The flavours in San Salvador are older than the capital itself. Indigenous Pipil traditions were built around maize, beans, cacao and native herbs; Spanish colonisation later brought pork, dairy, wheat and new cooking techniques. Over four hours and 14+ tastings, we'll weave through San Salvador, pausing at street stalls, pupuserías, markets and old-school local institutions. Before we get started, our tour reflects the local cuisine and the limitations of traditional eateries mean we unfortunately cannot cater for every dietary restriction. Here's an honest appraisal so nobody is disappointed: 
 ✔ Suitable for no seafood diets
 ⚠ Possible for vegetarians, pescatarian, gluten intolerance and no seafood diets, no pork diets, though some tastings may be unsuitable ✖️ Unsuitable for vegan, lactose intolerance and halal diets

Start where so much Salvadoran cooking starts: maize. Unwrap a soft tamal de chipilín con queso, where tender corn masa is folded with the distinctive leafy herb chipilín and creamy cheese. Then comes tamal de elote, made from fresh sweet corn and fried until crisp and golden around the edges before being finished with cool crema. Wash it down with atol de maíz tostado, a thick roasted-corn drink with a warm, nutty depth. Then meet El Salvador's undisputed national heavyweight: the pupusa. These thick, hand-shaped griddle cakes have roots stretching deep into the country's Indigenous food traditions, but generations of Salvadorans have transformed them into something approaching national identity. At a favourite local pupusería, ours comes filled with mora, a leafy green, and molten cheese. Pair it with velvety artisan drinking chocolate. Cacao was being cultivated and consumed across Mesoamerica centuries before Europeans encountered chocolate.

Cut through Mercado Hula Hula, where vendors, shoppers and street cooks offer a glimpse into everyday life in the capital. Then fast-forward several centuries for a decidedly more modern San Salvador legend: the chory. The Salvadoran hot dog isn't interested in restraint. Sausage disappears beneath sauces and toppings inside a soft bun, creating the sort of gloriously messy street food best tackled standing up, preferably with several napkins within reach.
 The pupusa isn't finished with us either. This time try pupusa de arroz. Rice dough replaces the usual maize, creating a thinner, crisper shell around rich cheese and aromatic loroco, the edible native flower whose distinctive flavour is beloved across El Salvador. Same national obsession. Completely different bite.

Now loosen the belt. Attack yuca frita con chicharrón: cassava fried until crisp around the edges and fluffy within, piled with rich, crunchy pieces of pork. 

 Then go considerably further back in time with atol shuco. Made from fermented maize, this savoury, tangy drink has deep roots in El Salvador's Indigenous food culture. It's earthy, unusual and unlike almost anything most visitors will have tasted before – exactly the sort of thing we're here to find. There's room for another detour too. Bite through the golden corn shell of a pastelito de pollo to reach a savoury filling of seasoned chicken and vegetables. By now we've encountered maize as tamales, pupusas, fermented atol and crisp pastry. Salvadorans have had several thousand years to figure out what to do with corn. They haven't wasted them.

Next we're pulling up a chair somewhere with serious history. Step inside a billiards hall dating to 1937, where generations of locals have gathered around the tables for beer, conversation and something good to eat. We'll do exactly the same. Order a cold local beer and snack on chorizo de tusa, seasoned Salvadoran sausage traditionally wrapped in dried corn husk. Even here, after tamales, pupusas and atol, maize manages to sneak back into the story, this time not in the food itself, but wrapped around it. It's the sort of place we'd never want to polish up for visitors. The history, billiard tables and local atmosphere are precisely the point.

After 14+ tastings, we're finally heading for the sweet stuff. First comes Salvadoran quesadilla, and forget everything the name suggests elsewhere in Latin America. Here it's a rich, tender cheese cake with a gently savoury edge, traditionally enjoyed with coffee but perfectly capable of finishing a feast like this. Alongside comes pastel de tres leches, sponge soaked with three kinds of milk until impossibly soft, rich and unapologetically indulgent. Four hours earlier, we started with maize and native herbs. Along the way we've eaten through pupuserías, market streets, modern street food and a billiards hall that's been pouring beers since 1937.