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Pretty Good Peruvian Food

Dark and woodsy, with huge plate glass windows and vintage movies streaming across the back wall, Qusqo looks like a neighborhood coffee shop for artsy Westsiders.

When you consider that it celebrates happy hour, offers sandwiches for lunch and presents itself as a  “bistro & gallery, ” you are all the more certain that it is just another gathering spot for the young and trendy.

It is, indeed, all of these things. But it is something more that is not apparent from a quick glance passing by. Quzqo is a full-fledged Peruvian restaurant.

The name is a quirky spelling of Cusco, the jumping off point for Machu Picchu.  Perhaps it’s a bid for attention, switching restaurant names around so that they spell the sams thing in a different way, like Wahaca (Oaxaca) in London and Wakatay (Huacatay), a Peruvian-Japanese restaurant in Gardena.

Qusqo has some very good dishes, others that miss the mark. Such failings often occur at restaurants outside Peru, because ingredients are not the same or are not available.

Qusqo's ceviche is one example. It’s well presented and includes the right garnishes—steamed giant corn kernels, crisp golden corn, red onion strands and sliced sweet potato. But the firm, chewy cubes of halibut used the night I was there were wrong for this dish. Lima’s seafood is glorious. It’s hard to match that standard here, but more tender fish would have been better.

On the other hand, chupe de camaron (shrimp chowder) was delicious, packed with large, juicy shrimp in a pleasant broth, better than the last version I had  in Lima.

Aji de gallina, shredded chicken in a subtle, smooth walnut sauce is worth ordering. So is giant corn on the cob in cheese sauce, even though the only such corn available here is frozen. 

American potatoes are different in moisture content and texture from Peruvian potatoes, and this creates a problem for causa, a stacked cake that layers golden moist potato puree with seafood or chicken filling and avocado.  At Quzqo, thin potato cakes replace the soft puree. But the real problem was the canned tuna filling in my serving, a harsh and alien flavor for causa.

The meat for lomo saltado (stir-fried beef), listed under chifa  (Chinese style dishes), was tough, but I’m not so sure I wouldn’t find it that way in Peru. The soggy French fries in this dish are not a mistake. Peruvians mix them with the meat instead of serving them on the side.

Qusqo’s owner is Lucy Haro, a young, American-born Peruvian,  who bases her dishes on family recipes.

Her alfajores (dulce de leche sandwich cookies) are exceptional.  I’ve eaten many alfajores in Peru and Argentina, but never any like Haro’s tender, buttery cookies. They’re sandwiched with delicate dulce de leche made at the restaurant, not the heavily sweetened commercial product. A single cookie comes in a bowl of ice cream with an orchid and a wooden spoon.

Qusqo has enough good dishes to make eating there worthwhile now. With a little more work, it could become one of the better Peruvian restaurants in Los Angeles.

Qusqo, 11633 Santa Monca Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90025. Tel: (310) 312-3800. Lunch 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. Monday through Friday, Dinner, 5:30 to 9 p.m. Monday, to 10 p.m., Tuesday through Thursday, to 10:30 p.m. Friday and Saturday. Closed Sunday. 
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The Corner You Ought to Know

Black slaves came to Peru with the first Spanish explorers, and their numbers grew as wealthy Spaniards took up a luxurious way of life in the new colony.

The slaves were excellent cooks and contributed substantially to Peru’s unique Creole cuisine. Blacks are still regarded as among the country’s finest cooks, which is a good reason to go to a restaurant in Lima called El Rincon que no Conoces.

The proprietor is a black woman, Teresa Izquierdo Gonzales. In 1978, Izquierdo opened a modest sweet shop. As she added more substantial fare, the sweet shop expanded into a restaurant. Today, it is a top destination for Creole cuisine.

The name means “the corner you don’t know.”  But the restaurant, which is located in the district of Lince, is far from unknown. On Wednesdays, when a Creole buffet replaces the regular menu, the tables are full. 

As you enter, the restaurant appears deserted. Stairs at the back lead to the airy second-floor room where the buffet takes place.

The first time I went, friends introduced me to Izquierdo, a portly woman who walks with a cane. That day, the food, served from heavy earthen pots, included olluquito (an Andean potato) with dried llama meat; cilantro rice with duck breast; fish escabeche with panca chile sauce; stuffed peppers and potatoes; yellow chiles filled with tuna; carapulca, which is a combination of dried potatoes, pork and chicken; frejoles, spelled with an initial e in Peru, and many other dishes.

