Quito, Ecuador, is a sleepy, provincial South American capital. Pretty, white colonial buildings in the historic center give way to drab mid-century urban sprawl, with an occasional high-rise looming like an unwelcome weed in a flower bed. The city is surrounded by dramatically verdant hills where the metropolis suddenly ends and country begins.

Arriving at the centro histórico, UNESCO's first World Heritage Site, I leaned out the window of our large, old-fashioned (and surprisingly cheap) room and surveyed the pedestrianized street below. Passersby came and went. Many women were clad in brightly colored pleated skirts that swayed as they walked and thin-brimmed fedora hats, the kind that are so fashionable these days with international hipsters. We ventured out for a jaunt, just as the sun disappeared behind the mountains. A light drizzle began to fall.

Ecuadorean comfort food

First things first, I thought: Let's scope out a place to eat. Quito's center, I was to discover, retires like a Midwestern farm family -- early. The many hole-in-the-wall lunch joints and chifa (Chinese-ish food) places serve their last meal by 4 or 5 p.m. and throw in the towel. By the time we got around to feeling hungry, the only restaurant we could find was on the second floor of a converted colonial building, now a mini-mall. This attractive place offered Ecuadorean specialties, which, of course, I couldn't wait to try. I ordered a bowl of locro, creamy yellow potato soup with little else in it, and a plate of llapingachos, mashed potato cakes, served with sausage, fresh hominy and a fried egg. It was bland; just food, filler. I was to eat a lot of this during the next two weeks.

I used up the whole bowl of mildly spicy fresh tomato salsa that was provided. "OK, we didn't come for the 'cuisine,'" I reminded myself. "It's their comfort food."

Quito's modern central market

Things got better the next day at the clean, modern central market where I toured the food stalls, sampling anything that looked intriguing. The market is colorful, though not as exuberant as its Mexican counterpart. The fresh local produce includes at least a half dozen varieties of potatoes that look earthy and fresh -- yellow, white, oblong and round. There are several chilies, (here called 'ají'), and many tropical fruits unfamiliar to me.

Among the hot-selling items are the tomate de árbol or tree tomato. Oblong and yellow/orange with a woody stem, these are not related to tomatoes at all, although the texture and flavor is similar. They're used in salsas and sweetened fruit drinks. We tasted a variety of pulque, the fermented, lightly alcoholic sap of the maguey cactus. It's a drink I'd thought was exclusive to Mexico; the Ecuadorean version is slimy, yeasty and much sweeter than its Aztec cousin. Best of all, we found sheets of rich, dark, bitter chocolate made by the vendors themselves. Who would have thought that Ecuador produces some of the best chocolate in the world! I ended up schlepping 10 pounds home.

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Quito, Ecuador

A bowl of locro.

Vendor in the market.

Potato vendor in the market.

Vendor in the market's hornado section, with roast pigs.

Quito, Ecuador

A bowl of locro.

Vendor in the market.

Potato vendor in the market.

Vendor in the market's hornado section, with roast pigs.

In the comedor (food stall) section of the market I tried little cakes made of mashed green plantain -- dull as a Latin textbook. Secos are stews of chicken or pork in a red sauce. "Tastes like Chef Boyardee," my companion Jim suggested. I longed for a spicy Mexican mole. I did discover, to my delight, a national dish from the coast, to which I became addicted. Encebollado is a fresh tuna fish and yucca soup complemented by thinly sliced onion (hence its name), tomato, cilantro, cumin and tostados, the crunchy, roasted corn kernels ubiquitous to this part of South America.

Aisle of pigs

By 11 a.m., we'd stopped at several stands and I was full but unsatisfied. So it was with glutton's regret that we entered the most spectacular aisle of all. At least a dozen stands offered whole roasted pig, here called hornado. The creatures were golden and glistening, skin crackling, their heads grinning with greasy glee. Morsels of meat, offered as come-ons as we passed by, were tender and succulent. I love roast pork in all its permutations -- Mexican carnitas, Cuban lechón, Southern BBQ -- and this was pig heaven.

Juana, a vendor in stand 34, explained that the animals are baked in huge communal brick ovens fueled by wood. "I need to come back tomorrow," I whined, worried that this porcine orgy would somehow disappear like a mirage. We did indeed return the next day, the smiling hogs greeting us once again. I chowed down. A plate of pulled meat was served with corn, shredded cabbage salad and a couple of those mashed potato pancakes, which by now, were starting to grow on me. I was beginning to understand the "comfort food" angle. Our trip was picking up, food-wise. Ecuador was beginning to look more like a country with a cuisine, and I wanted to dig deeper. The best was yet to come.

Nicholas Gilman is a founding member of a Mexican chapter of Slow Food International, the author of "Good Food in Mexico City: A Guide to Food Stalls, Fondas and Fine Dining" and served as editor and photographer for the book "Mexico City: An Opinionated Guide for the Curious Traveler." He has a website, goodfoodmexicocity.com, and has appeared extensively on radio and TV in the U.S. and Mexico. He lives in Mexico City. His last story for Zester was about Cairo.

Top photo: A bowl of encebollado. Credit: Nicholas Gilman

Slide show credit: Nicholas Gilman

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