelcoming to the first-time patron, to a degree that feels almost deliberate. Numerous entries are present under the menu's prized centerpiece, the "taco" section, including such hits as "Jucys best taco" and the "Tejano taco." But it's key to mention that none of these abstract names come with any sort of indication as to what the tacos they advertise actually contain - there's no textual description, and the menu comes with a poor visual component which only advertises (ineffectively) the look of a select few items. The entire menu is plagued with this very issue; a "various items" section contains entries the likes of "enchilada." What comes on that enchilada? Jucys has no intention of letting you know.
After little deliberation, I opted for a Tejano taco, and remained optimistic despite the stumbling block that was the menu. I was welcomed with swift and courteous service, and strutted to my table in anticipation. Upon biting into my very first Jucys taco, however I realized that I had made a very big mistake. The lettuce? Tasteless. The beef? Prepared strangely, not cooked enough to prove a warm comfort and yet too softened to hit the Taco Bell-esque pleasure center of purely unorthodox meat. The cheese? Just plain cheap. But the worst offender here is easily, EASILY the sour cream, simply because of the sheer AMOUNT Jucys thinks it can get away with putting on one taco. I now clearly saw why Jucys branded itself as the singular "taco" as opposed to the plural "tacos." Dare I say not a single being on this earth could stomach more than one taco's worth of that level of sour cream. Purely and simply disgusting. Thankfully, a gracious server offered to take my tray to the trash after I had stomached the putrid taco. She was wonderful and her action was much appreciated.
As I was ordering from Jucys for the very first time, I caught a glimpse of something you, dear reader, may find quite revealing. Not only does there exist Jucys Taco, but additionally Jucys Hamburger and even another franchise spinoff. Clearly Jucys cares nothing for the art of making tacos, opting instead for a wannabe late capitalist empire business model. However, like so many others with this same mindset, Jucys fails simply because it has no regard for creating a unique brand identity. Even my cashier was wearing a "Jucys Hamburger" hat in what was clearly a "Jucys Taco" location. Jucys has no idea what it wants people to think of Jucys as; they only desire for people to think of Jucys. I have returned to Jucys over two dozen times since that first fateful encounter, searching desperately for even one modocome of passion in either their foodstuffs or dining experience, and have only returned with the conclusion that, at long last, I refuse to continue playing this game. Jucys, I give up. Even your sweet tea leaves a fair amount to be...
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