Unfortunately, I was under the weather that day and could eat only with my eyes. The next time, I made up for that with plate after plate of delicious food.

Highlights included ocopa (potato) with a sauce of peanuts, chile, and a mint-like herb called huacatay; a stuffed red rocoto pepper; marinated pig’s feet, dried potatoes with an interesting smoky taste; turkey pipian with rice; the beef dish seco de carne, the traditional chicken dish, aji de gallina; spicy tacu tacu, which is a combination of beans and rice browned in a skillet, and creamy canario beans spiked with chile.

The starters included causa looking like a jellyroll dressed up for a party. The yellow “cake” layer composed of mashed potatoes enclosed chicken filling.

As I sat down, I was brought a plate of what I thought were two small dinner rolls. These turned out to be light, tender empanadas filled with beef.

A pisco sour comes with the buffet, and you can order additional drinks such as cinnamon-scented chicha morada, the  purple corn drink, which goes well with highly seasoned food.

El Rincon’s desserts include rice pudding, mazamorra morada, which is a sweet, purple corn porridge, and suspiro de limena, topped with meringue as thick and rich as the pudding beneath it.   

These are excellent, but the one not to miss is picaron, a bunuelo-like deep-fried pastry  accompanied by  rich, dark syrup made with chancaca, which is unrefined sugar. Although the yeast dough contains squash and sweet potato, it is amazingly light.

Black cooks are known for their skill with picarones, which require deft handwork. The hole in the center has to be formed as each portion of dough is swirled into the hot oil.

If you are not in Lima on a Wednesday, go to El Rincon anyway. The regular menu offers a wide choice of Creole dishes, and there are specials each day, all cooked to Izquierdo's fine taste.

El Rincon que no Conoces, Bernardo Alcedo 363, Lince, Lima, Peru.  Tel: 471-2171.The restaurant is open for lunch only. The Creole buffet takes place each Wednesday.

All You Can Eat--and More

If I had only a couple of days in Lima and wanted to taste as great a variety of Peruvian food as possible, I would go to El Senorio de Sulco.

There, in one gigantic meal, I can eat everything from ceviche and tiradito (like sashimi) to a whole spread of Peruvian desserts, with a pisco sour thrown in and also a chicha morada, a sweet, purple corn drink with a haunting flavor of spices and fruit.

Rustic and charming, with handpainted chairs, a tile floor and gleaming, richly painted wooden chargers, the restaurant looks out toward the sea. It’s a nice place to spend a couple of hours, and if you can get through the massive buffet in that amount of time, you deserve my congratulations. I’ve never managed to try every dish.

Still, on this last trip, I  tucked away potato salad with smoked trout, ceviche composed as I watched of shrimp, scallops, squid, octopus, fish and all manner of garnishes; tender scallops presented on Chinese spoons; octopus in olive oil with olive sauce; corvina tiradito in a yellow chile sauce; cold fried fish in sweet yellow escabeche; a salad of fresh limas, broad beans, giant corn kernels  and fresh cheese; mashed potato with nutty-tasting ocopa sauce, and causa, a cold mashed potato mixture layered with chicken.  And these were only starters.

Moving along the buffet, there were Arequipa-style stuffed red peppers; lomo saltado (stir-fried beef with soy sauce and potatoes); seco de carne (beef with cilantro); charqui (jerky) cooked with a tuber called olluquito; aji de gallina (chicken in a creamy cheese and chile sauce); hot fish escabeche, and, well, you get the idea.

My favorites that day were glistening, dark, caramelized chunks of pork in algarrobina sauce (carob), and Trujillo style arroz con pollo (chicken with rice) that tasted like spicy paella.

Desserts were just as abundant. This time, I found a splendid flan moreno, a dusky flan topped with a syrupy mixture of raisins, chopped nuts and thin strips of candied orange peel. Of course I had to have a tres leches cake made with lucuma and a semifreddo of lucuma and chocolate.

Great wheels that looked like coiled tape were ponderaciones, a fried pastry accompanied by caramel-like manjar blanco. After that, I  even managed a petit four from a loaded tray, meanwhile working on marzamora, a dark, gelatinous purple pudding with fruit, and a heavenly suspiro de limena, a super sweet pudding and meringue concoction.

I should have gone away satisfied, but I’m still sad over having passed up a banana toffee semifreddo. I can’t believe I was too full to try that.

