Often overlooked, the Ecuadorian food diaspora is raising its own profile

As an Ecuadorian writer who has consumed American food media for years, it has always surprised me how this vibrant and textured cuisine has yet to have its moment in the spotlight. Dishes like green plantain empanadas filled with melty queso fresco and ceviche Jipijapa bathed in a silky peanut and citrus sauce are just sitting there, ready to go viral. But even as other Latin American cuisines have become popular in the United States, Ecuadorian food has remained consistently overlooked.

There have been important moments of recognition, especially in the early 2000s. Lauded food critic Jonathan Gold explored the Ecuadorian llapingacho stands selling mashed potato fritters along Los Angeles’ Pico Boulevard for his restaurant column in the Los Angeles Times in 1998, where he often revealed the understated kitchens of LA’s immigrant communities. In Kitchen Confidential, Anthony Bourdain famously said that the sharpest line cooks in New York were Ecuadorians. Throughout the book, he refers to their skill and work ethic while recalling his years as a chef at the French restaurant Les Halles. With the praise of two media heavyweights, you’d think the story would have expanded. But the truth is Ecuadorian cuisine still doesn’t live on magazine covers.

Writer Nicholas Gill, whose newsletter New Worlder and reporting across major food publications have made him one of the sharper observers of the cuisines of the Americas, puts it plainly:  “Ecuadorian cooks are the backbone of the American restaurant industry, but Ecuadorian food itself is missing in that scene. We are hoping this will change.”

While the US is home to the largest Ecuadorian community outside of Ecuador, larger than Peruvian or Argentinian and the same size as Venezuelan, their own food traditions have barely scratched the surface of American mainstream culture. And yet, this cuisine is incredibly diverse and full of personality, rooted in the food traditions of Indigenous peoples from the Andes, the Amazon, and the Pacific Coast—and further shaped by Spanish colonization, the enslaved Africans who were brought to Ecuador, and global trade with Asia and Europe.

The result is a deeply regional cuisine with enormous variety. On the Pacific Coast, seafood, plantains, peanuts and coconut are celebrated in abundance. Distinct styles of ceviche sit alongside aromatic coconut seafood stews and mashed fried green plantain balls with fresh cheese and chicharrón. In the Andes, pork, corn and potatoes are king. Hornado, a whole roasted pig with a crackly skin, is served with creamy llapingachos, an orange tomato dressing, fried ripe plantains for sweetness, avocado slices and hominy to clean the palate, along with a tamarillo and lupini beans chili sauce for heat. “When discussing Ecuadorian food, there isn’t one single dish that everyone thinks of yet, like Venezuelan arepas or Peruvian ceviche, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” says Gill. “The cuisine is so diverse, so particular, so regional, so specific to place that it’s hard to encapsulate.”

In the Amazon, the food is simpler but still delicious, river fish and yuca are often wrapped in banana leaves, grilled and served with chilies and native produce like garabato yuyo sprouts or grilled macambo seeds. This region is also the birthplace of cacao, and holds the most genetic diversity of cacao in the world, which has turned the country into a global leader of fine aroma chocolate production.

Over the past five decades, close to one million Ecuadorians have made their lives in the US, arriving in three waves driven by economic and political crisis, and more recently, due to rising insecurity in the country. Many concentrated in the New York tri-state area, while others settled in places like Miami, Chicago, Los Angeles, Minneapolis, and Houston. Those who arrived undocumented survived by keeping cultural expression out of public view and assimilating into American life. At the same time, Ecuadorians became essential to the American workforce, especially in restaurant kitchens, food production and agriculture.

“At work is where I’ve been able to connect with the Ecuadorian community in NY,” says chef Michelle Proaño of Le Coucou restaurant, who has previously worked the kitchens of places like Café Carmellini, Chef’s Table at Brooklyn Fare and Gabriel Kreuther. “There are just so many of us.”

While Ecuadorians helped feed the country, their own cuisine has remained confined to their homes, within close-knit community gatherings and in small restaurants or informal street food stands that mostly served other Ecuadorians. But lately, a new generation of immigrants has begun to claim space more publicly through social media, restaurants, and cookbooks.

