El Quetzal

The Quetzal, as the menu at El Quetzal will tell you, is a Central American bird that to the Aztecs was a representation of life and freedom. El Quetzal itself is a small, happy little restaurant on Beacon Hill celebrating life through authentic homemade Mexican food. Each wall has been brightly sponge painted a different color and sun and moon decorations adorn the area near the counter. As you look around you will notice that the clientele is mostly Mexican, and this is a good sign. The nice lady working the counter brings you warm salty corn chips and cactus salsa and hands you a gigantic menu full of breakfast and lunch items. Not listed on the menu is horchata, but be sure to ask for it anyway; they have it, the thick, milky variety, not the watered down stuff usually found in taquerias. The breakfast items consist mainly of eggs and sound very substantial: eggs with Mexican sausage, eggs with tomato and jalapeño, eggs with diced ham, eggs with beans and cheese. There is the usual assortment of tacos, made with “double soft” tortillas and priced at $1.50 each. I, however, didn’t try any of these and instead went straight for the tortas. El Quetzal’s tortas, or Mexican sandwiches, are described on the menu as “gigante”: this is not a misnomer. My torta chilanga, made with breaded flank steak, arrived taking up the entire dinner plate. The bread it was served on was light, crusty, soft and warm on the inside, like the very best French baguette. It was stuffed with tomato, onion, avocado, mozzarella, and chipotle sauce, which gave it a nice hint of spice. God but it was good. My sister’s pombazo was similar to the torta but with sabroso salsa baked into the bread crust. It was stuffed with a mixture of ground beef, peas, potatoes, and carrots, and finished with shredded lettuce, sour cream and cotija. My father’s quesadilla came with the same filling as the pombazo, and its homemade corn tortilla, soft in the middle, crispy at the edges, is what tortillas were meant to taste like.

The flan, which we had no room for but felt compelled to order anyway, came in a wedge and was served with a side of whipped cream and thick caramel sauce. It was dense and totally smooth, lacking the grainy and airy quality of many flans. Every time he has flan my father regales us with the same story about the infamous "truck stop flan", eaten some 30 odd years ago in a truck stop in Mexico and always described as the best flan he's ever had. No flan has ever been able to live up to it, no matter how many he's tried over the years, and so my sister and I were shocked to hear him declare El Quetzal's flan its equal. Here's to life, Dad, and to legendary dessert; you've found your white whale at last.

El Quetzal

3209 Beacon Ave S

Seattle, WA 98144

(206) 329-2970

Monday-Saturday 8:00 am - 9:00 pm

Sunday 8:00 am - 4:00 pm