El Senorio de Sulco, Malecon Cisneros 1470, Miraflores, Lima, Peru. Tel: 441-0183. Buffet daily from 12:30 to 4:30 p.m. 

A Kiss at a Tavern in Peru

I got kissed the first time I went to Antigua Taberna Queirolo. That’s what happens when people are having a jolly time, well lubricated with Peru’s grape alcohol, pisco.

Queirolo is a large pisco producer, so there is plenty on hand at  this 19th century tavern, said to be the oldest restaurant in Peru. Good bar food too. Very good. So I go there whenever I am in Lima.

About that kiss: It was quite chivalrous, delivered with a charming compliment by a gentleman at the next table who was celebrating rather enthusiastically with friends.

The tavern is charming too, a small corner of Lima’s past in a district called Pueblo Libre. Windows with old fashioned wooden bars are set high in thick walls. Ceiling fans whir when it’s warm, and vintage photos line the rooms.

Serious drinkers order pisco by the bottle along with mixers and ice. This last time, I had a chilcano de pisco, a tall drink of pisco, ginger ale, lime juice and sugar syrup.

Along with classic pisco sours, there is a masco sour made with pisco that has been macerated with Chilean plums.

The food is traditional, like the bar. I usually get a rocoto relleno, a mildly spicy red pepper stuffed with hand-cut beef, olives, raisins, hardboiled egg and melted cheese. Or I’ll have the same filling in a plump golden potato croquette—papa rellena.

There are sandwiches and also tamales, which came to Peru from Mexico. My tamal criollo contained a shred of chicken, an olive and peanut halves in a fine smooth yellow dough, with spicy marinated red onions on the side.

The tavern is at one corner of a large building that houses Queirolo offices and a sales counter for piscos and wines. Around the far corner is El Bolivariano, a  restaurant with a full menu, a bar and, on Sunday, a Creole buffet.

Although the menu there was tempting, all I could manage after lunch at the taberna was coffee and dessert, well, two desserts—the rich custard suspiro limena, topped with whipped cream, a cherry and a cinnamon stick, and arroz zambito, a dusky rice pudding made with chancaca, an unrefined sugar similar to Mexican piloncillo, pecans and a sprinkling of shredded coconut.

Antigua Taberna Queirolo, Avenida San Martin 1090, Pueblo Libre, Lima, Peru. Tel: 460-0441.

El Bolivariano, Pasaje Santa Rosa 291, Pueblo Libre, Lima, Peru. Tel: 463-6333.

Oztia: Sacred Food in Peru

I felt like getting on my knees as I walked into Oztia. According to the sign outside, this restaurant is devoted to sagrada cocina (sacred cookery). Inside, the temple was empty. Serious dining in Lima begins well after 9 p.m. And I was an hour early. That meant plenty of attention as I pondered what to order.

The pisco sour was definitely profane, made with coca leaves steeped in pisco. Yes, the very same leaves that are processed for cocaine. Not to worry. Coca leaves in small quantities are quite innocent. You can even buy coca leaf teabags at supermarkets in Lima.

At any rate, the leaves gave a faint herbal flavor to the pisco sour, making it the most interesting version that I had this trip.

While I sipped, the waiter brought a plate artfully drizzled with extra virgin olive oil, splashed with balsamic vinegar and ornamented with a red pool of tiny sauco fruit (elderberries) to go with my bread.

Next came cubes of ricotta wrapped in grilled eggplant slices with a red pepper sauce. And I hadn’t even ordered yet.

I decided on a fusion dish, langostinos (large shrimp), in a mango curry sauce braised in mint oil and accompanied by Thai rice.  I liked the shrimp very much. The sauce was slightly sweet and slighty spicy with an almost caramel flavor.

What made the rice Thai, I have no idea.  Bits of peach were mixed in, and a trace of green appeared at the bottom. That must have been the mint oil. The top was sprinkled with crisp white noodles and black sesame seeds. I have never seen anything like it in a Thai restaurant, but that’s what fusion is about.

Dessert had its own appetizer course, guargueros rellenos con manjar blanco, or tiny pastry cones filled with milk caramel and sprinkled with cocoa powder. This wasn’t fusion, but a traditional Peruvian pastry in miniature.

Then came  the holy part of the meal, lucuma tiramisu, on a plate reverently decorated with a  spider-thin cross made of powdered cinnamon.

Paola Cubas is Oztia’s chef and, it appears, a woman of faith as well as an accomplished cook.

