Strip Mall Spotlight: North Park Shopping Center
Mangonadas, taquerias, supermercados, and more on North Lamar
Reviewed by Taylor Holland, Fri., April 18, 2025
Welcome back to The Strip Club, highlighting Austin’s destination strip malls. Where else can you order melted cheese on Cheetos with a queso ice cream chaser? Stockpile black market Ding Dongs wearing an exotic fish belt? Pay nearly five grand for a dirty couch (lawnmower sold separately)?
Dollar General stores are a notorious blight on poorer communities – mostly because they exacerbate food deserts – and as we saunter in, my friend hits the nail on the head: “It’s a diabetes store.”
Speaking of nailing it, he’s a carpenter, and since it is a general store, they have all manner of provisions, such as the wooden stakes I catch him sighting for trueness. He asks me to guess how much they cost. A dollar? Nailed it!
Hold up. Did somebody say diabetes? Because Las Mangonadas has all the sugar and salt you’ll need to catalyze onset. In addition to paletas and some totally Mexcellent ice cream flavors like queso and tequila, they offer a spectacularly meta dish called “Cheetos Con Queso,” which is exactly what it sounds like, served extra stupid, in an oversized Styrofoam container – something I only know because I witnessed someone eating it for lunch.
Speaking of lunch, I’m not sure what to expect from Taqueria 7 Estrellas #2. Number one, the menu is written in Sharpie on yellow poster board. Number two, Taqueria 7 Estrellas #1 went out of business. I’m pleasantly surprised by the authentic tacos, gorditas, tortas, and guisos – as well as veggies like grilled cebollitas and elote en vaso – at this hole-in-the-wall, run by a family with roots in Michoacán. The pastor and suadero tacos are muy rico – that’s Spanish for “yummy” – and I love that they come with sliced radish and cucumber al lado.
“Seven Stars” also caters to night owls, bartenders, and other assorted drunks by staying open 24 hours from Wednesday to Sunday. I’m told the late-night clientele are mostly people coming from clubs like the nearby Paris Hookah Lounge, a BYOB joint just north of here that bumps rumps starting at 11pm. Way past my bedtime, but I’ll definitely return for another round of tacos and their fresas con crema.
Speaking of dessert, a lapse in judgment finds me back at Las Mangonadas, and while this chocolate-covered banana dipped in peanuts is nostalgic, its long, stale finish asks, “how long has this thing been sitting in the case?”
Speaking of sitting too long, the depressing, predatory vibes at Aaron’s Rent to Own are buried deep in the couch cushions. I’m greeted at the door by a brand-new cherry red riding lawnmower for grabs for $60 a week, but immediately drawn to a couple who’ve made themselves entirely at home on a Dublin Reclining Sofa with filthy cupholders and loose USB ports.
They’re staring at their phones, literally doing the math on it: This dingy-looking, floor-model lounger has a buy-it-now price of $2,772.39, but if some ding-dong leases it for $196.78 per month plus tax and “cost of lease services,” they end up paying $4,722.72 – for a shitty couch that looks like Aaron just repoed it from his dead pot dealer’s apartment.
Speaking of Ding Dongs, La Finca Supermercado has counterfeit cupcakes in their bakery section. These sweet treats look exactly like the Hostess originals, except slightly rough-hewn and not to scale, as if they were depicted in a mediocre still-life painting. Otherwise, La Finca can help you stay healthy and wealthy, because they have 16-ounce go cups of sliced mango (that would probably cost $8.99 at Whole Foods) for a mere $1.99.
Speaking of savings, I’m hoping to find a leprechaun with a pot of gold in Rainbow, a women’s clothing store selling tacky sweatshirts that say things like “Don’t Bother Me” and “Downloading Happiness” – but feck! – no lucky charms today. The shopkeeper, noticing I’m totally out of place, asks if she can help me find anything, but before I can answer, she shouts, “no man clothes!”
Speaking of man clothes, if I ever become a vaquero, I’m headed straight to Rancho Semental for some duds. Their abundant stock of exotic boots, fancy shirts, and belt buckles peak at the “Monster Fish Bicolor Nicotine Matte Luxury Belt,” a revolutionary cincture made of pirarucu fish leather that pushes the envelope in Western wear.
Speaking of revolutionaries and tobacco products, the vibes are strong at Tropicana Cuban. It opens at 8am with café con leche y pasteles, giving it the air of an all-day diner like the ones you find in Spanish colonial cities like Havana, Mexico City, or Madrid. You know, the ones where old men day drink and read newspapers.
On the savory side, they bang out all the hits from La Isla, including ropa vieja (shredded beef in a light tomato sauce with onions and bell pepper), lechon asado (pulled pork with onions and mojo), arroz congri (rice and beans with bacon), and a near-perfect Cubano – the national sandwich consisting of pulled pork, ham, cheese, pickles, and mustard – that comes with a bag of Lay’s that aren’t the least bit commie, and I’m lovin’ it. But then I find myself pondering how long it’ll be before Trump tries to turn Cuba into a casino or a prison colony, then grief-eat the rest of the plantains.
Speaking of tropical fruit, World Food & Halal Market is a typical Indian market with everything you need to make complex subcontinental cuisine at home, but the star attraction is their fresh vegetarian samosas that have a little bit of shredded coconut on the inside.
Speaking of shredding, K&L Mart / Venus Wigs has a bevy of rugs for the lady in your life, but I’m looking for something more daring, so I show the owner my baldpate and ask if she has anything that will make me look like Eddie Van Halen in the “Panama” video. She has no idea what I’m talking about, and kindly suggests I grow my hair out, not realizing that it would make me look exactly like Gallagher.
Speaking of absurdist comedy, Botanero Sports Bar is a funny place. It’s Saturday night, and I’m celebrating National Margarita Day over a plate of crispy tacos, which arrive deconstructed – iceberg lettuce, tomato, and cheese on the side – and the “ground beef” is actually chopped arrachera. Puzzling, but then I remember I’ve never seen a crispy taco in Mexico, and this ain’t Taco Bell – it’s the Taco Ball, y’all! – because just then, the incredibly loud DJ, replete with lasers and a smoke machine, pivots to karaoke.
Halfway through la canción, a man who’s been stolidly nursing a mug of Corona alone in a nearby booth abruptly pulls a wireless microphone out of his puffy coat, stands to face the crowd, and starts belting out the duet lines with perfect pitch. He’s a ringer! Corazónes explode into downbeat hand claps and a tequila-fueled sing-along. ¡Qué bárbaro!
North Park Shopping Center
9616 N. Lamar Blvd.
