Salvadoran lunch

My morning at the free clinic ended on time this morning, giving me time to actually stop for lunch. I had heard about a new Salvadoran restaurant in the neighborhood, and ever since then I have had a hankering for that Central American food that is so simple tasty and a bit too greasy. I bounded over the snow drifts, looking down the street. Right next to the sign advertising "Deep massages -- American girls" was a little blue and white sign Salvadoran Restaurant. Despite the grungy facade with neighboring store fronts falling in on themselves, I was greeted by an impeccably clean, newly painted restaurant. The tables and floor were glistening. On the wall was a 20 foot long mural of a busy Salvadoran market. Juan Carlos bounded over to my table. "Don't I know you?" he asked me in Spanish?" It's possible I've been your doctor at some time I admitted, playing the odds. Oh, yes I had treated him in the past. I submitted the order and soon I had a plate of steaming pupusas, tamales, fried banana and yucca in front of me. Pupusas are made of masa, like the corn meal that is used for corn tortillas, but thick, moist and with a cheese and bean filling. They melt in your mouth. New immigrants bring some problems, but no one seems to recognize their hopeful, entrepreneurial spirit that brings new life to neighborhoods long ago abandoned to drugs and decay by Americans who have long ago fled to the suburbs and beyond.