WORDS: Amelia Duggan PHOTOGRAPHS: Cat Allen
If there’s an art to eating a completo hotdog, then I never learnt it. Lashings of mayonnaise end up down my front and, later that day, I discover the dried remains of mashed avocado behind my ear. The vendor, a smiling matron in a striped apron, looks on with an encouraging nod as I polish off Santiago’s beloved street snack. While some might mistake the mind-boggling pile-up of toppings for a sadistic challenge, it’s really an expression of the generous spirit of the people. Santiaguinos are eager to help, to please, to impress, to share — and there’s a real deference towards travellers, who are still a bit of a novelty here. So when I give the hotdog seller a thumbs up, she looks momentarily overcome before scuttling to the next cart to share the good news.
I’ve returned to the Chilean capital — a city I once called home — after a five-year hiatus. Eager to take my taste buds down memory lane, I head to the pretty, boho barrio of Bellavista to snaffle a pumpkin fritter known as a sopapilla with fresh, garlicy pebre sauce of diced onions, tomatoes and coriander. My next stop is a refreshments hut on the ramparts of the leafy Santa Lucía Hill. While I sip my icecold mote con huesillo, I’m rewarded with views across Santiago. It appears unchanged: there are the same glassy skyscrapers, charming colonial pockets and grand historical centre, and the distant diadem of snow-capped Andean peaks just visible through a light smog.