Un escudo y un completo italiano

One of the best parts of visting a new place is trying new and different local food. After an exhausting day of touring vineyards and dead poets houses in and around Santiago, I was dying to kick back with an Escudo (one of Chile´s national brews, ironically enough meaning ¨funnel¨in English) and the over-stuffed Chilean version of a hotdog that I had seen loads of people chowing down on.

Carly and I sat down at one of the few open plastic tables that were lined up and down the sidewalks of Pio Nono, the main street in Santiago´s Bellavista neighboorhood. Had we realized the name of the restaurant corresponding to our table was TuTu Tanga and had a bright purple facade, we might have opted for an establishment further down. However, we had little time to contemplate, as, in record time for Latin America, an elderly but fit waiter--an apt description of most waiters in the region--approached our table asked our order.

Still set on my Escudo and hotdog dinner, I first attempted to order a pancho, that is, a hotdog as it is known in Uruguay and Argentina. When all I got from the waiter was a blank stare, I tried ¨hot dog¨ with a Spanish accent (basically, change the o´s short u´s). When there was no change from the waiter, I finally resorted to pointing to the table beside me and saying, I want what she´s having.

¨Ahhhh,¨ all of a sudden it became clear to the waiter, ¨you want an italiano.¨ As he headed back to the kitchen, I thought, well that is not at all obvious, why call a hotdog an italiano? My confusion did not last long. Fifteen minutes later, the waiter plopped down the hotdog in front of me, loaded with chopped tomato, avacado and mayonnise. It then became clear to me, ´
Chileans call hotdogs italianos because their condiments are the colors of the Italian flag.

For pictures from other Santiago activities, such as touring Pablo Nerudas house La Chascona, going up Valparaisos ancient elevators to the colored houses, and touring the Concha y Toro vineyard, click here.