When 2 Chainz's crunk anthem, "I'm Different," plays in the club, Nicaraguan quesillos sprint to…read morethe dance floor yelling, "That's my jam!" In the Caribbean, South America, and Spain, a quesillo is a dense flan-style dessert. But in Central America, it's a savory snack akin to a Venezuelan cachapa.
With one exception, my entire lunch crew has a Nicaraguan connection, either through heritage or marriage. I'm the exception. So when I mentioned discovering an undiscovered Nica spot, I was met with four pairs of doubting eyes.
Décor isn't high on Quesillos Guiliguiste's priority list. If you've ever stepped into an Italian deli, you've seen communal counters that serve workers in a hurry to grab and go. That long, chest-high piece of furniture is the centerpiece of the dining room, along with two small benches, handwritten menus, and a retro cash register complete with an oversized roll of thermal paper. My coworkers silently looked around while nodding and tallying points for authenticity.
Undoubtedly, the quesillo is the star attraction. Most visitors order one ($6) or two, and the dedicated attendant operates her station accordingly. Corn tortillas are quickly warmed in the kitchen, then topped with braided mozzarella-like cheese, sharp sour cream, and pickled onions (optional). There are three main ways to enjoy a quesillo: the "bag job," where all the ingredients merge inside a ziplock; the fancy "fork-and-knife job" while hovering over a paper plate; or my favorite, the "hand.... situation", grabbing it like a soft taco.
There are also prepared dishes like Chancho con Yuca ($13), a fricassé-style pork served with boiled cassava and shredded cabbage slathered in tomato-based gravy. You can tell the rich sauce has been reducing for hours, soaking up deep umami flavors. It's a hearty dish, but it's not my first choice with half a workday ahead. The Taquitos ($6 for two) were freshly fried and crispy, but the tiny sliver of meat inside didn't help me meet my protein goals.
Tiste ($4) is a traditional Nicaraguan drink, but it could just as easily be sold at Peet's as a Cinnamon-Sugar-Glazed Popcorn Iced Hot Chocolate. The flavors of Christmas spices, roasted corn, and dark chocolate satisfy without overwhelming your sweet tooth. Jugo de Tamarindo ($4) was just as memorable, but for all the wrong reasons. It was thicc, overly sweet, noticeably salty, and missing the sour punch I'm used to. It was so different from the tamarind juice I've enjoyed elsewhere that I thought they gave me the wrong drink.
I get that it's a family business, but had I been at Pinolandia or Fritanga Monimbó, I'd be swimming in gallo pinto and carne asada, floating on a raft of fried cheese, for the same price I paid here for what was essentially two vegetarian quesadillas. Still, this shop has the monopoly on made-to-order quesillos, and all the Pinoleros in my pack were giddy with Guiliguiste, many grabbing to-go orders for their friends and families.
