2 1/2 stars
On a chilly winter afternoon, there may be no greater pleasure than gathering with friends at Pupusas Paradise, a small Salvadorian restaurant squatting in the Mission Viejo Plaza, a suburban strip center dominated by storefronts that sell a little bit of everything: firearms at one, quilting supplies at another and quirky board and role-playing games at a place called Shep’s. There’s a salon, too, that offers a manicure and pedicure for the bargain-basement price of $30. At Pupusas Paradise, you can eat like a king for $30–and have leftovers to spare.
Vibe: Where most Salvadoran restaurants–the few that we have–might be called dives, Pupusas Paradise is a step up. In an earlier incarnation, the tidy space was Fish 2 Go, which probably explains why the gray-shaded vinyl booths are still upholstered with a fishing lodge motif. Elsewhere, though, the interior, hued the color of a new school bus, is illustrative of El Salvador, the walls mounted with framed photos of the Central American nation and a super-size sea-blue bath towel depicting an El Salvadoran map, complete with colorful pictures, stamped with an exclamation: “Impresionante!” That means “awesome” in English. The owners, who hail from El Salvador, are proud of their country’s Pacific Ocean beaches, rainforests and waterfalls, vibrant Spanish colonial towns and national parks. They’re proud of their food, too, which involves things like pastelitos, tamales, plantains and pupusas, all of which are scribbled on a chalkboard menu.
Hits: Pupusas, the national dish of El Salvador, are one of the most perfect foods on the planet, and while most of the pupuserias in Denver are fairly good, like everything else in life, there is always someone, something or some place that owns the title of kingpin. In the pupusa arena, that salutation belongs to Pupusas Paradise, which more than lives up to its utopian name. The hand-patted saucers of fresh masa or rice dough ($3-$3.25) camouflaging molten mozzarella cheese, zucchini, chard-like loroco (a nutritive flower bud), minced pork, carrots or a smear of beans–and, in some cases a combination of the above–are griddled on the flattop, the edges charred devil’s black, the interiors a delirium of melt-y ooze. The pupusas are matched with obligatory curtido, a chile-lashed chopped cabbage salad singing with vinegar, as well as a pair of housemade hot sauces, one of which is so volatile that it fills your bloodstream with fire. You’ll either recoil from the penetrating burn or lap it up like Palov’s dog. I find it addicting.
The spot could serve nothing but pupusas and still fill tables (which it frequently does), but if you wander in, you’ll also want to get the empanadas ($6.25) parceled with tender shards of marinated chicken, green olives and potatoes, their crunchy exteriors stained crimson from achiote paste. The chicken tamale ($2.95), supple, savory and steamed in a banana leaf, is the thing of fevered dreams. So, too, is the corn tamale ($2.75), a cylinder of pure splendor that tastes exactly as it should: of sweet corn and little else. And the empanadas de platano ($6.95), a trio of cane sugar-dusted half moons, their shells constructed from plantains, are swelled with clouds of creamy rice custard that make you wonder if divine spirits are lurking in the kitchen. Weekend specials are worth the trip, too, if only for the exceptionally comforting carne guisada ($11.95), a fragrant tomato-intensive stew populated with beef, carrots and potatoes.
Misses: The cooks–all female and from El Salvador–are goddesses of Salvadorian food, which means that there’s not much to avoid. True, the sugar-frosted yucca nuggets are probably a bit too dense, and the ropes of fried yucca, matched with impossibly crisp pork cracklings, quickly turn soggy under the deluge of tomato sauce, but the bundle of craveable pickled cabbage crouched on top pretty much makes everything right with the world.
Drinks: There’s no liquor license, and nor do the owners have any intention of getting one, but the ensalada, a refreshing fruit drink bobbing with chopped apples, is peculiarly delicious. There’s also housemade horchata and agua de jamaica, a lineup of Jarritos sodas, coffee and Kolashanpan, the national soda of El Salvador.
Service: You order at the counter, and servers trot out the dishes to your table. This isn’t a fast-food-joint, and everything is made in house, so be patient. The staff is lovely, and while English isn’t their first language, the menu is written in English and Spanish, and the servers are helpful if you have questions.
Bottom Line: If pupusas are your poison, then this is your paradise. It’s a joint that lives up to its name, and while it’s not fine dining, the space is clean and convivial and, like the food, a clear love letter to El Salvador.
Price: Pupusas, empanadas and tamales ($2.95-$6.25); Large plates ($6.95-$8.95); Desserts ($2.75-$6.95)
Fun Fact: Co-owner Sara Rivera, who moved to Denver from El Salvador, met her business partner Angelica Quijada, also from El Salvador, through Ingeniería Vital, a local organization that offers career transformation workshops. Rivera had always wanted to start her own business, but she knew she couldn’t do it alone. She and Quijada became fast friends and, together, the two saved their money and opened Pupusas Paradise.
Restaurant Info
Pupusas Paradise
15462 E. Hampden Ave., Aurora
303-862-8652
www.facebook.com/pupusasparadise/
Hours: Breakfast, lunch and dinner Tuesday through Sunday; closed Monday
Reservations: Not accepted
Parking: Free lot
Star Rating Guide: Ratings range from zero to four stars. Zero is poor. One star, satisfactory. Two stars, good. Three stars, very good. Four stars, excellent.
