What It’s Like: Eating Pupusas Overlooking a Volcano in El Salvador

It seemed a bit impetuous, going to El Salvador for a long weekend, but the opportunity arose to visit a friend and I took it. Barely able to escape the frozen tarmac in New York, I was pleased to make the last flight to San Salvador with only minutes to spare. In the morning I went downstairs to enjoy my first meal in the city. I sat under the glittery sun facing the Boquerón volcano and began to feel small in contrast to its massiveness. The beauty of the coral and yellow adobe homes jutting out from the mountains created the perfect landscape. San Salvador has such a peaceful, gentle nature that it’s hard to imagine the years of war and strife tucked away in the country’s history.

The waiter came by with a sweet smile and began to serve us. I started off with one of the best cups of coffee I’ve ever had, rich and smooth with hot milk, and anxiously awaited to try my first El Salvadorian pupusa. I’d eaten quesadillas and arepas before and thought this would be more or less the same, but when those thick, round corn tortillas arrived oozing with queso (white cheese) I was delighted. [pagebreak]

Outside, the women were still making them: taking balls of dough and tossing them firmly back and forth in their hands, stuffing them, and then rolling them out on the grill where they were seared to a golden-brown perfection. I tried two kinds: cheese and a pupusa revuelta. The latter was by far the better choice, stuffed with the trifecta: queso, chicharrón, and refried beans. The thickness of the maize made each hearty bite so satisfying.

The long strips of melted cheese wrapped around my fork and I dipped the pupusa in the curtido, a sort of spicy pickled coleslaw. Then I swirled it around a red tomato sauce balancing out the flavor. It was such a gratifying way to start the day. I basked in the sun a little longer, letting the hot rays warm my face. I took in the charm of the city, thinking I had found a slice of paradise. I was addicted.

Now back in New York, I’ve search for the perfect pupusas and have come pretty close. But they will never taste quite as good as the ones that morning, fresh off the griddle, with the volcano’s peak as my backdrop.