oye chico: a revelation
Austinites are a fascinatingly territorial bunch. Despite the fact that I’ve resided in and about the Austin area for over twenty years, I don’t claim to be a part of the Austinite clique for two reasons. Firstly, even though I’ve been working in the city for some time, I actually only moved to Austin proper for the first time at the beginning of 2021 and I know how many big city natives feel about suburbanites claiming their zip code. The second (and arguably more notable) reason is that I was actually born in Miami, Florida eight years before my family moved us to Round Rock. Though this time of my life was brief - especially in comparison to the time I’ve spent in Texas - I’ve found that I have some unique cultural roots to contend with in comparison to many of my Austinite peers that came about as a result of the time I spent in Miami.
Unfortunately, my biological father had some demons to wrestle with in regards to his family history and therefore, I didn’t even know that I was Cuban until after I was an adult. Despite this, I have fond memories of chowing down on Cuban sandwiches, arroz con pollo, and platanos as a Miami youth and I frequently find myself nostalgic enough about the food to consider buying a ticket to Miami for some food tourism. I’ve always detested the fact that I can’t get my hands on some high-quality Cuban food here in Austin. Everytime I catch wind of a Cuban spot, I find myself running to try it, only to be met with disappointment when my expectations aren’t met. The Cuban sandwich (or Cubano) in particular has been a real frustrating white whale for me in a town that’s known for hosting such a diverse selection of quality cuisine. With no desire to put down any business that’s made an attempt at my beloved sandwich, I’ll just say that I’ve tried many and been disappointed many times. What presents as a relatively simple staple of Cuban-American cuisine possessing only pressed Cuban bread, mustard, pickles, swiss cheese, ham, and mojo roasted pork is evidently a true challenge in execution for the people of Austin.
After Jon Favreau’s revelatory 2014 film ‘Chef’ that prominently featured cubanos through a borderline pornagraphic lens, there was a surge of chefs attempting to be the first in the city to have a cubano worth talking about, but the only ones who succeeded tragically didn’t survive (RIP Live Oak Market). There was always either dry pork, too liberal of an interpretation of what the ingredients should be, or bread that was too soggy to stomach. Everywhere I looked, only despondency awaited me. I was starting to feel like nostalgia was blinding me and that perhaps this elusive sandwich was just not as good as I remembered.
That was until Oye Chico showed up on the front porch of Better Half this week and proved to me that the impossible could be done by way of a damn near perfect cubano. I caught wind of this soon-to-be explosively popular food trailer the week before last by way of some random tweet that came across my phone and immediately began a heavy bout of anticipation that manifested itself by way of me harassing them on Instagram until they opened. After a week of delays from the originally announced opening day, I lined up early outside Better Half this past Wednesday with my partner and my kids in tow to get my hands on Austin’s latest foray into the cubano. Even if the sandwich was going to leave something to be desired, I was immediately inclined to commit myself to a return visit just based on how fun the space was. Between the pale pink benches sat a semi-covered container pool that I had to stop my fully dressed children from immediately jumping into and on the other side of a nearby fence was the always immaculate patio space shared by Better Half and Holdout Brewing which just screams “gratifying day-drinking spot”.
I walked past all of the tempting distractions and was greeted by a cutesy trailer sporting a neon white smiley face and a letterboard featuring only three items: the cubano, a cafecito, and cafe con leche. I’ve found in life that you can tell a lot about a food truck by how many - or I should say how few - items they carry. The initial interest I had about Oye Chico stemmed from the fact that they were going to open up shop with exactly one food item on the menu and, dear reader, if an establishment only has one item, you know they have the juice.While I waited for my sandwich, I sipped on my cafecito and pondered about how funny it was that even a cuban coffee that consists of just espresso and sugar could be so satisfying, yet so weirdly rare to find properly executed. Through the window of the trailer, I held my breath as I watched operator Carlos Suarez and his partner gracefully dance around each other in preparation of my cubano dreams. When my moment came, I opened up a brown to-go box to reveal a perfectly portioned mojo pork, ham, and swiss sandwich with thick, crunchy center-placed pickles, and mustard between the loving embrace of a crispy cuban loaf.
I was immediately smitten.
From the first bite, I was entranced. I remember only the ferocity in which I was swept up by the emotions that a quality, moist, supple mojo pork can evoke. The crispy cuban bread provided a perfect crunch and a delicate counterbalance to the tender meat. The cheese was perfectly melted, the mustard was spread on generously, and the pickles being perfect in flavor, cut, placement, and textural re-enforcement gave an extra point of finesse to the ensemble. The greatest tragedy that this sandwich fell to was how fast it was gone. Just as quickly as it met my lips, it was gone and I was left wondering if what I had just experienced was an overblown expression of nostalgia for finally having fulfilled my craving for the first decent cubano the city of Austin had to offer or if it was really that good.
I had to find out. So two days later, I visited Oye Chico for a second time to treat my partner and I to another go around for my birthday, this time dressed to enjoy my beer in the pool while we waited. When I arrived around 12:30, I ran into a friend of mine who had stopped in to try the sandwich after hearing me rant and rave about it, but was met with disappointment that they had sold out already; it would seem that the people of Austin had already caught on to the justified hype. But to my benefit (and to my poor dear friend who had to depart for work’s misfortune), the fine proprietors of Oye Chico simply had to go re-up on bread before they could come back and crank out more sandwiches before shutting down at 2 for their regularly scheduled break between services. I was happy to wait and so I did - literally right in front of their window so that I could be the first to get my hands on this sandwich-shaped masterpiece once more. As promised, a perfectly executed cubano was in my hands just a short time later. I made a distinct effort to savor it this time instead of consuming it as ravenously as I did the first time.
I can’t explain it, but it only got better. After churning out several hundred cubanos over the course of their first few days, it would seem like los chicos at Oye Chico were only getting better at this. I’ve since that moment taken every conceivable opportunity to spread the gospel of Oye Chico to anyone who will listen because I need them to be around forever. When (not if) they convert this thing into a brick and mortar, I’ll be the first in line, but I reckon that it’ll be a long one so, if you haven’t made your move to Better Half’s newest patio addition, I wouldn’t waste any time if I were you.
Oye Chico is open at 406 Walsh Street from 9AM to 2PM and 5 PM to 10PM Wednesday through Sunday
For more information, visit their website or follow them on instagram
