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When your Spanish is lousy, you fall back on this foolproof ordering technique: talking louder and slower in English. When that doesn’t work, it’s best to point, showcasing your unquestionable state of gringo-ness. That was me at La Reyna, where I watched everyone else in the room deftly order then chat away in Spanish. But hey, you gotta love authenticity, especially when it emerges on an otherwise boring weekday in the middle of the ’burbs.

Sometime back, La Reyna Latin Restaurant opened at the end of a dull strip mall near the intersection of Perkins and Siegen. Its hours were maddeningly inconsistent, but now the place seems to have settled into a predictable pattern, and it has built a loyal group of regulars. It’s a small spot, less than 10 tables. They’re crammed into an interior that’s been spruced up, sort of, by economical, mismatched décor. But its shtick is refreshing: homey fare from the places depicted in the posters on its walls, the countries of Central America.

This means, of course, that troughs of chips and salsa are out, as are other Tex-Mex signatures like mammoth dollops of sour cream and handfuls of shredded cheese. The meats are less likely to be tucked behind fried tortillas and more so to be served on their own, stewed or grilled.

One recent visit, I approached the door at lunchtime only to find a big “closed” sign in the window. Silhouettes inside triggered me to squint through the pane, and whaddya know, La Reyna was open. No one, except this fussy Yank, appeared particularly bothered by the signage gaffe, which may suggest something about both my blood pressure and the vibe inside.

That day, milk-infused fruit drinks in flavors like tamarind and guava were all the rage, as was the larger-than-life sopa de res, veggie beef soup served with marrow-filled bones, stubs of corn-on-the-cob and extra large zucchini hunks ($6.75). The soups come in small, medium and large, the latter of which ought to be called “tureen.”

The heat outside made us forego sopa, and we started instead with the satisfying Salvadoran pupusa, a grilled cornmeal pancake stuffed with tiny pieces of pork cracklings and topped with requisite curtido, or spicy onion relish ($2.50). We also sampled the meat pie-ish pastelitos, where ground meat, rice and potatoes have been sealed in a crescent cornmeal crust ($5.50). Both moist and flavorful, it was the jaw-jerking curtido and side of tangy picked red cabbage that really made these tender, grainy bundles sing.

The fish tacos, as Plain Jane as they appear, are outstanding. Soft flour tortillas hold flaky grilled fish, pungent chimol (pico de gallo’s cousin) and fresh lime juice ($8). Ditto for the similarly prepared taco asada ($8).

On another visit, we sampled the hearty guisado de puerco, a simple plateful of stewed pork chunks served in nicely flavored, savory juices ($7). The Honduran tacos, shredded beef-stuffed fried corn tortillas, were over-fried and chewy ($7). A better bet is the cheery tajadas de platano, a light and flavorful arrangement of fried plantains, ground beef, shredded cabbage, tomato and savory house sauce ($7). Most dishes are served with fluffy turmeric rice and refried beans topped with the baffling, but authentic, addition of powdered cheese.

I had my hopes set on a superlative version of tres leches, the traditional succulent white cake enhanced by three different milks, but the maraschino cherry-topped one here was mealy and disappointing. Arroz con leche, or rice “pudding,” is a better move, but don’t expect thick ’n’ creamy. It’s exactly what its name translates to—cooked rice combined with a good bit of hot, sweetened, cinnamon-infused milk.

The service at La Reyna, while pleasant, can be pokey. Go when you’re not rushed, and use it to your advantage. One needs time to mull over the two dozen menu items that range from the familiar—paella, chicken mole and tortilla soup—to things like whole pan-fried fish, enchiladas with a topping of sliced egg and beef adobo, rare finds in this hamlet.