Four types of meat sizzled in front of Doña Eva.
“What’s that meat?” I asked, pointing to one.
“Chicken,” she said with a smile.
“And that?”
“Beef.”
“And that?”
“Pork.”
“And that one?” I asked indicating the fourth.
“This one,” she hesitated, “This one is just meat.”
When she said that I noticed that there was a trio of solemn dogs circling the grill. They looked like they were in mourning. . . perhaps for a fallen comrade on the grill? Unlikely, but still, this was Guatemala, and four years of living here had taught me to never put anything out of the realm of possibility. Ever.
My visiting little brother and I had come to Antigua, Guatemala’s market in search of Carne Asada, Guatemalan style. Since his arrival two days prior we had been to McDonalds (go ahead, judge us), Taco Bell and Dominoes. Even though I insisted that Dominos pizza was a traditional Mayan dish, he said he wanted some “real Guatemalan food.” So we walked into the darkened market. Every stall but with the exception of a few late night street grills was shut down.
We passed a half dozen lingering venders until we found Doña Eva. According to the homeless man we consulted at the entrance, Doña Eva had the best street food in all of Guatemala. Homeless people know these things.
Doña Eva’s wrinkles were etched in the shape of her child-like grin. Her grill was made from a car wheel and atop it sizzled her four entrees: chicken, pork, steak and mystery meat. A dozen pots covered in cloth were placed on plastic lawn furniture: her kitchen. On the ground was one bucket of soapy water and two buckets of clean water: her dishwasher.
The plastic tables formed a rectangular box around her and her customers sat around that on plastic stools. I ordered two Carne Asadas for my brother. While we waited I chatted with two rough looking taxi drivers and a young couple.
“Te gusta chile? Do you like peppers?” The young man asked with a wink to his girlfriend. This is a loaded question that Guatemalans use to laugh at gringos. The gringo thinks he being asked if he likes hot sauce, and often says, “Sí.” But to an ear accustomed to Guatemalan slang, he is really being asked, “Do you like the male sex organ?”
“Depende. It depends,” I responded, causing the taxi drivers to choke on their food and Doña Eva to exclaim, “Oh, we got a live one here.” The young man, the tables now turned on him, told me that my Spanish was good, for a gringo, just as Doña Eva handed my brother and I our plates.
The homeless man knew his stuff. Though we were in a back-market booth where Carne Asada costs $2, this was a steak to write home about, served Guatemalan style. Doña Eva has 30 years experience grilling steaks past dark in the market. As long as I promised not share it with the other street venders, she agreed to tell me her recipe. I’ve made a few tweaks, assuming that you are going to be cooking on your stove or grill and that neither of these is made from an old car wheel.
Just promise not to share this recipe with any of Antigua, Guatemala late night street venders. Doña Eva will find out if you do. Buen provecho!
And if you ever want to taste Doña Eva’s Carne Asada, just head to the Antigua market past 8pm, and ask the first local you see, “Dónde está la comida de Doña Eva?” That should get you there.
