The El Olomega sports a sign that says “since 1990,” but that’s not exactly true. “My mother and father started,” says co-owner, Marcos Lainez. “I mean we put on our sign 1990, but it was well before that. We just didn’t want to look so old.” Technically Marcos’s uncle, Carlos Ayala, was the first to start vending in the family. “He kept telling my mother, ‘Oh you should go there because they are not selling pupusas and those that were weren’t good.’” Marcos’s mother, Teodora (known as Esperanza), started coming with his aunt, Ana Maria Ayala. They had a single small charcoal grill and were happy to make $50 to $75 dollars in sales. “That was a lot of money,” says Marcos, “better than staying at home.”
The truck is named for the Lainez family’s hometown in El Salvador, and pupusas are their must-try item. From the truck’s large serving window, customers can watch as a trio of ladies (on busy days, sometimes it’s a quartet or quintet) hand shape each pupusa, slapping the soft masa dough between their hands to form a flattened circle that’s then filled with meat or vegetables and cheese before being shut, reflattened, and griddled. The pupusas come in a range of flavors, including chicken, bean and cheese, and spinach, but the most traditional are the pupusas revueltas which are stuffed with spiced ground pork, beans, and melty mozzarella cheese, the latter ingredient being an American innovation to the pupusa form. In El Salvador they use a different cheese, “a cheaper cheese,” says Marcos. “It doesn’t taste the same. Ours tastes better.” The loroco and cheese ones are Marcos’s personal favorite. “It’s a flower. You might be skeptical about it. You might wonder what a flower tastes like. Some people think that it tastes like okra. I don’t think so. I think loroco has its own taste. I love it.” For newbies, Marcos has some advice: “We tell people to get two flavors so you’ll like at least one. You can’t go wrong with pork and cheese or chicken and cheese.” One of the delights of the pupusas are the accompaniments—the curtido, a crunchy, briney homemade slaw made of red and white cabbage and salsa de tomate, a bright and tangy tomato sauce.
“Everything is handmade. Nothing is precooked or from the shelf.”
Those who lament the loss of the “old ball fields”—the open-air atmosphere of the tents and tarps and in-your-face grills that allowed customers to see the whole preparation process from start to finish—will be comforted to know that the Lainez family is still using their old grills. They’re just installed in a new space. In fact their entire truck was retrofitted to suit their needs. They purposely made sure their wide window put the food at eye level. “That’s what people like here.… People need to see in order to buy. If you don’t see the food, you don’t know what it is and don’t want to buy.” Still, Marcos misses the close interaction that the old setup afforded. “The environment is not the same. It was better before because you had the communication with your client. You were standing right next to them. They were watching you, really close. Now you’re enclosed in the box.”
Marcos and his wife helped his mother at the ball fields for years, but it was the increased city regulations for ball field vendors that spurred him and his sister, Janet, to take over the family business. “We live in Red Hook. I said, ‘Look my parents have been there for so many years. You can’t just leave’. That’s why my wife, my sister, and me got together and formed a corperation as required by law because we wanted to protect our own.” A medical photographer by day and a jack-of-all-trades on the weekend, Marcos handles repair jobs, as well as their growing online presence on Facebook, Twitter, and their own site. “I cook, but not the pupusas. For some reasons, Salvadoran men don’t make pupusas. You’ll never see a man making pupusas. They would ask what is wrong with this guy. It’s a machista, thing.… Here all the chefs are men.”
In years past it was the soccer leagues that brought the crowd to the fields. These days it’s more likely that the people are coming just to eat. “The better teams moved over to Caton,” says Marcos referring to another set of soccer fields by Prospect Park. “They were really great for us because they had a lot of fans.” Over time as the customer base changed, so did the menu: “… the Americans wanted different vegetables. So we began to add different items to the menu.” Zucchini, spinach, and loroco are bestsellers for vegetarians, but even with the changes, the demand for the pork and cheese holds strong.
It takes all week to stay on top of the needs of the business, and the weekends are brutally long. “Saturday and Sunday for us is like 6:00 a.m. to 12 midnight,” Marcos says. “I’m the last one to get home because I have to go and park the truck. I get home at 11:30 to 12:00. Then again the next day. I have to make sure the truck is ready for the day so that when they come it’s ready to cook.”
Monday is spent cleaning, and Tuesday the cooking starts again. Even with all the challenges and the long hours, the family is proud of their hard work and their longevity at the ball fields. “We survived. We’re still here. That’s what counts.”
Adapted from the Lainez family recipe
Though pork and cheese are the most traditional of the pupusas, ground chicken also works well. Serve these with Salsa Fresca (page 240) and Curtido (page 240), and if you like heat, add some pickled jalapeños and carrots. Pupusas are made of masa harina, corn flour treated with lime. The Lainez family recommends Maseca® brand flour.
1 cube chicken bouillon
½ pound lean ground chicken breast
1 cup tomatoes, coarsely chopped (about 2 ½ small tomatoes)
½ cup yellow onion, coarsely chopped (about 1 small yellow onion)
½ cup green bell pepper, coarsely chopped, seeded (about ½ a large green pepper)
¼ cup flat parsley, coarsely chopped
1 clove garlic, peeled
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon black pepper
2½ teaspoons olive oil
xxx cheese, shredded
1½ cups mozzarella
5¼ cups masa harina (corn flour)
4 to 6 cups lukewarm water
¾ teaspoon salt
½ cup vegetable oil
In a large pot add 5 cups of water, chicken bouillon, and ground chicken. Bring water to a boil over medium-high heat and boil chicken uncovered for about 40 minutes or until chicken is fully cooked and water has reduced to just a few tablespoons. Cover and refrigerate chicken to cool to room temperature, approximately 20 minutes. When cooled, place chicken in food processor to break up any clumps. Transfer to a medium bowl and set aside.
Add tomatoes, onions, and green pepper to food processor or blender with parsley, garlic, salt, and pepper. Pulse several times until all ingredients are finely chopped.
In a large frying pan heat olive oil over medium-high. Add tomato mixture, reduce heat to medium and lightly fry for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Then add chicken, stirring to thoroughly combine. Cook for 20 minutes over medium heat, stirring occasionally, then remove from heat, cover and refrigerate until chicken cools to room temperature.
In a large bowl combine corn flour, salt, and 4 to 6 cups of warm water.
Mix with your hands until a soft dough forms. Divide the dough into 24 golf ball–sized balls.
Form the pupusa by flattening the ball of dough by slapping it between your palms to form a circle approximately 4 inches in diameter and about ¼ of an inch thick. Add a tablespoon of chicken filling and a tablespoon of shredded cheese to the center and carefully draw the sides together to close and seal. Gently flatten the dough with the meat inside to form, slapping it between your hands again to form a circle approximately 4 inches in diameter.
Heat a griddle or a large cast-iron skillet over medium-high temperature, add 1 to 2 tablespoons of oil and working in batches cook pupusas until golden-brown spots appear, about 3½ minutes each side. Serve with Curtido (page 240) and Salsa Fresca (page 240).
(SWEET FRIED PLANTAINS)
In El Salvador a typical breakfast present on nearly every kitchen table is the platanos fritos. Be sure to select plantains that are already yellow not green plantains. For best results, wait until plantain peels have turned entirely black, which means they are completely ripe.
2 tablespoons olive oil or vegetable oil
2 ripe plantains
1 cup refried beans, for serving
¼ cup sour cream, for serving
In a large frying pan or skillet, heat the oil over medium-high. Slice the plantains in half and fry until they turn golden brown, about 3½ minutes per side. Serve with refried beans and sour cream, if desired.
