Driving along Interstate 84, the haze clung to the horizon like flies to carrion. A roil of various hues of brown blown across a desolate landscape. The child sitting shotgun asked if something was on fire. It was a fair question for a boy who glimpsed a red sun through smoke each and every summer.

I shook my head. It was dust. Dust so thick that it had choked out the rolling hills across the Columbia. Topsoil, most likely. It’s spring harvest, after all. Dust, high visibility survey flags, tumbleweeds, concrete bunkers. A certain entity along the river looming over all of North Morrow County like Barad-dûr. I cannot help but cringe in reaction to it all. To the relentless pursuit of progress.

However, nestled among this woebegone landscape, a spark of magic has taken hold. A tiny flame nurtured by women so skilled you wonder if they’ve unlocked some sort of ancient alchemy. These women are the true purveyors of culture in North Morrow County. The vanguard. Savants of their craft. I am, of course, talking about the women of El Salvadoreño Taco Truck in Boardman.

If you have never had a pupusa, I’m not sure I can adequately describe its rhapsody of flavors and textures. The pupusa itself is savory, its insides a cauldron of cheese and lard. Often the cheese will burst from its masa home as it cooks to crisp on the griddle. You’ll do well to save that bit for last.

Atop a pupusa perches a delightfully tangy salsa roja and, of course, the curtido — a slaw made of cabbage, onion, carrot, jalapeño and vinegar. Its bitterness helps edge the umami of the pupusa. If a pupusa were a piece of music it would be Chopin nocturne: deceptively complex, heartbreakingly beautiful, full of gastronomical trills.

It is not lost on me how many miles this meal has traveled to find a home in Northeast Oregon. According to Google Maps, El Salvador is well over 3,000 miles from Boardman — a simple gesture of love that has traversed thousands of miles. It is astonishing to think of all the events that had to occur for me and these women to live in the same place at the same time.

Recently, the women of El Salvadoreño gifted me an El Salvador blue shirt that reads “More Peace, More Love, More Pupusas.” Yes, I think to myself as I shovel another bite into my mouth, more to all of the above.

North Morrow County is an astounding amalgam of people and cultures. I am not sure there are many places in the Pacific Northwest quite like it. The aforementioned women are just one example of those quietly toiling out here, doing their part to enrich, amplify, and love. Whether they are flattening pupusas, milking cows, manejando camiones (driving trucks), making antojitos, grilling hash browns, grinding espresso, bagging groceries, teaching math or coaching soccer, these working people are dedicated to their families and community. It’s a place not unlike a pupusa. A concert of flavors coming together to make something sabroso. Something simple and beautiful.

So as its surroundings morph and change, this little taco truck remains a steadfast beacon and a gentle reminder to proceed with caution. The pupusa isn’t a golf course, it’s not a giant, illuminated concrete bunker that collects all our data to sell us more stuff we don’t need, nor is it an electrical substation. It’s a simple dish from a Central American country thousands of miles away. They feed us, nourish us.

It does these things far from their origin by women who dish them up with power those who we traditionally think of as “being in power” could only dream of.

Viva la pupusa.