“How can you even believe that?” Juan said with an ironic smile. “How could sancocho ever be better than ajiaco?”
Alejandra shot back with a playful, almost familiar shout:
“Of course it is!”
They were walking along Seventh Avenue toward Plaza de Bolívar. With all the noise around them, it was hard to hear each other, but both were convinced of their side. Alejandra was from the coast; Juan, a true Bogotá native.
The blazing sun made them stop for a moment to take some photos. Between laughs, they sealed a bet: whichever soup tasted better would win, and the loser would pay the bill. They knew that on 11th Street, just a block from the Cathedral, there was a restaurant famous for serving the best versions of both dishes.
With beers in hand and the camera still warm from snapping pictures, they kept walking, each defending their soup as if it were a national treasure.
“Ajiaco is unique,” Juan insisted. “The capers give it an unmatched touch. It’s like having five soups in one: with cream it tastes one way, with avocado another, and with rice… more Colombian than that? Impossible.”
Alejandra, barely pausing for breath, countered:
“Please! The bone in sancocho is the best protein. And that hearty thickness from plantain, potato, yuca, and arracacha… that kind of power ajiaco will never have.”
Once seated, they waited for their dishes with the anxious excitement of a final showdown. When the soups arrived, they dove right in: each with their own bowl, but quickly crossing spoons, tasting and comparing, exaggerating their reactions like judges in an improvised competition.
Between laughter and playful remarks, the bet slowly dissolved. Without realizing it, they ended up enjoying both soups, sharing more than just a table—sharing a discovery.
From the terrace of that old republican house, they sometimes gazed at the Plaza, other times at the mountains. With beers raised high, they toasted the feast. They were no longer rivals defending soups: they were a newly found pair, bound together by a deeper sense of Colombian identity.
By Fredy Calderón
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