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| - There's a certain thrill, eating at a restaurant that's not meant for you.
The food? That's for you. But the restaurant itself is clearly meant for the convenience of the owners, right down to the TV that's blaring Spanish-language TV loud enough to be heard at the back of the kitchen. They sell DVDs behind the counter because hell, why not. And the tables get cleaned up whenever the hell they get around to it; I sat there for an hour, and the crusted plate of beans on the table next to me never moved.
You can practically hear them mutter: "We made good food, so you can feed two people for ten bucks. They want cushioned seats? Screw it, let them get takeout. They can eat in their living room."
The shame of Pupuseria is that it's only open until 9:00, because this is perfect drunk food. I will now crave this after a night hitting bars, since the food is cheap, filling, and hot. The pupusa is a small, thick pancake of fried cheese and meat, somewhere between a pancake and a quesadilla, but it's pretty damned delicious. The hot sauce that comes with it is surprisingly citrusy and tangy, not so much hot as flavorful, and the refried beans are a solid dark purple smear that goes down easy.
Is it the best food ever? No. Is it the best food you're likely to get for four bucks? Oh hell yes. It's so good you don't begrudge them the slivers of meat they use; my daughter ordered a chicken tortilla, and it was probably 95% tortilla and 5% chicken. But they'd saturated it with chicken flavor. Good enough.
The people here are friendly, they serve up cheap eats, and if you can tune out the loud Spanish TV, you can even have a conversation. In their turf. They'll allow it, being magnanimous as they are.
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