Oztia, Bolognesi 143, Miraflores, Lima, Peru. Tel: 243-6513.   

A Sunny Day at Segundo Muelle

It was cold, dank and gloomy in Lima this spring. By spring I mean October, because the seasons there are the opposite of those in the northern hemisphere.

One day, the sun peeked dimly through the overcast, and that brought throngs of strollers to the park that lines the bluffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Some even stripped down to thin shirts to catch the rare warmth.

Others braved the open air section of Segundo Muelle, the seafood restaurant where I had managed to snag a window table on the second floor, high enough to look out toward the ocean even though I couldn’t really see it.

Despite the sun, it was cool enough to start with a bracing hot soup, chilcano de corvina. This was as simple as if a fisherman had put it together for lunch on his boat--just very fresh fish in well-seasoned broth laced with chopped cilantro. And yet it couldn't have been more delicious. 

Segundo Muelle’s house special ceviche, chinguirito mixto, is in the style of Chiclayo in the north and very different from the average Lima ceviche. The spicy mixture combined chewy strips of dried guitarra fish, sliced octopus and black-shelled scallops—I had seen those at a seafood counter in the San Isidro Municipal Market and was anxious to try them.

Instead of the usual sweet potatoes, this ceviche came garnished with sticks of bland, pale yuca, corn kernels and chifles, which are thin-cut banana chips.

Ordering is easy at Segundo Muelle. All you have to do is study the glossy picture menus.  The dessert photos are especially impressive. I picked out crocante de lucuma, a tart similar to pumpkin pie only made with the local fruit lucuma. The crust was crunchy and sweet, and on top were chopped toasted nuts, a thin layer of chocolate and whipped cream.

Even if the sun had not come out, this luscious dessert would have brightened my day.

Segundo Muelle, Avenida Malecon Cisneros 156, Miraflores, Lima, Peru. Tel: 241-5040.

Lima's Best Ceviche? Maybe Not

Alfredo Aramburu Picasso is one of Lima’s star chefs, and so I expected a lot from his restaurant Alfresco, especially because its ceviche had been named the best in Lima (the menu didn’t say when or by whom).

A mixture of shrimp and sole in a pale orange sauce with a nice tang and a hint of spiciness, the ceviche was good but no better than others I tasted, and it was skimpy on the sweet potato and corn kernels that traditionally accompany this dish in Peru.   

Aramburu’s book, “Alfredo Aramburu,” published by the newspaper El Comercio as part of its great chefs series, contains a recipe for cebiche de camarones al wok (wok-cooked shrimp ceviche) that sounded so interesting I went back to try it, but the dish fell short. The sauce lacked character, and the tiny shrimp did not resemble the photo in the book.

Furthermore, the two small slices of French bread that I was given were dry, as if they  had been sitting out for hours. And the coffee shop-style plastic butter container didn’t suit a restaurant of this level.

Still, the pisco sours were good, the glass-enclosed dining room is attractive, and the wait staff is pleasant. The restaurant just needs more attention from Aramburu.

Alfresco, Malecon Balta 790, Miraflores, Lima, Peru. Tel: 242-8960.

It's a Sin to Eat Here

Add one letter to pecados capitales (capital sins) and you have Pescados Capitales, in my opinion one of Lima’s best seafood restaurants (pescados is plural for fish).

This play on words runs throughout the menu, which categorizes dishes according to sins and virtues. Such cute ploys often mask uninspired food, but not here. 

Pescados Capitales backs up good food with a large, attentive wait staff and dining spaces as airy and fresh as if they were beside the sea. In actuality, the Pacific Ocean is just a few blocks away.

Acknowledging that classic ceviche (often spelled cebiche in Peru) consists of only fish, lime juice, red onion and chile, the restaurant veers off into all sorts of variations.

On my first visit, I checked out an original sin, Cebiche Capital 3. As is obvious, it plays up the number three—three types of fish (sole, salmon and tuna), three types of onion and three types of chile.

Spicy and acidic, it comes topped with a slice of hot red rocoto chile, looking innocently like sweet red pepper, and a tangle of feathery seaweed. The usual sweet potato and fresh giant corn kernels are on the side. These seem as essential to ceviche in Peru as seafood.

The next time, I switched to a virtue, patience, and ordered Cebiche Gandhi--fish, shrimp and squid in a curry sauce with mango chutney, peaches and mandarin orange sections. Potentially weird, it turned out to be quite good.  Even my curry-loving friends in Singapore would have approved of the delicious blend of curry flavors, sweetness, lime and flecks of hot red chile and cilantro in the sauce.

