“We ended our meal with atol de elote, something you’d order, say, if you were thirsty for corn.”

Hahahaha.

navigeaters:

El Salvador via Woodside, Queens: This Meal Tastes Like Pupusa

ADAM: El Salvador is the smallest country in Central America, taking up roughly the same amount of space as New Jersey. That being said, all the dishes we ate from El Salvador were better than every single thing that has ever come out of New Jersey ever. With the possible exception of Bon Jovi. For our gorging, we headed to the restaurant Izalco, which takes its name from El Salvador’s super-awesome volcano that—fun fact!—erupted almost continuously from 1770 to 1966.

LAURA: We were waited on by the owner’s son and chef José, who recommended that we start with some traditional Salvadoran drinks, Marañón juice and Horchata. Marañón, known as the cashew apple, hangs off the nut like some kind of parasitic twin. But a parasitic twin that you’d happily gnaw off—it tasted like a less acidic version of pineapple. Horchata is a finely blended beverage of rice, peanuts and spices. The first sip hit me with a strong peanut punch, but the aftertaste was more reminiscent of milk that had been seaped in Cinamon Toast Crunch cereal.

ADAM: We appetized on a hearty sopa de pata, aka cow foot soup. It came overflowing with yuca, plantains, tripe, corn-still-on-the-cob and, of course, cow piggies. The feet meat (served still clinging to the bone) was pretty fatty but surprisingly downable. Really, the weirdest part was the soft plantains. Think of slurping a beef broth then running into a cooked banana. It wasn’t bad, just not something I’d personally do with my Chiquitas.

LAURA: The stars of our dinner were the pupusas, corn tortillas stuffed with pork cracklings and cheese. They’re the country’s best-known dish, created centuries ago by El Salvador’s indigenous Pipiles Indians—and don’t let a pupusa-selling Honduran tell you otherwise. So how do you essentially stuff a pancake? According to Jose, you roll the dough into a ball, finger a hole in the middle to stuff with goodness, then flatten it out on the griddle. Sounds like a prime candidate for some kind of as-seen-on-TV gadget. Pupusa Puff, anyone?

ADAM: We also got all up on the seafood tip with shark ceviche and fried yuca with fried pescaditos. Pescaditos are a salty, sardiny-type fish that turn out to be fun to pop into your mouth whole. As for the ceviche, New York’s meddlesome Health Department doesn’t let restaurants serve true, raw shark, so the fish was cooked (booo!) making it a touch chewy. It tastes basically like most other firm white fish—think swordfish—but by eating the shark bits we did reap vengeance for all those humans killed in Jaws 1 through Jaws 3D.

LAURA: We ended our meal with atol de elote, something you’d order, say, if you were thirsty for corn. It’s a thick, warm drink made of finely ground kernels, sugar and milk. If you believe superstition, making it involves complicated stirring rituals—that’s right, stirring rituals. For starters, if you are in a bad mood, DON’T STIR IT! Salvadorans believe this will lead to bad-tasting atol de elote. Ditto if you’re pregnant. That’s why Adam wasn’t allowed to stir it. (You can never be too safe.)

ADAM: Ever since 2001, the U.S. dollar has been the official currency of El Salvador which, for international banking reasons, retired its earlier denomination, the colon. (Named after the upper part of Laura’s rectum.) Thus, after we finished eating at Izalco, we paid our bill in the El Salvador’s official currency. We’re so authentic!

Eats Deets
Izalco
64-05 Roosevelt Ave (Woodside, Queens)
(718) 533-8373