For over 50 years, Mama Rosa’s has dished out Salvadoran favorites to Houstonians. We sample a breakfast plate, pan con gallina, and pupusas.



3631 Hillcroft St, Houston, TX 77057

(832) 426-4322

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9am–8pm Mon–Sat (closed Sunday)

Visited on October 6, 2018

Mama Rosa’s has been serving pupusas and other Salvadoran specialties to Houstonians since 1966. About a month ago, we arrived on a Saturday morning planning to try their version of these thick, stuffed corn tortillas, but when we stepped into the dining area packed with families, we noticed the same breakfast plate at every table, and a sign for a tempting sandwich called pan con gallina (“bread with hen”). Our eyes bigger than our stomachs from having skipped breakfast, we placed a mammoth order of four pupusas, one desayuno Salvadoreño (Salvadoran breakfast), a pan con gallina, coffee, and a glass of horchata, the rice milk beverage also found in Mexican restaurants. The coffee was weak and burned—even spooning in the sweet, spiced horchata failed to save it—but the café is not why people flock here.

Pupusas ($1.99 each): The pupusas are Mama Rosa’s star attraction. These large, handmade masa patties come with a variety of fillings: cheese, beans, chicharron, loroco (the edible buds and flowers of a Central American vine), and combinations thereof. We each ordered one bean and cheese and one cheese and loroco. Served piping-hot from the kitchen, the pupusas are accompanied by a pitcher of mild tomato salsa and a plastic jug of curtido—a relish of lightly-pickled cabbage and sliced green chiles. Combining a crisp exterior, pillowy insides, and hearty, uncomplicated fillings, Mama Rosa’s pupusas are among the most homey food items hungry diners can forage for themselves. Topped with wads of the crunchy, mildly picante, tangy curtido, an order of two pupusas might be the thing that saves you. The extra lucky are those whose pupusa leaked some cheese onto the flat-top where it transforms into a savory burnt crisp. Of the two types we tried, the cheese and loroco won out for its leafy flavor and crunch, which pairs well with the mild, white Salvadoran cheese, but both were good.

Desayuno Salvadoreño ($6.99): Three-quarters of the other diners were tucking into this plate, so we followed their cue and received a pile of fluffy eggs scrambled with tomatoes, onions, and green bell peppers and served with fried plantains, refried black beans, a cup of crema (Salvadoran sour cream), wedges of fresh cheese and avocado, and two thick, handmade corn tortillas. The waves of comfort this desayuno pushed across our palettes made it easy to understand why so many order it. The beans were silky and salty, the tortillas defined freshness, and the plantains—caramelized and crisp, but juicy on the inside—had a sweetness that made them perfect candidates for dipping in the faintly sour crema.

Pan con gallina ($6.99): We expected the pan con gallina to be like a torta Cubana, but it turned out to be something entirely of another order—envision an entire picnic crammed into a bread roll. Our first bite of the pan con gallina met with some unexpected resistance. Figuring a little bone had been left in the chicken, we rummaged around and to our amazement discovered a whole bone-in drumstick tucked in among the other fillings. To avoid any chewing mishaps, we pulled the leg out, stripped the meat off, and stuck the strips back into the roll along with [sucks in a deep breath] a hard-boiled egg, tomato, cucumber, watercress, carrots, lettuce, radish, cauliflower, and—of all the ingenious things—potato salad. A vinaigrette dressed this glorious mess, made even messier when we poured on the warm, brothy salsa served in a pitcher on the side. Even so, there is something perversely enjoyable and somewhat romantic about a sandwich that necessitates caution and major interventions. For us, it evoked memories of a sloppy, bone-in pork chop sandwich we once purchased from a house window and consumed in the streets of Mamou, Louisiana, during Mardi Gras. The world needs more adventure in the form of sandwiches like this.

In retrospect, we ordered way too much and ended up taking some home to enjoy later, but our bill still stayed under $30. When we do it over—and we will—we plan to leave enough room for other items, such as the tamales de elote con crema (corn tamales with cream), yuca frita con chicharron (fried yuca with pork skin), and caldo de res (beef soup).