ediblegarnish: the search for guatemalan food

Y'all know how I travel.

So imagine my disappointment when Eric warned me that Antigua doesn't offer a lot of Guatemalen food. There were a lot of fancy trendy mixed Euro contemp American (?) esque places. You know those places that has an unfocused menu. We went to one of those places one evening, and I was so sad. The place was ostensibly an... Italian place? with all the pastas on the menu...but with lots of Belgian accents in the restaurant and on the beverage menu and also they accepted Bitcoin? I got the conejo because it was the only thing that was still in Spanish on the English menu, so some part of me felt like maybe it would be good. It was not. It was tough and drowning in basically bbq sauce. My favorite part of the dish was the steamed broccoli on the side (y'all know I don't love steamed veggies).

We came to a consensus as a table that we needed a palette cleanse.

I had my mind set on the El Salvadoran pupusa place that was on the way home. It looked like a hole in the wall with the flattop right near the doorway, but if you walked in there was a whole courtyard of seating to enjoy your $2 pupusas.

Not Guatemalan but satisfied my need for something Latin, something corn, something beans.

But I'll backtrack a bit. When I landed, delirious, sweaty, and of course starving, I needed a pick-me-up snack. Luckily, we passed by the empanada car that Eric and friends frequently buy from. It was a good-not-amazing-but-reliable ham and cheese empanada. Enough to carry my little legs to dinner. Eaten with a side of gawking at the dog on the roof.

How'd you get up there little bud?

Actual dinner was at El Criollo. I've already swooned over the courtyards, one of which El Criollo was located. Look at this tamarindo against this serene green backdrop.

I asked my shuttle driver what I needed to eat in Guatemala, and he said pepian, hilachas, and chile relleno. Easy. All these things were on the menu at El Criollo, but then I saw revolcado *eyes emoji*.

The waiter didn't want to practice Spanish with me, and he was very skeptical of my questions about the estofado de cabeza, corazon, higado y pulmones de puerco. I'd recognize cabeza on a menu anywhere. Not sure the waiter was convinced even as I ordered the revolcado, but he didn't know my love for offal.

Okay, I'll admit, pork liver is not my favorite thing. In fact, it was maybe the only thing I wouldn't eat for most of my life after a bad encounter with liver and onions. So that the stew contained chunks of liver and was thickened with pureed liver was almost overwhelming for me, but my love for the textural __ that is lung and heart overcame. It was really good honestly. I ate the entire bowl as Eric looked on with disgust.

He would say the joke's on me though because later that evening when I was starting to feel hungry again, we ventured out around the corner for a quick bite. I truly wanted a taco but as soon as the food arrived, I started to feel so nauseous. No amount of jamaica was helping. I couldn't put a single bite in my mouth as I continued to slowly sip on my drink.

And then I threw up in the bushes. Twice.

At least I made it 'til after we paid and started to walk home. I think it was travel exhaustion + the half bag of spicy doritos I killed just before dinner. Eric thinks it was the liver. Who can know? Either way, I felt good enough to climb a volcano the next day.

interlude for market pics because y'all know I love markets

We went to La Casa de Las Sopas because Eric's housemate's friends loved it so much they went twice, and that's a rave review. This is where I'd finally try pepian, I thought.

I almost got derailed because the menu of soups was extensive, and it was drizzling outside and honestly a bowl of soupy black beans sounded pretty good... but I stuck to my travel minded gut and got the pepian with a leg of chicken that was melting off the bone and into the saucy soup that was as cozy as it looks. It didn't taste like anything specific or special to me, and it also didn't remind me of anything else. But it was comfortable and warm in my tummy like a thicker, spicier chicken noodle soup.

Second least favorite meal was at El Patio. We ended up here at my gentle insistence after debating where to go for dinner as the clock ticked down because things close hella early in Antigua. We didn't want another Como Como experience. We wanted something spicy, like actually spicy. Someone suggested tacos, which was not well received, but the alternative was Thai food, and I just didn't want Asian food in Guatemala. It's hard to make decisions. We settled on a standard place Eric and his roommate had been to, but as we neared the restaurant, they remembered the place only has six tables. El Patio was around the corner; it looked new and modern, but they had tacos, and I just really wanted tacos now.

I got these shrimp tacos with ajillo for the chimichurri, and you know, they were fine. Quite a bit of cheese that looks lazily melted over the top, and not actually that spicy, but it was satisfying enough. What was not satisfying was my weak ass paloma. Our attempt to get a real drink at another bar failed after trying to catch an Uber in the rain because the place was inexplicably closed.

intermission for pretty views from convent ruins

La Cuevita de los Urquizu certainly has an eye-catching set up. They have a big buffet of ollas filled with soups and stews that you choose from (or go half n half on), and then as you shuffle your way in, you choose your sides (which includes rice, but they give you an additional little tamal).

I did half n half pepian (for a comparison - I liked this one better) and hilachas (as the other recommended stew - didn't feel that special) with a side of rice and guac.

And then after I made my selections, I saw the pork trotters buried in cabbage and had to have it. They warned me it'd cost extra. I said, give it to me. And I did not regret.

At some point Eric told me about how the Happy Meal was invented in Guatemala, so naturally I had to have a Happy Meal. The desire was stronger after I saw the Black Panther toys. I selected one fried drumstick that came with a tiny envelope of fries and a tiny cup of jamaica - apple sauce pouch for scale. And then because I couldn't resist I also paid the extra cents to get a chimichurri sauce that was the most upsetting shade of green and mayo based.

The unique items were these grilled cheese toasty things that I didn't even bother finishing. Lol that it was just two hamburger buns pressed with way too much oozy processed cheese and one tomato (because I ordered the tomato one).

Our trash fast food tour continued on to Pollo Campero because apparently people looovvveee this place. Honestly, the fried chicken plate was pretty good and crispy. Plantains are always a win for me. The beans were dried and sad. The tortillas were limp and sad. I couldn't finish all of it, feeling heavy with grease and guilt, but I wrapped up the big thigh with intentions to snack on it later. We fed it to the stray dogs outside Eric's apartment instead.

pause for Hawaii vibes at this sunflower farm in the off season

I wanted more street food. There wasn't a lot of it. But we did pick up a couple tostadas. Simple. Easy. Apparently they use parsley instead of cilantro. We thought it was a fluke until parsley made an appearance on the second ones we got in the evening.

This cart was lively and lit up like a mini stadium with people surrounding it. We waited for a bit before deciding to walk like 100ft down to a smaller cart in the dark where there was no wait.