Sabor Sajoma

“Over the past two weeks, I’ve had a Cubano that was nothing short of a spiritual experience, a chicken chipotle sandwich that still haunts my dreams, and a cauliflower sandwich so good it feels like a revelation.” Wow. If the New Haven subreddit is anywhere close to credible, I clearly have to try this place. But are others satisfied to this level? “Significant_Chest401” remembers being “happy with his eats.” With that ringing endorsement, my decision was made. I set off for “a kitchen and market in Downtown New Haven with a variety of products including tasty Dominican Food, Asian products, American and Spanish grocery, and a full deli with cold and hot sandwiches.” The lecture from my TF about my dismal performance on an Art History midterm went in one ear and out the other: unfortunately wet drapery and contrapposto don’t quite measure up to the tres leches cake and flan I had been reading (and drooling) about.

November 13th may be a little bit early for Christmas music, but the fast paced intensity of Popurrí de Navidad is a welcome greeting for any traveler who makes their way up Orange Street to Sabor Sajoma. Run by owner Maria Espinal and her husband, a Yale Hospitality/dining hall chef, Sabor Sajoma opened up last August.The market portion boasts products from far and wide. The expression “Jack of all Trades, Master of None,” clearly did not apply to Maria: Durian mochi neighbors tomato flavored Pringles, while wet tamarind from Thailand and Pasta de Aji Amarillo sit next to Violife Cream Cheese Alternative. Sabor Sajoma is indeed a virtuoso in variety: I can’t imagine another place in New Haven that would have something for both a person in dire need of yellow hot pepper paste and a cream cheese craving vegan. 

“What do you recommend?” I ask. It was 5pm and the restaurant was in a bit of a lull. As she emerged from the kitchen, the lady behind the counter looked confused. Regulars know what they want, and this amateur question combined with my frantic pacing around the restaurant taking pictures had probably revealed that I was not, in fact, a usual face. I don’t think the lady behind the counter wanted to hear any of my bullshit, so she pointed me to “The Daily Special,” a 12 dollar deal that gets you rice, lentils, and a protein. I was skeptical. It sounded simple compared to some of the other options on the menu. But then I recalled that “AreolaGrande_2222” had confidently stated that “the steam table stews are where they really shine!” With a name like that, how could I be led astray? I opted for the beef stew, served alongside with arroz con guandules (steamed yellow rice with pigeon peas), and lentils. My plate was stacked high— the portions were indeed hefty. To drink I got a passion fruit juice, but there were many to choose from, including soursop, a sweet, tangy, and creamy drink which I had never heard of before. 

I had already had a Commons lunch a few hours earlier, and the heaping pile of food on my plate seemed like a daunting task before me. I was going to try my best so I could complete my thorough review, but I doubted that I would make a real dent in this dish. How mistaken I was. 

Many great books or films encourage active viewership— they require the audience to put effort into engaging with the work. For example, James Joyce’s Ulysses follows the structure of Homer’s Odyssey, but takes place in one single day in Dublin. The stream-of-consciousness style and the different narrative techniques require the reader to pay close attention. 

As I made my own Odyssey to Sabor Sajoma, I wasn’t quite in the mood to be an active eater. I hadn’t quite gotten myself in the mindset to truly engage with my food. Unfortunately, Sabor Sajoma didn’t really care about my mood, and as I took a heaping bite, no “active eater-ship” was required. The individual simplicities of the ingredients combined to make a harmony of flavor that was infinitely complex. Perfectly seasoned, the food filled my mouth and the neurons in my brain were immediately activated. I happened to be on the phone with my friend at the time, and as he droned on with a story, I gasped slightly. But it wasn’t his skill to spin a tale that provoked this reaction, it was the tenderness of the beef stew: the comforting broth, and the immense tenderness of the beef—it truly almost melted in my mouth, providing the perfect amount of resistance on my teeth. The rice and lentils blanketed the beef with their own textures and flavors, which only accentuated the perfection of the beef. The waltz of the ingredients was cut short by a sip of passion fruit juice: tart, perfectly sweet, and refreshing. Before long, I found myself awake from the semi-trance that I had been put in, scraping the plate with my fork, and dabbing my mouth with my napkin. It was delicious.

My mistake was believing, naïvely, that I had gotten the most simple item on the menu. With that one visit, I had barely even scratched the surface of their extensive offerings. The beauty lies within the fact that this hidden spot can be a destination for anyone: a serious foodie like “AreolaGrande_2222” or someone who just wants to be “happy with their eats,” like “Significant_Chest401.” As for the beef stew, it lingered on my taste buds for days, and I am eager to return.