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Ricardo Zarate's Peruvian Cuisine

Lucky students at ACE, the Academy of Culinary Education in Woodland Hills. They got to watch Peruvian chef Ricardo Zarate reveal just what makes his dishes so fabulous.

Cecilia de Castro, who heads ACE, snagged Zarate for a demo, which drew not just students but chefs and media fans who have followed Zarate since he arrived in Los Angeles in 2009. 

Starting with Mo-Chica in the Mercado La Paloma in downtown Los Angeles, Zarate opened a string of restaurants. The latest is Rosaliné in West Hollywood, a modern Peruvian bistro named for his mother.

You can also taste his food at Los Balcones in Studio City, where he consulted on the menu. He is also in Las Vegas and will open in New York. 

Energetic and loaded with enthusiasm, Zarate explained Peruvian ingredients including aji amarillo, panca pepper paste and aji limo. Aji, the word for chile in Peru, comes from the Quechua language, he said. 

And he told how quinoa, cultivated for centuries in Peru, was once scorned as food for poor people. Now it's trendy and valued for its healthful properties. 

The ceviche that he showed the students is nothing like Mexican ceviche. In Peru, ceviche is raw fish with sauce on top, Zarate said. The sauce is punchy, powerful leche de tigre, (tiger's milk), a mix of vegetables, lime juice and raw fish. 

Working quickly, Zarate pureed the sauce in a blender, adding ice to dilute the lime juice because it's spicier here than in Peru, he explained.

He then laid slices of yellowtail on a plate, topping each slice with a dab of garlic paste and a few drops of smoking hot sesame and olive oils. Next he added leche de tigre, then  finished the ceviche with crisp fried quinoa and micro greens. 

"Don't get me wrong, but it's the best," he said.

The other dish Zarate demonstrated was quinotto, which is quinoa influenced by risotto, a signature dish for him since Mo-Chica. The stock for this is made with vegetables and dried shiitake mushrooms.

Other quinotto components are butter, sour cream, white truffle oil, Parmesan, a mother sauce called aji aderezo and, for garnish, crispy quinoa and sautéed mushrooms. 

Peruvian cuisine is a lively mix of contributions from the Incas, Spain, Italy, China and Japan. Zarate's own cooking, and that of most Peruvian restaurants in the United States, is Japanese-influenced, he said. You can learn more from his book, "The Fire of Peru: Recipes and Stories from My Peruvian Kitchen."

This is the recipe for leche de tigre as it appears in the book:

LECHE DE TIGRE
Tiger's Milk
From "The Fire of Peru"

2 tablespoons roughly chopped firm white-fleshed fish, such as corvina, paiche, striped bass, yellowtail or halibut.
1 large or 2 small cloves garlic, quartered
1 (1/2-inch) piece fresh ginger, peeled and roughly chopped
1/4 large stalk celery (tender top end), thinly sliced, plus a few leaves, if you have them.
2 tablespoons roughly chopped red onion hearts (the cores) or red onions
3/4 cup fresh lime juice (from about 6 limes)
1 1/2 tablespoons kosher salt
About 5 small ice cubes

In a blender, combine the fish, garlic, ginger, celery, onions and a few tablespoons of the lime juice and puree until the ingredients are well combined.

With the blender running, add the salt, then very slowly pour in the remaining lime juice so the sauce emulsifies.With the blender still running, add the ice cubes a few at a time until the sauce is smooth and frothy. 

Use immediately, or refrigerate up to 1 hour, or 2 hours if you really insist.

Makes about 1 cup. 

Paiche Presents Peruvian Small Plates

The seco sauce on Paiche's tamalito verde (above) was so good, and the corn dough so tender, that I wanted to keep on eating. But I couldn't, because I had to share the single small tamal with a friend.   

We were eating at a trial-run dinner before the restaurant opens officially tomorrow. Located In Marina del Rey, Paiche is the latest gig for Peruvian chef Ricardo Zarate and partner Stephane Bombet. It's a small plates place, which means minimalist servings at non-minimalist prices. Be prepared to pay well for what you eat. The single tamal was $14.

The seco sauce, made with pureed cilantro, appears again in seco de paiche (above). Paiche is the Peruvian fish for which the restaurant is named. The small slice of fish sits on a stack of rice and beans.

To taste paiche in a more pure state, order it as tiradito (above). The thinly sliced fish is splashed with tamari and aji amarillo lemon vinaigrette (aji amarillo is Peru's yellow chile). A spoonful of sweet potato mousse sits on on the center slice under the decoration. 

Paiche plays with Peruvian traditions, making tiradito with seared Wagyu beef (above) and adding Parmesan sauce along with an aji amarillo vinagrette. Even though it has a touch of black truffle, the Wagyu is a bargain at $12 compared to the $14 tamal. 

The frituras (fried things) include uni shrimp toast, a wad of sea urchin sprawled over buttery tasting fried bread topped with diced tomatoes. The shrimp paste spread over the bread is so delicate, it's hard to detect. That's rocoto honey sauce on top. Rocoto is another Peruvian chile.

In Peru, Chinese fried rice is as popular as hamburgers or macaroni and cheese are here.  Paiche's version (above) includes mixed seafood, according to the menu. However, the name of the dish, chaufa de langosta, means lobster fried rice. That makes it more luxurious than what you usually get in Peru. 

