I’ve been hearing about the pupusas from the Salvadorean
Bakery in the South Seattle neighborhood White Center for a long time.
Last fall, it seemed like everyone I encountered—friends,
acquaintances, random people at parties—were singing the praises
of these stuffed corn cakes that are a staple of Salvadoran food. Among
intrepid Seattle eaters, the Salvadorean Bakery enjoys a cultish
devotion. A few months ago, I finally made the pilgrimage. It may be
heresy to say so, but the pupusas were disappointing.
“We must go to Burien,” my friend Mike proclaimed when I confessed
my disappointment in White Center’s pupusas. “Burien,” he declared, “is
the new White Center.”
Mike is easily excitable and prone to dramatic declarations,
particularly when food is involved. One of our first conversations
revealed our mutual love of lamb, cooking, and restaurants in the
International District. We envisioned starting an eating group so we
could share our favorite foods and discover new ones; there was brief
talk of writing a manifesto. Our group (Mike, me, two friends/chefs,
and one insatiable vegetarian) explored the culinary delights of dim
sum on MLK, the Eastern European delis of Bellevue, and the Indian
sweets of Renton. And, now, Burien.
Burien—11 miles south of Seattle, population 31,881—is a
fascinating, dynamic community. Among the many ongoing construction
projects is the ambitious $138 million Burien Town Square—an
undertaking of the King County Library System and Housing Authority and
the private businesses Urban Partners and Westport Capital
Partners—that aims to be a “new, exciting, vibrant place to live,
work, shop, play, read, and have fun for the whole family.”
The 1990 and 2000 censuses show that while Burien’s population has
grown only slightly, the proportion of minorities has swelled from 11
percent to 26 percent. The percentage of foreign-born residents has
more than doubled; one out of ten Burien residents claims to not speak
English well. Immigrants were drawn to Burien by job opportunities
(mostly factory work: fabrics, packaging, cleaning fish) and affordable
housing. They were joined by family and friends from their home
countries, as well as California and Arizona. Old communities were
reunited; new communities were formed.
On the corner of Burien’s Ambaum Boulevard Southwest and Southwest
153rd Street, there’s a wide spray-painted pole depicting a bright
orange sunset, dolphins frolicking in rippling blue water, and palm
trees. It’s topped with a sign, also featuring an orange sunset and
palm trees, that reads, curiously, Taste of Fiji Indian
Cuisine (653 SW 153rd St, 444-0405). Outside the locked doors
of this restaurant whose mysterious fare can only be known through
private events, you don’t need to look far for other diverse eating
options. Barely one block north, in a frighteningly square, squat
building whose vanilla pudding–colored vinyl siding and dingy
awning barely cling to their frames, the Wah Long Sport Bar
Restaurant (15220 Ambaum Blvd SW, 244-1499) offers beer and
egg rolls. Just up the street from Wah Long is Middle Eastern grocery
store Sahara Market (660 SW 152nd St, 241-7307), which
occupies the same building as Sabor Chapin, a tiny restaurant serving
“Mexican American Guatemalan Dish.” A short block north of Sabor Chapin
is AAA Polynesian Deli & Store (810 SW 151st St,
214-0414), where you can buy corned beef, corned mutton, camp pie
luncheon loaf, and cans of Filipino favorite Ligo-brand sardines. In
the back is a steam-tray deli of hot, homemade Polynesian food like
roast pig, braised turkey tails, mackerel and taro stewed in thick
coconut milk. (If you’re lucky, chatty, and curious enough, the big
sweet dudes of AAA might assemble you a generous sample plate of these
rich, nap-inducing dishes.)
My quest for the superior pupusa was fulfilled at Salva Mex
Pupuseria y Comida Mexicana (15019 Ambaum Blvd SW, 988-1234),
which serves some of the tastiest food in Burien. The owner, a huggable
sort of man with soft presence and wavy white hair, takes all the
orders, brings each table a jar of housemade cortida, and
delivers a marvelous, moist puerco tamale (filled with a few
surprise garbanzo beans) that’s so good you look forward to dreaming
about it later. I could happily eat only Salva Mex’s fried yucca and
chicharrón for the rest of my life; the sweetness of
subtle, starchy yucca and beloved pork fat combine to make a perfect
savory bite.
There’s a wealth of Chinese and Mexican restaurants in Burien.
Though these places differ wildly, they are the primary archetypes of
the city’s ethnic restaurants.
