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.
Cristal (Peru)
Suprema (El Salvador)
Palma Louca (Brasil)
Xingu Black Beer (Brasil)
See?
Diputado
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.
Sifrina
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.
The Lunch Encounter 