When I booked the airfare for our recent vacation way back in September, I knew that we were going to play Easter Island dining by ear, but I intended to leave nothing to chance during our time in Santiago before and after. I made reservations at Boragó and Osaka the day a list of Latin America’s 50 Best Restaurants was released, showing those restaurants as #8 and #48, and the only two restaurants from Chile to make the list. And I booked a dinner at Astrid y Gaston, because we’d had a wonderful meal at the Lima branch during our Machu Picchu trip, and I wanted to be able to compare.

I’d made no dinner plans for our first night in Santiago, though, because I assumed we might be destroyed by our overnight flights and want to do nothing more than snack on street food (if that) and crash. But then Raul Esteban Yañez Campos, a food critic I’d made contact with during the search for food guides I already told you about, recommended Picada Ana María as his favorite restaurant for traditional Chilean cuisine. So we decided we needed to push our way through whatever exhaustion we were going to feel&#8212because, after all, when were we likely to get to Santiago again?—and had Raul make us a reservation.

The food—what we got of it—was delicious, but we didn’t get to try all we would have liked, partially due to the restaurant being out of certain recommended dishes, but also thanks to our embarrassingly poor grasp of Spanish.

When I asked Raul what we absolutely must eat while there, the first thing he mentioned was something called Table of Warm Sea (which I assumed would include Ana Maria’s sea urchins which others have raved about), followed by the deer, wild hare, and quail. Sadly, the restaurant was out of those latter meats, and as for the Table of Warm Sea, no matter how many times I asked for it in English or Spanish, I couldn’t make myself understood by the server.

Our failed attempts to communicate were taken with good nature by both sides, and our server took our cluelessness in stride, but at one point, after trying to make myself understood about sea urchins, he went back to the kitchen and returned bearing two raw steaks which he waved a hand over invitingly. My guess is that he’d decided we were cliched unadventurous tourists who’d be frightened off by typical Chilean dishes. The restaurant, off the beaten path, was not at all a tourist restaurant, but was filled with locals who were obviously regulars. Or at least it became filled while we were there—our reservation was at 9:00 p.m., late for us, but still on the early side for Chileans.

I was eventually able to get our server to understand that, yes, I really did want to eat pulpo—in fact, I ended up having octopus almost every day we were on vacation—and apologized as best as I could for coming to his country and not speaking his language. (In fact, one of the few things I do know how to say in Spanish is “Lo siento.”)

We started with the Octopus in Garlic, which was very tender, and very garlicky. (In a good way.) Good thing Irene dug in and enjoyed it, too, or else I’d have been hearing complaints about my breath all night!

For our main courses, since they were out of the venison and hare recommended by my friend, I ordered the Wild Boar in Ginger (my first boar, I believe, since Vienna’s Steirereck im Stadtpark) …

…while Irene went for the Pheasant in Pine Nuts.

We ordered a side of roasted potatoes, as well as a Chilean salad of tomatoes and onions (which we devoured too quickly for me to photograph).

There was a good, strong flavor to the boar, and the ginger complemented it well. Irene’s pheasant was tasty, too—we of course exchanged bites—but I was happy with my boar. And as you can see, there was plenty of it!

At some point while we were eating—I think just before the entrees arrived—our server brought over two bibs bearing the restaurant name and insisted we wear them and have our pictures taken. Thanks to the language barrier, I’m not entirely sure what that was all about. He didn’t do this for any of the other patrons, who as I said appeared to be all regulars, so I’m not sure whether this is a thing done for all new customers or just those who are obvious tourists. Regardless, there I am above.

Since I trusted I wouldn’t splatter my shirt with ginger sauce, I removed it once the photos were taken, hoping that my doffing wouldn’t offend.

As with the entrees, Ana Maria was out of many of the desserts, but we settled on ice cream meringue cake, which strangely, brought back memories of many a Carvel ice cream cake I ate as a child. That probably doesn’t sound like a compliment to you, but I enjoyed my nostalgia.

Of all the restaurants I visited in Santiago, this is the one I most want to revisit—though only in the company of a native and on a night when they’re not out of those intriguing entrees. I want to experience it at its best.

Plus I want a taste of that mysterious Table of Warm Sea!