Asians are the longest-standing immigrant population of the Pacific
Northwest; some Asian-owned establishments in Seattle have been open
since the early 1900s (with the exception of some brief closures during
World War II when many people were sent to internment camps). Burien’s
Chinese restaurants are stalwart and familiar and most seem to include
a dark bar that brings to mind the old phrase “if these walls could
talk….” At a few spots, mouthy, weathered women behind the bar serve
stiff drinks to decidedly white, middle-aged townies. Wah Kue
Cafe (13434 First Ave S, 242-5454), in business proudly since
1950, is the ideal model: an unintimidating menu including chop suey,
broccoli beef, and such “American dishes” as breaded veal cutlet and a
ham sandwich. Then there’s Wah Kue’s bar, the On Luck
Room, a beautiful den of lanterns, liquor, and endless
surfaces of red and black lacquer. The On Luck Room might be the most
gorgeous, improbable bar in King County; at 4:00 p.m. on a Tuesday it
fills up with regulars ordering sweet-and-sour chicken and cocktails
called the Dirty Mother.
The Dragon Pearl Restaurant & Lounge (15304
First Ave S, 246-0776) is just plain dirty. Walls are stained; tables
are cluttered. The egg rolls taste like nothing, but you eat them all
anyway.
Burien’s Latino population has seen the most significant
growth—an astounding increase of 255 percent between 1992 and
2002. Latinos have surpassed Asians, becoming the largest minority
community in the city. Lupita Ayon, a nine-year Burien resident and
director of Para Los Niños, a local nonprofit that works with
Latino parents and students in the schools (Latino enrollment in public
schools went from 6.5 percent to 20 percent in 10 years), has
experienced this growth firsthand. The most noticeable change, says
Ayon, is that formerly quiet, empty streets are now filled with people,
on foot and in cars. What used to be a 5-minute trip across town now
takes her 15, and she’s likely to run into someone she knows along the
way.
Burien’s taquerias are bustling eateries brimming with meaty,
spice-scented air, the juicy drama of telenovelas playing on
high-mounted television sets, and the rapid-fire Spanish of everyone in
the restaurant, all of whom seem to know each other, all of whom are
eating something that looks delicious, that you want to eat, only you
don’t know what it is.
The buildings themselves feel odd because the taquerias set up shop
in old restaurant spaces, but didn’t change anything. Taqueria
La Estacion (14820 Ambaum Blvd SW, 439-3944), where the
nicest, slowest old man in town runs the register, is in a yellow
mission-style building that was probably once a Taco Bell. It has a
phantom drive-through window that just sits there, taking up space in
the tiny parking lot. Taqueria El Rinconsito (214 SW
152nd St, 431-0663), which makes a mean lengua taco, is in a
building that looks like a giant, green, misshapen sombrero.
While perusing Chowhound, I came across this delightful query: “Does
anyone know where I can get a whole small pig for roasting in the
Seattle area?” The answer: “I believe many of the Mexican markets can
get you a whole, small pig. Try Wayne’s Grocery in Burien.”
Burien’s diversity is easily seen in the abundance of closely
concentrated ethnic restaurants. But this diversity starts where the
cooking starts—in ingredients, at the market. Wayne’s
Fruits & Vegetables (144 SW 152nd St, 988-1996) is more
than good, cheap produce; it’s a Mexican grocery, a treasure trove of
Asian sauces (18 different brands of fermented fish sauce, by my
count), an epic meat selection (pig ears, cow livers, chicken feet, and
pork fat!), and an impressive fresh seafood mart. It also houses a
Russian deli selling pastries and smoked herring and a Chinese fry
station where you can get hot, fresh chow mein. The people shopping at
Wayne’s, negotiating the small aisles and brushing into one another,
are petite young Vietnamese mothers, cologne-laden Mexican dudes, and
old men in turbans with white beards.
On my first trip to Burien with Mike, he was momentarily concerned
that Wayne’s had been torn down. That’s because nearby there’s a giant,
multiblock hole in the middle of downtown where Burien Town Square is
being built. Ayon says that the city’s revitalization and development
is driving housing prices up and people can no longer afford to live in
Burien. When asked where people will go, she promptly replies, “They’ll
move south to Tukwila, SeaTac, and Des Moines, just like when they
improved White Center and people moved down to Burien.”
The pattern of displacement is difficult for the community, but it
is certain. When the taquerias move south, I will follow. See you in
SeaTac. 
