DINING: Salvadoran dish at Pupusas Sabor Hispano is a treasure

By Lori Midson, Special to the Rocky

Published November 20, 2008 at 2:09 p.m.
Updated November 20, 2008 at 2:20 p.m.

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On my first visit to Pupusas Sabor Hispano, our server, a robust man with an easy smile and a deep, husky laugh, brought a generous heap of guacamole to our table - just because.

On my second visit, he delivered a plate that - I kid you not - looked like a colony of centipedes traipsing all over one another, or worse. It turned out to be a vegetable, specifically the blossom of a pacaya palm tree, which grows rampant in the tropics of Central America.

The guacamole ($3), creamy, rich, judiciously salted, tart with the juice of lime and mounded in a fried tortilla shell with crimped edges, was well balanced, slightly chunky and difficult to stop eating.

Then there was the pacaya ($8.99), prepared in traditional fashion, its battered and deep-fried crust gilded then puddled in a mild-flavored housemade tomato sauce. Pacaya, which is slightly bitter and woody, like underproduced asparagus stalks, may very well be the most bizarre looking flower I've ever seen; it's certainly the ugliest.

And yet, it's a fascinating dish that's strangely, inexplicably good. It's also something you won't forget - especially if you're prone to nightmares about creepers and crawlers.

Another warning: Your kids will want to take the leftovers to school as an excuse for their next science project. It's up to you, but I'd think twice about that.

I wouldn't think twice about hauling a stash of pupusas ($4 each) home with me. Pupusas, the (more or less) official Salvadoran national dish - and an apt moniker for a joint that excels in them - are front and center, upstaging everything else on the menu, although you will eat wonderfully well here no matter what you choose.

The made-to-order pancake- shaped globules of masa, shaped around pressed combinations of melted cheese, beans, meats and spices and then griddled, are uniformly stellar, with a pronounced corn flavor and a soft exterior flecked with coal black shavings of burnt cheese that ooze from the seams.

Pupusas offers nine varieties of these delicious spheres including one with fiddlehead ferns, another with zucchini and a pupusa stuffed with roasted Anaheim peppers. I love them all, but none more so than the one filled with chicharron (ground pork), a smear of refried beans and molten white cheese.

On their own, pupusas are a bit dry, but they're escorted by a mildly spicy curtido, an acidic cabbage slaw that you pile on top. Eaten together, the result is pure magic. One pupusa makes a light meal; two, a full-blown feast, especially if you wash them down with a horchata ($3, small; $5, large), the creamy Mexican rice drink scented with cinnamon.

It's easy to spend the afternoon in this Central American universe, snacking on pupusas, practicing your Spanish with the gregarious staff and working your way through the multitude of salsas, which include a marvelous puree of jalapenos, avocado and oil and a ruddy chile de arbol salsa that I would happily bathe in.

The pint-sized restaurant, shoehorned into a corner of a predictably bohemian Boulder strip mall, has a certain charm about it: A neon green paper sign on the front door welcomes "costumers," the maroon booths are tatty, but comfortable and the streaky walls, the color of bright yellow legal pads, are strewn with everything from haphazardly hung paintings and kaleidoscopic tin butterflies and parrots to Mexican folk art, blankets and pottery. Lacy paper menus sway from the rafters.

On my last jaunt, the dry erase board, in true bipartisan spirit, listed two specials: a "Democratic" and a "Republican" burrito ($6.25), the former plied with caramelized, crisp-edged shards of carnitas, and the latter fattened with moist twines of white chicken. Both were wetted with an average green chile that's timidly spiced and bereft of any fire.

Two wide slices of dense, toasted bread, buttered and charred on their underbellies, hugged the grilled tomatoes, beef and peppers that comprised the al carbon torta ($6.50), a heroic sandwich that was roughly the size, in both circumference and weight, as a water-logged Nerf football.

Three more touchdowns: Pupusas serves real Mexican Coke in the bottle ($2); the choco-flan ($3.50), a hefty wedge of chocolate cake topped with a caramel-soaked custardlike flan, is surreally delicious; and the prices here are el cheapo - with nothing on the menu priced higher than $11.

That's the kind of literal change we really can believe in.

Pupusas Sabor Hispano

* Grade: B+

* Address: 4457 N. Broadway, Boulder

* Hours: 10 a.m.-8 p.m. daily.

* Food: Salvadoran and Mexican

* How much: $2-$10.25

* Reservations: Not accepted

* Noise: A roar when it's busy

* Information: 303-444-1729

* Parking: Complimentary parking lot in front of the restaurant

Noshing around North Boulder

When Pupusas opened in North Boulder in 2005, restaurants in that part of town were few and far between. But in the last few years, Uptown Broadway has experienced a culinary boom. It's not quite the caliber of Pearl Street, but North Boulder is coming into its own, offering a ream of restaurants to satisfy your culinary yearnings.

* Fabulous views are just one of the perks at Restaurant 4580 (4580 Broadway), a neighborhood hangout that dishes out a Mediterranean-inspired menu, coupled with a notable wine list.

* Ballyhooing the sustainability of an eco-friendly planet, Organic Orbit Eco Food Cafe (1200 Yarmouth Ave.), lives up to its name, doling out all-organic, free-range and wild-caught foodstuffs in a chic and minimalist environment that's more Betsey Johnson than Birkenstock.

* The excellent thin-crust pizzas at Proto's Pizzeria Napoletana (4670 Broadway) rise way above the competition, but the caprese salad and limoncello tartuffo are worthy sidekicks.

* Radda Trattoria (1265 Alpine Ave.), already one of Boulder's best restaurants, just keeps getting better, thanks to a genius kitchen crew, solicitous wait staff and a bold Tuscan-themed menu that approaches cult status.

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