I. made. pupusas.

I’m proud not because they were terribly difficult, but because I accomplished what I thought was impossible; I replicated a meal I’ve gone out for countless times, craved countless times, and thought would only ever come to me via the hands of a woman from El Salvador and under the brights fluorescent lights of a cheap and cheerful Latin American establishment.

As I’ve written, pupusas are very special to me. They remind me of home and of friends. They have created fun loyalties (Teams El Rancho and Acajutla), and I’ve watched devotion to pupusas turn into warm relationships between those who serve them and those who eat them.

But they’re just another take on Latin American street food: grilled, filled dough. Not exactly duck confit.

I had no designs on making pupusas when I went out for them to El Pulgarcito here in Vancouver. Until then, I’d only ever been to Rinconcito on Commercial Drive (and am now officially on both Team El Rancho and Team Rinconcito).  As I went up to pay, I became totally distracted by the shelves of Latin products that stood before me. When I saw that I could get a giant bag of masa harina for $3, I could hardly say no.  One day, my angel thought, one day I might make pupusas or my own tortillas. My devil thought, at least when that big bag gets in the way of everything in your small cupboards and you have to throw it out, you’ll have only lost $3.

Presented with another weekend where it was best to think about eating in, I looked at that big bag and set out to make pupusas.  Friday night was a test batch. Queso filling only to see if I could find some success. Ground pork, refried beans, shredded zucchini and a plant bud called loroco are other popular fillings. Once I started mixing the water into the masa, the aroma told me I was on the right track.  It smelled like a pupusa…

And the final product tasted like a pupusa! I was shocked. They weren’t perfect, but given the circumstances, it would have been like walking on water if they were. Beaming, I knew Saturday would be even better. With a night of practice under my belt, not only would the pupusas be better, but the meal would be stepped up by the introduction of curtido, the integral cabbage slaw condiment.  Salsa roja is the third required member at the party, but it’s the “meh” part of pupusa eating for me. With a bottle of my favourite salsa verde on hand, I knew I’d be fine.  All that’s needed is a runny salsa, really. The avocado is an Acajutla bad habit. Avocados and guacamole have no business on pupusas, but Acajutla started bringing their avocado sauce (like a pureed guacamole) out with all dishes. Not ones to turn down gratis avocado, my friends and I now break the rules.

How to eat them? I was taught that you take the disk and carefully split it in two.  Asbestos fingers are sometimes needed and/or a knife.  The filling doesn’t always split evenly, but it’s fun to create the cheese strings (see below). And now you’ve got double the surface area for condiments. Load up your circles and then fold them up like you would a soft taco.  Stacks of napkins should be at the ready.

Pupusas

All that’s needed is masa harina, water, salt and your choice of filling.

The ratio is:

Masa 2
Water 1+
Filling 1 (cheese, refried beans, seasoned ground pork, etc, or a mix)

Salt
Vegetable oil

For me, three or four pupusas is a good-sized meal. For three pupusas, I used 2/3 cup masa and 1/4 teaspoon salt.  I used monterey jack cheese, but you could use mozzarella or a Mexican cheese that melts well.

Add initial amount of water to masa and salt. Keep additional water near your bowl as you may need up to twice the original amount.
Stir with spoon and then use your hands. Keep adding water until you get the consistency of plasticine. Knead for a minute or two. The dough shouldn’t crack easily and it shouldn’t be sticky. Cover with plastic wrap and let the dough rest for 10 minutes.

Preheat oven to 200 degrees and heat a frying pan or griddle to medium high. Brush lightly with vegetable oil.

Divide dough into golf-ball sized rounds. Use your thumb to make a hole in the ball of dough and then begin to make the hole wider so that you’ve made a cup-like shape.  Fill the opening with a generous tablespoon of filling (or as much as you can comfortably get in there) and pack it down.  Mold the sides of the cup to pinch the opening closed. Then start to flatten the ball into a disc with the palms of your hand. I read that traditionally the pupusa is slapped between your palms to flatten it out. You could use a tortilla press or a rolling pin as well. I think your hands give you more control, however, and a better sense of if the filling will come out or not — try to avoid this.

Cook pupusas for about two minutes per side. You want some blistering to appear. Pupusas can be kept warm in preheated oven while others are being made.

Serve immediately with salsa and curtido.

Curtido

Now, I didn’t follow any recipe variation closely on this because curtido is one of those dishes that you can tweak to your own tastes.  Like heat? Add more  jalapeno. Don’t want it crunchy? Let it soak in the water a little longer. Want more of a pickled taste? Let it chill in the fridge for a day or two before eating. I like a lot of curtido with my pupusas and would guess that you need the following amounts per person. I also was able to take the short cut of using the supermarket’s salad bar for the cabbage and carrot because I only needed enough for one.

1 1/2 cups of shredded cabbage
1/2 carrot, grated
1/4-1/2 jalapeno, minced
1/4 teaspoon dried oregano
1/4 cup water
1/4 cup white vinegar
1/4 teaspoon salt

Cover cabbage and carrot with boiling for a few minutes. Drain well.  Mix all other ingredients in a bowl and then add cabbage and carrot. Cover and let sit on counter for at least an hour to ferment. I used mine right after, but it can be chilled for later use.

El Pulgarcito, Vancouver

Rinconcito Salvadorean, Vancouver

Acajutla, Edmonton

El Rancho, Edmonton

I had my first pupusa six years ago at Acajutla.  It was a moment that changed my carb-loving life forever.

Not much more than a corn dough pocket filled with good stuff like seasoned pork, refried beans, and cheese, the simple pupusa from El Salvador has few culinary rivals in my world.

[Apologies in advance for the many cellphone camera photos.]

Naked Acajutla pupusas

Fully dressed Acajutla pupusas

I was happy enough with my Acajutla relationship until El Rancho came along.
With additional filling offerings such as zucchini and loroco, my fidelity was seriously in question.  After my first taste, my heart now belonged to another.

If you’re from Edmonton, it is likely that someone at some point has asked if you are on Team Acajutla or Team El Rancho.
Me? Team El Rancho.

El Rancho pupusas

But in a town where you’re lucky enough to choose between the two, the difference is really just preference, not because one is substantially better than the other.
I find that El Rancho pupusas tend to be smaller, thicker, and with a crispier exterior.  They are easier to eat with your hands if you like to split them open.  Acajutla pupusas are cheesier and have a larger diameter.  In terms of the pupusa accoutrements, Acajutla makes a better salsa roja (red sauce), El Rancho, a better curtido (cabbage slaw).

El Rancho pupusas split

It’s all apples to apples after that for me.  I like the homemade tortilla of an Acajutla burrito, but I like the El Rancho insides better.  Acajutla gets many points for their avocado sauce, but El Rancho has better desserts… I love their tres leches cake.

Acajutla burrito

And I can’t forget about El Rancho’s salad.  I have no idea what their brown dressing is, but it’s addictive.

El Rancho's house salad

I will greatly miss it.

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This post marks my end in Edmonton and my beginning in Vancouver.

Cream has jumped the Rockies and set herself up on the West Coast.

This weekend, I finished getting everything out of boxes and am starting to feel comfy in my new home.
To celebrate, I went for pupusas.
With one mixed, two bean and cheese, and a side of guacamole as a nod to Acajutla’s green sauce, I have found a little piece of El Salvador to remind me of home.  And right on Commercial Drive.

El Rancho
11810 87 St
Edmonton

Acajutla
11302 107 Ave
Edmonton

Rinconcito Salvadoreno
2062 Commercial Drive
Vancouver