| rev:text
| - Since the eastside seems to get all the good pupusa action, I was excited to see a new Salvadoran spot closer to my part of town. I was even more excited when I stopped in and found a menu featuring many central American specialties, in addition to the famous pupusa. To be honest, the first thing that attracted me to this place was its name. I liked the sound of the word "zunzal," and wanted to know what it meant. It turns out to be a popular surfing destination in El Salvador (sometimes spelled "sunzal," but clearly more fun with two z's), and this restaurant shows its beach inspiration with a menu of many seafood creations.
I was greeted in Spanish as I entered and approached the counter. Standing at the counter, you have a full view of the kitchen. The service was extremely friendly and welcoming, so I can highly recommend this place to anyone, even if you don't possess basic Spanglish skills! I did not try to communicate in English, so if you're sensing a language barrier, I'm sure you can get by with a point-and-order simply by pointing at the menu. Or, even better, lose the intimidation and ask for "la especialidad de la casa" and let them cook for you. For vegetarians, I recommend the pupusas stuffed with cheese and loroco. Native to El Salvador, loroco is a little green flower of herbaceous character. It's a veggie pupusa! These are served with the standard accompaniments, a mildly spiced tomato sauce and some quality curtido (crisp, vinegary cabbage slaw). I noticed a few flavors of atol on a specials board and ordered an atol de piña, just to try something different. Very comforting in cold weather, atoles are warm, starch-thickened beverages, often flavored with chocolate, corn, or fruits and infused with spices. The atol de piña was very good, with plenty of pineapple and cinnamon flavor. I would order it again.
The outdated building has housed many different restaurants over the years. You may notice a drive-thru lane outside, but it is presently not in service. One wall in the dining area welcomes you to "Gringo's," and a neon-lighted ceiling box in the center of the room reminds me of a party room in a 1980s roller rink. There's a TV passing telenovelas and possibly soccer games, in addition to a very loud jukebox full of Vicente Fernandez albums. I was flipping through the jukebox as I waited for my takeout order (say "para llevar") when a random selection started blaring over the speakers. Why do these sneaky machines always trick me into revealing my apparent affection for ranchera standards? I feel safe that my closet full of enormous sombreros is still a secret.
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)
![[cxml]](/fct/images/cxml_doc.png)
![[csv]](/fct/images/csv_doc.png)
![[text]](/fct/images/ntriples_doc.png)
![[turtle]](/fct/images/n3turtle_doc.png)
![[ld+json]](/fct/images/jsonld_doc.png)
![[rdf+json]](/fct/images/json_doc.png)
![[rdf+xml]](/fct/images/xml_doc.png)
![[atom+xml]](/fct/images/atom_doc.png)
![[html]](/fct/images/html_doc.png)