Last month, Salvadoran president Mauricio Funes became the first president to make a formal apology to the victims of El Salvador’s 12-year civil war that ended in 1992 and left 75,000 dead.

As a result of the bloodbath, many migrated to the United States, resulting in a boom of Salvadoran restaurants throughout the ’80s.

Orlando and Magin Bonilla were among the many who came to the U.S., inspired to share their indigenous recipes with North America, and provide traditional Salvadoran food to their fellow migrants. The cousins opened El Migueleño – a nickname for someone born in the Salvadoran city of San Miguel, the Bonillas’ hometown – in Seaside more than 26 years ago.

“They opened this place because there are so many Salvadorans around here,” says one frequent customer and fellow Salvadoran transplant.

The unassuming establishment, across the street from the post office on Broadway, is cluttered with kitsch art: a large acrylic of little girls playing with a bird, a leather machete holster with “El Salvador” painted across it and a statuette of a bald eagle holding up an American flag with its talons. Against the restaurant’s back wall, there’s a six-foot display case overstuffed with Salvadoran souvenirs including tote bags, baseball caps and wallets, all with “El Salvador” printed on them.

The first thing anyone should get at El Migueleño is El Salvador’s culinary innovation: pupusas.

During lunchtime, regulars meander inside and sit at the counter drinking a bottle of Pilsner ($3.50), a German-style, Salvadoran pilsner; some drop by to cash checks or buy calling cards. Every once in a while, the perpetually busy Magin, who doubles as the cook and dishwasher in addition to co-owner, pokes his head out of the kitchen for a quick “Hola.”

The first thing anyone should get at El Migueleño is probably El Salvador’s most well known culinary innovation: pupusas. For a mere $1.50 a pop, two of these suckers can easily be an entire meal. The rich, handmade, thick corn tortillas are filled with ground beef, veggies, cheese and loroco (an aromatic flower, commonly used as seasoning in El Salvador). Pupusas are served with curtido, a ubiquitous, lightly fermented salad served at room temperature, made with pickled cabbage, onions, carrots and lemon juice.

Tamales de gallina ($1.95) – a Salvadoran take on the chicken tamale – is another cheap and filling way to go. Instead of cornhusks, these tube-shaped suckers are rolled in giant banana leaves, resulting in a richer flavor. The tender corn is infused with chunks of chicken, potatoes and pureed garbanzo beans.

There’s a warning next to the yuca frita con chicharrón ($6.95) on the menu: “It takes 30 minutes but it’s worth the wait.” Yes, it is. The sizeable hunks of yucca (cassava root) and the similarly sized chunks of chicharrón (crispy fried pork and pork skin) form a mountain of yellow and brown goodness. This dish is all about texture: the outer layers of the deep-fried pork and yuca are crunchy fun with tenderness underneath. The indigenous dish is served with curtido and a mild, tomato-based house salsa.

More people eat mariscos, or seafood, in El Salvador than all the other countries in Central America. El Migueleño reflects this with ample of-the-sea offerings, starting with three varieties of cockteles (seafood cocktails), essentially a ceviche-like jumble. The cocktel de pulpo ($6.95 small; $8.95 large) is an eye-opening explosion of marinated octopus, avocado, onion, cilantro, tomatoes, cucumber and shrimp. Then there’s the caldo de siente mares, or seven seas soup ($9.95), a seafood sopa with an ever-changing array of seven different varieties of seafood, plopped into an avocado, onion and cilantro broth.

Of the 12 mariscos entrees, the mojarra frita ($10.95) stands out – a whole fish is fried to a golden brown until crispy on the outside and moist on the inside. The fish – common in many Latin American countries – has a mild white flesh and none of those pesky little bones. It’s served with rice, salad, tortillas and French fries. The fries were soggy, but everything else was well-prepared.

Dessert is an easy choice: platanos ($3.95). The fried plantains look like miniature canoes and follow that crispy-outside/tender-inside Salvadoran cuisine theme. The platanos come with sour cream and beans, a marriage of sweet and sour and an nice way to end any meal.

In addition to the traditional Salvadoran dishes, El Migueleño offers more than 14 Mexican choices, including enchiladas verdes, carne asada and flautas, all for $7.95.

The Wednesday following President Funes’ unprecedented apology, The Miami Herald published “El Salvador’s New Vision to the World,” a statement from Hugo R. Martinez, the foreign minister of El Salvador. “We recognize the value of the contributions that our countrymen have made to the cultures and economies of those countries where they have migrated, especially the United States,” it read.

In Seaside, that’s easy to see. And taste.

EL MIGUELEÑO 1066 Broadway Ave., Seaside • 11am-9pm daily. • 899-2199.

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