Little bowls have small uses, as large bowls have large uses, or so a Korean proverb goes. Sometimes a little, unpretentious restaurant can be as impressive in its own way as a fancy place with linen napkins and a sharply dressed waitstaff. El Tamarindo, a little restaurant in the wilds of Pawtucket, is quite charming. Not charming in a studied way; not some quaint Hispanic equivalent of a Belgian waffle shop with lace curtains. No, I was charmed, apart from its friendly atmosphere, mainly by the no-nonsense approach toward encouraging second visits: give the customers what they want, cheaply, and make it delicious. What a concept.

There are fewer than 20 items on the menu, besides desserts and drinks. Although this is a Mexican restaurant, the sister and brother who run it are from El Salvador. Their give-them-what-they-want policy extends to offering kids’ food, so junior doesn’t have to poke around the refried beans on his plate when all he wanted was a pizza. That particular problem is solved as directly as possible — with a "pizza grande." Just one size and combination: $11.95 with the works, from pepperoni and sausage to mushrooms and veggies, something for everyone. Junior can also have a platter with fries and a burger ($6.99), or chicken fingers ($5.95).

You get the picture. Daisy Alvarado is in the kitchen, and when she places a plate on the order shelf, she’ll probably look up and smile at you as readily as she did at us. Her brother, Carlos Contreras, served us as amiably. I was going to say he was our waiter, but he was more like a host — to the extent that the credit card slips at El Tamarindo don’t have a line for a tip. (Don’t worry — we had little cash on hand, but left him a check.)

Open for a year, the restaurant still looks freshly scrubbed, from the wood-grain Formica tables to the knotty pine walls. The chairs aren’t the battered, mix-n-match sort you usually find in little places like this, but rather a black steel design that is attractive and practical. There’s McIlhenny Tabasco sauce on the tables alongside the Goya Salcita, so it’s clear they know their way around a chili pepper.

Two things signal this is not your customary Mexican restaurant — the El Salvador posters on the walls and the pupusas on the menu. (Another hint is the name of the place, which as well as referring to the tamarind tree, is the name of a popular beach in San Miguel Province.) The pupusas alone make it worth going out of your way to find this place, and not only because they are a ridiculously cheap $1.25 apiece. Technically, they are tortillas, saucer-size, but comprised of still-soft corn meal masa, grilled and flattened to a thin patty. We passed up the one filled with refritos, and tried one with spiced and shredded pork, and another with a kind of farmer’s cheese. The first was quite delicious, but the second was so tangy with the traditional queso fresco that if I could have only one, I would choose the latter, my carnivore credentials notwithstanding. Pupusas are the national snack of El Salvador, their hot dog, and nationalities have been changed for flimsier reasons. As here, they are usually served with a side of curtido, a Salvadoran cabbage and carrot slaw.

Other things were also pretty good. For an appetizer, we had a plate of fried plantains ($4), a favorite of Johnnie. These were riper than we’ve had, so though they didn’t reach banana sweetness, they were tastier than usual, even without the accompanying sour cream. Other starters include enchiladas ($3), empanadas ($2) and a fried yucca and pork combo ($5.25).

For a main course, fajitas ($9.95) sounded tempting, as did the carne asada ($9.99), grilled marinated beef. But I couldn’t pass up the camarones ($12.95). A half-dozen medium shrimp were nicely spiced under a well-garlicked salsa of tomatoes, bell pepper, and onions. Like most plates here, it was served with refried beans, white rice and pico de gallo, which is mainly chopped onions and tomatoes; I missed the cilantro and garlic in their version, though. Half a lime came with the dish, not just a dinky wedge. Johnnie had a chicken quesadilla ($7.50), a large half-moon cut into four pieces. It had a salad-worth of lettuce alongside a goodly amount of guacamole and sour cream, plus some of the curtido mentioned above.

Flan ($2) topped off the meal nicely. Firm, sweeter than some versions, but not too much so, it hit the spot as much as the rice-based horchata and the tamarind drink we’d had earlier. In case you haven’t noticed, we were glad to have discovered El Tamarindo.