Dessert that day was a whipped cherimoya mousse set on a crunchy praline crust, topped with tiny cherimoya dice. The glass dish holding the mousse was presented in a black bowl filled with ice, as if it were swimming in an icy sea.

I’m sorry I missed out on a lucuma tart topped with chocolate. But I did have a tall glass of vibrant yellow fresh lucuma juice—lucuma is a golden-fleshed fruit that is common in Peru and Chile. And another time, I indulged in a gorgeous, lucuma-flavored rendition of suspiro de limena, a pudding and meringue concoction that is one of Peru’s most popular desserts.

The pisco sours are fine, and the restaurant sends out a little plate of silky fresh scallops in tomato sauce to start off lunch.

Pescados Capitales is located on Avenida La Mar, a stretch of auto repair shops, hardware stores, glass cutters and such that has become a trendy place to eat. The restaurant gets very crowded, but arriving shortly after it opens at 12:30 p.m. will avoid a wait for a table.

Pescados Capitales, Avenida La Mar 1337, Miraflores, Lima, Peru. Tel: 421-8808.

Delfino Mar: Almost Like Veracruz

Delfino Mar, a seafood restaurant near the coast of Lima, makes me think of Boca Del Rio. That heavily touristed resort town outside the city of Veracruz was once nothing but dirt roads and a couple of wonderful, open-air seafood restaurants.

Delfino Mar like is like those places—small, casual and breezy, looking oddly out of place tucked up against  modern apartment buildings. Like most of Lima’s seafood restaurants, it opens only for lunch, which continues to 5 p.m.

Each time I go, I order the same thing--ronda tres sabores, a plate of three classic Peruvian seafood dishes. These are tiradito, sliced raw senorita fish in a brilliant yellow sauce made with aji amarillo, a chile that is yellow  (amarillo) in name only; causa, a silky  potato mixture as yellow as the tiradito wrapped around crab, and, my favorite, octopus marinated with nutty- tasting olive oil and accompanied by tangy olive mayonnaise.

Just as Veracruz has its vuelve a la vida (come back to life) seafood cocktail,  Delfino Mar has caldo levanta muerto, raise the dead soup, a  fish soup with a bony hand clawing at  the bowl—just crab claws, nothing scary.

Many Lima restaurants serve only roasted corn with drinks, but Delfino Mar provides bread to eat with a delicious warm tomato sauce that contains chopped squid and actopus. The pisco sours come either seco (dry) or demi seco (sweet). 

I’ve had a delightful lucuma mousse for dessert, set on a chocolate-mint base and striped with chocolate. But really, it’s the seafood that counts here.

Delfino Mar, Jorge Chavez 509, Miraflores, Lima, Peru; Tel: 445-3470.

La Gloria: Lima's Finest?

Go to La Gloria if you want to dine with the swells of Lima. It’s a cozy place, not austere and imposing, as you might expect from an ambitious, high-ticket restaurant. 

The flowery menu  lets you know the food is delicious rather than letting you judge for yourself. It’s smart to order from the seafood section, because Lima’s fresh seafood is so good.  There are also meats, pasta, rice, salads and nightly specials.

Grilled tuna perfumed with aromas of eucalyptus from the mountains intrigued me, but the description had more flavor than the fish. I simply couldn’t detect an aroma of eucalyptus. Nevertheless, the tuna was cooked just as I asked (termino medio, half cooked rather than raw).  The salad on the side included only a shred or two of the promised grilled baby onions.

The standout was the dessert, delicia de chirimoya, a pillar composed of crumbly, rich chocolate brownie topped with diced fresh cherimoya and capped with cherimoya foam.  More fresh cherimoya and cherimoya sorbet were on the side along with spun sugar grillwork.

The butterscotch and pisco sauce sounded marvelous. Alas, it was confined to thin swirls on the plate, not enough to taste. But then chefly restraint is typical of restaurants of this caliber.

La Gloria has a superb list of piscos by the glass, categorized by brand and grape variety. Huarangal’s quebranta pisco went into my pisco sour, which was the smallest I had during a week in Lima and thin tasting—the sweet and sour balance was off.

Oh well, in pricey, top-of-the-line restaurants, less is more, but not when it comes to my pisco sour, thank you.

La Gloria Restaurant, Calle Atahualpa 201, Miraflores, Lima, Peru. Tel: 445-5705.