Northern Virginia, kind of a non-place with no actual towns, just areas, is a dynamite place to eat. To eat anything. Except maybe soup dumplings. I have not seen them around here. Arepas, something delicious I have only found in NYC to date, are here, in Falls Church, just a skip of a drive from DC, and Falls Church is a town, sorta.
La Caraqueña is in a grievous little motel and I like that. Snugged in with white curlicue iron work. Inside, corn flour walls, ultramarine booths and a waiter with a head of hair so gorgeously black and sleek it could have been made of petroleum.
When was the last time you saw arepas on a menu? Right. Me neither.
Goes down nicely with beer. The beers here are not your typical beers.
Suprema (El Salvador)
Palma Louca (Brasil)
Xingu Black Beer (Brasil)
Briskly sautéed sirloin slivers under a runny-yolked fried egg, tomato and caramelized onions.
Quick! Name three things that are not improved by a fried egg. Thought so, I can’t do it either.
Chicken salad with lots of avocado and a cloud of shredded cheese.
Keith chose fried not grilled. Ahhh Repahhhhh was it good. Slippery little devil too. Greased lightening. NOW I get it, why a person might dream of an arepa.