Dining in Vina Del Mar, Chile

A Gringo's Guide to Chilean Cuisine

Meggan Rau
If ever you find yourself in the delightful little seaside city of Viña del Mar, Chile, when your stomach starts a-grumbling, I offer you these simple words of advice: Your best bet is the McDonald's across the street.

Chile, known for its never-ending coastline teeming with fish, its award winning wine producing vineyards, and its fertile fruit-bearing soils is, surprisingly, not exactly a culinary destination.

No, quite the contrary. For some unknown reason, Chileans have acquired an odd affinity for some of the blah-er flavors in life. Recently recognized as the second largest consumers of bread worldwide, when it comes to food, Chileans believe blander is better (Latin Panel).

The truth is many of Chile's flavors (or lack thereof) simply do not appeal to the average North American's palate. And unless you're a big fan of bread and salt (and by big, I mean that you are, in fact, a born and raised Chilean), you may find yourself perplexed by what you're served in an otherwise respectable dining establishment.

Take, for instance, the beloved chorillana, served in virtually every bar and restaurant from top to tip of the country. Consisting of onions, fried eggs, and a big ol' slab of beef on a heaping pile of french fries, the chorillana has an astronomical calorie content, meaning that if you're already fat, you will be when you're through with this artery clogging catastrophe.

And then there's the ever popular completo, known to gringos as the hotdog. Completos, like bread, are an important staple of the Chilean diet, and any good Chilean will top of their dog with a mountain of drippy condiments. My personal favorite, the completo italiano, is served with an overly generous coating of mayonnaise, diced tomato, and avocado, in tribute to the Italian flag.

Much more calorically conscious is the simple sandwich, Chilean style: Take two pieces of finely sliced white bread, sans crust, spread some overly salted avocado in between, and voila, there you have it: the most boring sandwich on Earth!

And coffee enthusiasts, be advised: In Chile, Nescafe reigns supreme, so unless you're willing to make-do with the instant stuff, try to ditch that caffeine addiction before embarking on your Chilean adventure.

To be fair, not all Chilean food is bad. In addition to its excellent (and cheap) wine, seafood, and produce, Chile has contributed several shining stars to the culinary world. Empanadas-reminiscent of Hot Pockets (but in a good way), these turnovers, served baked or fried, are both tasty and satisfying. Common fillings include ham, cheese, shellfish, shrimp, and the ever popular pino, a mixture of ground beef, onions, hard-boiled egg, and olives. At about 500 Chilean pesos a pop (or roughly one US dollar), empanadas are an excellent choice for anyone trying to save a peso or two.

Chile is a nation of meat lovers, and offers likeminded visitors a plethora of meats and sausages to sink their teeth into. Many restaurants, called parrillas, specialize in grilled meats. Order a parrillada, and you'll be presented with a heap of assorted sizzling meats. Careful, though, you'll likely find a piece of blood sausage lurking at the bottom.

A pisco sour, consisting of pisco (grape brandy), lemon juice, egg whites, and powdered sugar, is a tangy and potent elixir of happiness that will quickly cause you to forget the whereabouts of your passport. Interestingly, the origin of pisco is quite controversial, as both Chile and neighboring Peru claim ownership of the drink. So, like religion and politics, pisco should not be brought up in polite conversation, as things could get heated.

Finding a cheap and delicious restaurant in Viña del Mar can be quite a task. The following eateries are sure to appeal to the gringo palate:

Cafe Journal, fondly referred to as "Cafe Gringo," serves up good pizzas, panini sandwiches, and empanadas. With its colorful and funky atmosphere, Cafe Journal mainly caters to the college crowd. If you're lucky, Latin Elvis may make an appearance.

Across from Cafe Journal, Fusion is the place to go for sandwiches. Using fresh quality ingredients, Fusion offers a varied selection of sandwiches to choose from. Try the goat cheese, basil, and olive sandwich served on a French baguette.

For pizza, Pepe's Pizza offers diners a quality thin-crusted variety. If you like your pizza a little bit greasier, and your crust a little bit thicker, nearby Telepizza will satisfy your craving.

Doner-Kabab serves up delicious shawarmas (Middle Eastern sandwiches, for anyone not in the know). Diners have their choice of chicken, beef, mixed, or "vegetarian" for their filling, and select from a garlic or cilantro sauce to top off their shawarma. Shawarmas can be a bit messy, so don't wear your Sunday-best.

In the event that you do somehow find yourself wondering if the french fry green bean concoction your waiter brought you is some kind of cruel prank, there is one surefire way to remedy the situation: Just order yourself a glass (or bottle, let's be honest here) of an excellent Chilean wine, and enjoy!

"Bread consumption in Chile." Latin Panel. URL: (http://www.latinpanel.com.br/article/static/677?GlobalSectionIDOverride=3&Pais=Chile)

Published by Meggan Rau

Sometimes I fancy myself a writer. (Shhhhhh, don't tell anyone.)  View profile

1 Comments

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  • Amy Carrasco5/2/2008

    I guess there's a flag for every country and a food for every tongue. As a fellow gringa who's married to a native of Vina del Mar, Chile, I, and many of our American friends, are CRAZY about this so-called boring, bland cuisine. In fact, the vast majority of newbies to
    Chilean food served at our parties relentlessly nag us for the recipes until we finally take the time to right them down.

    I agree Chilean food has a mild flavor, but I find it's lack of spiciness refreshing and new. It's also great for those of us whose noses run and taste buds burn like fire when introduced to hot spices. Not a pleasant culinary experience if you ask me.

    By the way, I've found the so-called "most boring sandwich on Earth" to be neither boring nor a sandwich. Maybe my husband makes it differently than the one the author experienced in Vina. In our home, it's considered a heavenly appetizer - a spread of mashed avocado, a touch of oil, and salt to taste, served atop a slice of crunchy Ita

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