I had dinner at Izalco last night, the Salavadorean little cafe on Lawrence between Ashland and Clark. It was my first time eating there, I went because I was hungry and wanted someplace cheap, well-lit where I could read my book and get in and out quickly. I'm no pupusa expert, I have only eaten them once (in Denver) with a Salvadorean who instructed me to pile the cabbage salad into a small mountain on top and chomp away. Anyhow, my pupusa was fine, I'll go back to try the others but this post isn't about pupusas.
It's about seeing something on a counter behind the counter that you have no idea what it is, you're not even sure if it looks appetizing but still going up and pointing at it and asking the waitress, "What is that?"
I didn't read much of my book. It's hard to balance a pupusa quivering with a mound of shredded cabbage and read snappy prose. The whole time I was eating my eyes were pretty much on two things: the sordid drama unfolding on the telenovela (soap opera) on the TV (scorned lover in prison, adultery, heavy sighs, slammed doors, etc) and these sheet pans cooling on the back counter with what looked like shiny corn bread, low corn bread, not high fluffy corn bread. Kind of slightly crispy maybe even burned corn bread.
When I went up to pay at the cash register, I asked (in Spanish, my waitress spoke almost no English) "What are these?" And she said, "Quesadilla de something something" (My spanish is super rusty these days.) And I did a cartoony double take. "Quesadilla?" And she laughed and basically said, it's not like a Mexican quesadilla it's a sweet bread. And I said "ohhhhhhhh." And as I was saying "ohhhhhhh" she quickly sliced me off a little piece and placed it in my hand.
Not only was the act of placing a sample in my hand a wonderful generous thing to do, the morsel was dreamy. It did not have the texture of cornbread at all, but rather a density like a pound cake but more moist like you'd get in a zucchini or banana bread. Once cut it looks like it might even be custardy but it's not. The cripsy edges balanced nicely with the sweetness in the center. It was sprinkled hither and thither with sesame seeds. I asked what kind of cheese was in it and she said four cheeses: queso fresco, queso blanco a third I didn't catch and then the kicker, parmesan. I don't know why I thought that was funny but it made me giggle. An Italian cheese in a Salvadorean sweet bread. I love it!
I bought a 6 inch slab, for lack of a better description. For the first time in a decade I wished I still drank coffee because I can see how that could be the perfect pairing. A little slice of the cake/bread, a little cup of rich coffee. But even without the coffee, it tasted great. My intention was to bring it home to my husband and 2 year-old so we could eat it for breakfast. But there was only a funny little square left in the bag this morning because I kept taking little slices off of it last night.
Anyhow, if you know exactly what this is called, I'd love to know. And if you ever find yourself at or near Izalco, and you have a sweet tooth, I say give it a go.
Cheers.
bjt
"eating is an agricultural act" wendell berry