One of the few writers helping bring it to a broader American audience is Kiera Wright-Ruiz. Her 2025 cookbook My (Half) Latinx Kitchen reflects on growing up Ecuadorian and Korean, exploring flavors passed down by her Ecuadorian grandfather and her take on iconic Ecuadorian dishes, like seco de pollo with naranjilla and beer, ceviche de camarón with lime, orange and ketchup, or her vegan guatita with a creamy peanut sauce and mushrooms.

“Throughout my life in the US, whenever I would tell someone I’m half Ecuadorian, the most common response was: “What is that?”, says Kiera. That same question now shapes the work of Alejandra Espinoza, an Ecuadorian chef determined to bring this cuisine to a wider American audience. After opening her contemporary Ecuadorian restaurant Somos, in Quito, in 2019, she and her family moved to Miami in 2023. In less than three years, she opened two restaurants there, Cotoa, an Ecuadorian fine dining restaurant, which is now Michelin Selected, and Cotoita, a casual fast food concept. She is currently preparing to open an Ecuadorian bakery, called Ishpingo, and to expand Cotoa into a larger location.

At first, Espinoza says there was little interest in her Miami restaurants because diners didn’t even know where Ecuador was, or what kind of food to expect. But over time, the cuisine’s distinct flavors set it apart. “Our food is very colorful, with flavors and textures that stand out from other cultures in Miami. When customers try it, they realize our cuisine is unique. It is not the same as Colombian, Peruvian or Venezuelan food”, says Espinoza, “Now I have a diverse set of clientele, from all nationalities. We bring all of Miami together.” With that base established, she’s encouraged to expand the menu into more unconventional territory. “Recently I made guinea pig dumplings, and I could do it because customers now understand us and give us a chance. They trust us after having tried simpler dishes first, like our Jipijapa peanut ceviche”.

Building a relationship with diners is key for other Ecuadorian restaurants trying to expand their customers beyond the existing community. Fernando Cando, chef and owner of Leticia’s, in Corona, Queens, found an unexpected way in: tacos.

“There are many Ecuadorian restaurants in Queens, but they are very home-style,” Cando says. “I saw an opportunity to present our food in a creative way and promote it not only to Ecuadorians but also to an international audience. I created a section of the menu with tacos, which are friendly for foreigners and easy to eat, with fillings from Ecuadorian dishes like hornado, tripa mishqui or guatita, introducing them as small bites instead of having people order a large main dish.” While Cando’s tacos aren’t among the most ordered items on his menu now, he believes they have helped engage with new customers as a stepping stone for them to try a fully authentic dish later. These kinds of approaches are what eventually led Pete Wells to visit Leticia’s and write a review for The New York Times, giving it a critic’s pick.

For the Ecuadorian community in New York City, street vendors selling warm cups of morocho and empanadas alongside weekend soccer and volley canchas remain essential ways of maintaining community. But as ICE’s mass deportation campaign deeply impacts the Ecuadorian diaspora, these practices are shifting. Sonia Guiñansaca, an Ecuadorian-born indigenous Kichwa-Kañari poet and cultural strategist, grew up in Harlem going to these kinds of spaces to connect with their culture. “Now in places that are really getting hit by ICE raids, there’s a fear of going out”, says Guiñansaca, “If you’re the owner of an Ecuadorian restaurant, maintaining it open is hard. If this was three years ago, it would be different. I’m sure people are trying their best to maintain their connection to their homeland through food but it will be staying inside, safe and protected from ICE”.

From working in the food industry as unseen labor to sharing their culture only within close community networks, there are plenty of reasons why Ecuadorian food has remained relatively lowkey in the United States. Even the role of a food media landscape that has historically favored only a narrow range of Latin American cuisines, along with limited efforts from the Ecuadorian government to promote the country’s culinary identity abroad have reinforced this cuisine’s quiet presence.

And still, there are countless voices like Sonia’s, Alenandra’s, Fernando’s and Kiera’s. Across New York, Miami, and beyond, Ecuadorian writers, cooks and families are building a culinary landscape of their own. Even far from the spotlight, Ecuadorian cuisine continues to be a place of joy, refuge and resistance and it’s becoming more visible as people start to take control of its representation.

As Ecuadorian Americans step forward, the question is no longer whether the cuisine is worthy of attention. It is whether the rest of the world is ready to recognize what has been there all along.