Encebollado is Ecuador in a bowl — steaming, bright, a little chaotic, and built to bring you back to life whether you’ve spent the night fishing or the night drinking. It’s the country’s unofficial hangover cure, its coastal calling card, its culinary hug. At its core, it’s simple: albacore tuna simmered in a broth loaded with onions, tomatoes, cilantro, and whatever spices the cook trusts most. But like every great dish, the magic isn’t in the ingredients — it’s in the hands that make it.

The story starts on the coast, where fishermen rode out into the Pacific before dawn and came back salt-crusted, sun-beaten, and starving. Encebollado was born for them — a hot, restorative soup meant to warm you, fill you, and remind you that you’re still among the living. Fresh tuna went straight from the boat into the pot, mixed with vegetables pulled from local markets and a broth simmered long enough to taste like something between the sea and the earth.

It spread from the beaches inward, carried by travelers, truck drivers, students, and anyone else who needed a bowl of something real. Today you’ll find it everywhere — on street corners, in family kitchens, in coastal shacks with plastic chairs sinking into the sand. The flavors are bold, unapologetic, and comforting in that way only truly local food ever is.

Encebollado isn’t just soup. It’s coastal Ecuador’s love letter to the rest of the country — salty, nourishing, honest. A reminder that some of the best dishes in the world weren’t invented by chefs or crafted for tourists; they were built by people who worked the ocean, respected it, and knew exactly what to make with whatever came off the boat.

One spoonful and you get it — the history, the resilience, the warmth. This is Ecuador’s soul, simmered and served hot.