The restaurant was jammed for the practice dinners, so the kitchen was under a lot of pressure. That might explain why the churros (above) weren't fried through, or else they were supposed to have soft centers. The crocks on the plate hold lúcuma and chocolate sauces. Not available fresh here, lúcuma is a fruit common in Peru and Chile. 

Somehow, Paiche has managed to get all its food, cocktails, wines and beers onto a single double-sided menu. That means very small print for the wines and beers, because there are a lot of them. Hint: Take along a magnifying glass.

Paiche, 13488 Maxella Ave., Marina del Rey, CA 90292. Tel: (310) 893-6100.

Picca--What Did I Eat?

Twenty dishes and five desserts shared by seven people, plus double orders that added up to even more food. It was a frenetic experience but still fun, passing, sharing and judging dishes based on a scrap here and a spoonful there.

This was dinner at Picca in West Los Angeles when owner/chef Ricardo Zarate (right) took control and sent out what he thought we should eat. 

The risk wasn't great, because Zarate knew us well from many dinners at Mo-Chica, his downtown Peruvian restaurant.

At Picca, the food is Peruvian, yet different from Mo-Chica. Here you get skewered foods called anticuchos, the most traditional of which is beef heart. I tried heart in Lima and found it well seasoned and delicious, not the gamey, unpleasant organ meat that I expected.

But for those who balk at eating heart, there are anticuchos with scallops (above), salmon and steak. And even cherry tomatoes topped with burrata and huacatay pesto (at top). No one could balk at what tastes thoroughly Italian.

Causa, the stack of mashed potatoes layered with chicken or other fillings, was divided into tiny bites that looked like potato petits fours (above). The toppings were shrimp, crab, chicken and raw tuna. You have to admit they're cute.

Rather than the usual marinated raw seafood ceviche, Zarate produced ceviche crocante, deep-fried halibut and calamari in a crisp golden coating. And a bowl of mussels.

And seabass tiradito with soy sauce dressing, reflecting the Asian aspect of Peruvian cuisine. And bowls of Peruvian style seafood paella. And tiradito with scallops and uni (above), which wasn't on the menu.

And chicharrón de pollo, crisp fried chicken strips (above) that would be perfect for a Super Bowl party.

The food came so fast that I wasn't always sure what I was eating.  This tasted sour. That tasted salty, but what was it?

The most recognizable were Zarate's seco de pato (above), duck leg confit in a bowl with black beer sauce and cilantro rice; a whole small branzino with green huacatay sauce and an artichoke half that was slathered with huacatay aioli and aji amarillo butter in which to dip the leaves.

Bisteck a la pobre (above) was pretty obvious, the steak topped with a jaunty fried egg and, surprise, a banana underneath and chick peas at the bottom.

And you couldn't be fooled by empanadas. These came with a palette of sauces--yellow aji amarillo, green jalapeño-cilantro and red rocoto pepper. The fillings were spicy beef (excellent), chicken and eggplant.

Chorizo crostini (above) was eye-popping bright with its brilliantly colored topping under orange potato chips. 

By dessert, I gave up trying to guess what I was eating.  Was that the lemon tart or the aji amarillo cheesecake? And what was that layered in a glass?  Someone said tres leches cake, but I never found the cake. It might have been snapped up by some other taster.

Churros (above) oozed out creamy, pale yellow lúcuma filling. Lúcuma is a Peruvian fruit with rich autumnal flavor that might make you think of pumpkin.

No confusion about chocolate cake (above) even though this wasn't the usual slice but a mound of dark cake with passion fruit filling and a slice of fruit on top.

Picca was crowded that Saturday night, and much later there was going to be some sort of bartending event upstairs. But after twenty dishes and five desserts, we packed up our tastebuds and went home.

Picca, 9575 W. Pico Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90035. Tel: (310) 277-0133.  

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. 
.

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.   

As Easy As--Chilcano

I was so taken with the fish soup at Segundo Muelle in Lima that I had to have it again. The problem was, I was back in  Los Angeles. The only option was  to make the soup myself.  Although I've never climbed Machu Picchu, I can certainly forge through a soup recipe, and this one turned into a peak experience--delicious and unbelievably easy.

The recipe calls for light stock, but I have also used water, which is probably what a Peruvian fisherman would do. And I add tomato for color, which makes sense, because tomatoes are native to Peru.

Getting the right balance of salt and tangy lime juice is crucial, so taste and adjust as necessary.

A salad and some crusty bread are the only accompaniments you'll need.

CHILCANO DE PESCADO
(Peruvian Fish Soup)

1 quart fish broth, vegetable broth or water
¾ pound white fish fillets, cut in chunks
1 loosely packed cup cilantro leaves, finely chopped
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 tomato, seeded and diced
½ to 1 jalapeno chile, seeded and minced
1 large clove garlic, chopped
Salt
10 black peppercorns
1/3 cup lime juice or more to taste

Place the broth in a large saucepan. Add the fish, cilantro, onion, tomato and jalapeno chile, adjusting the amount of chile to taste. Mash the garlic to a paste in 1 1/2 teaspoons salt and add along with the peppercorns.

Bring the soup to a boil, then lower the heat and boil gently for 15 minutes. Add the lime juice and cook a few moments longer. Taste and adjust the seasoning, adding more salt and lime juice if needed. 

Makes 4 servings.

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.