Cornucopia

When I first got to Nicaragua, I couldn’t tell a quesillo from a tortilla from a guirila. Each is a variation on a corn-based flatbread, but in the interest of Nicaraguan-Canadian diplomatic relations it's best not to mix them up. I was introduced to the quesillo on a bus trip from Managua to Leon, when five of us were squeezed into a two-person seat, as per custom.  The woman to my right leaned into me to breastfeed her screaming child, while the guy on my left sang drunken ballads in between glugs from his bottle of Tona.  I was hot.  I was irritated.  I was hungry.  In my moment of darkness an angel called out, “Quesillos, quesillos!”  Gesturing to the woman balancing a bowl on her head and pushing through the crowded aisle, I prayed she was not an apparition. She handed me the plastic-wrapped treat in exchange for a few cordobas, and I savoured the cheese-filled corn tortilla, topped with pickled onions and cream.  The cries of the baby hushed, and the drunkard’s snores grew distant.  Such is the power of the quesillo.     

Eating well in Nicaragua means embracing corn.  You can’t escape it, and you wouldn’t want to.  A lot of Nicaragua’s best food comes from this edible grain, dating back to pre-Spanish conquest, when the crop spread from Mexico, and played a key role in the spiritual and nutritional fulfillment of indigenous groups.  The corn deity of the Aztec people, Cinteotl, is often depicted with yellowed skin and ears of corn jutting from his headdress.  He would no doubt be honored by the creative uses his worshipers found for this versatile grain.

Compared to the quesillo, the tortilla is less likely to induce zen, but it’s a staple in Nicaragua.  The standard vehicle for moving beans, rice, meat and vegetables from plate to mouth, you’ll find it served with most meals.  Matt studied tortilla-making tips from my Nica colleagues, and stayed up all night meticulously rolling cornmeal dough into small balls, before flattening them between circular pieces of plastic wrap and lightly frying them, one after another.  In the photo below, you can see the product of his labour of love.

For me, the king of the corn-based flatbread is the guirila. (Please don’t ask me to pronounce it – there’s a tongue-rolling trick involved that I have yet to master.)  Travelling for work in the northern mountains of Nicaragua, my colleague pulled up to a small restaurant, unassuming but for the sign claiming the best guirilas in the whole country.  The sweet yellow pancake-like treat appeared at my table, together with sour cream, fresh cheese and a cup of locally-made coffee.  I’ve always been a fan of cornbread, and the guirila is a moist cornbread flattened into a light patty.  Dunked in cream, and washed down with strong coffee, the guirila is comforting like apple pie. I became a fast fan, devouring two more. 

For a real stick-to-your-bones snack, try a tamal or a nacatamal.  You’ll find these little packages wrapped in banana leaves all over Nicaragua – in markets or on the side of the street.  Driving us home one night, friends pulled up to a woman hovering over a hot grill by the curb.  She passed a bundle through the car window and, playing hot potato, we untied the strings holding the leaves in place to find a dense ball of corn paste.  It was sweet and buttery and had I been at all cold (which never happens here), it would have warmed me right up.  Nicas recommend the nacatamal for Sunday lunch, so that you are free to indulge the impulse to sleep afterwards.    

But don’t be fooled into thinking that corn is only for eating.  The pinolillo is a popular cold drink made by adding water or milk to toasted and ground corn kernels and cacao powder.  The result is a thick, chocolatey drink.  It’s so popular here that “pinolero”, meaning “somebody who drinks pinolillo”, has become a colloquial term for a Nicaraguan.  I'm not sure how many pinolillos I need to drink before becoming a pseudo-pinolero.  Perhaps I ought to make a plea to the corn god.  Though he’s long since been replaced in the hearts of Nicaraguans by other deities, I picture a contented, if forgotten, Cinteotl holding a frothing cup of corn juice in one hand, and blessing this land of corn lovers with the other.

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