Cuy: Guinea pig, the Andean speciality. Usually reserved for fiestas, weddings or special occasions, it is not cheap and a big honour if offered to you. There are various places to eat it in Cuenca, including on the street in certain barrios, but the best place is definitely in the house of a newly made friend.
Chancho: A Quichua word for “pig,” it comes in various forms – sometimes spit-roasted, other times with the skin hardened using a blowtorch, or cut into lumps and fried in a big pan. Markets are probably the best places to eat this (Gualaceo in particular), provided you are strong of stomach and nerve.
Mote: Omnipresent yet tasteless, mote consists of kernels of maize boiled into submission over hours and then served with “aji,” the local condiment made from chilli peppers, tree tomatoes and cilantro, to give it some flavour. The best kind is “mote sucio” (“dirty mote”), friend with pieces of bacon and potato. The restaurants in San Joaquin are good places to sample this.
Llapingachos: Superb. Essentially just potato cakes, but manage to taste fifty times better than anything your local chipper has to offer. Why? The secret ingredient seems to be pig fat. Perhaps we are starting to see a trend here…
Tamales, humitas, quimbolitos: If not pig then corn. These three are all made from ground maize, then wrapped in banana leaves and steamed, and taste great. The exact difference between them is a little imprecise (there is more to it though, I am assured, than just a different wrapping technique), but tamales are savoury, the others sweet.
Zhumir: The local rotgut, made inevitably from sugar cane, it can therefore be classified as “aguardiente.” But unlike some of the locally produced moonshine, this is devoid of any redeeming flavour, is cheap, nasty and strong as hell. A one-way ticket to a punch in the mouth.

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Teenage kicks all through the night (or at least until curfew time). “La Remigio”, also known as Avenida Remigio Crespo, is where the young and restless of Cuenca go to hang out, play their car stereos too loud, and drink alco-pops outside liquor stores until the cops turn up to roust them. Then everyone drives round the block to give the police time to leave, parks back up where they were and hey presto! It’s fiesta time again. Surprisingly omitted from all guidebooks. Wonder why?

Where? All along Avenida Remigio Crespo, in the south of the city; When? Friday and Saturday nights till late;
Where to next? Home to their parents’ house.

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A lively spot, complete with that brand of funky décor that basically involves sticking beer mats, licence plates, and just about anything else that comes to hand onto the walls. It has good burritos and guacamole, its own potent concoction consisting of blue beer, and a nice crowd. But it always seems to close just as those beers are starting to blow the blues away.

Corner of Calle Larga and Luis Cordero.

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