Destination Peru #5: Alfresco in Miraflores

Alfresco
Malecon Balco 790
Miraflores, Lima
$10 or so per person for lunch

One of the restaurants that came up time and again on the Peru Chowhound boards was Alfresco for ceviche. Along with Puerto Madero, Pescadores Capitales and La Mar, Alfresco was on my list of possible lunch places. My plan was just to accumulate a selection of restaurants I know with a good reputation so that I could stumble into any one of them when a meal came up. However, when our driver picked us up at the airport, he immediately suggested Alfresco. So off we went!



The interior of the restaurant is casual, with a beach theme. The Northern wall has a large mural of coastal scene, and the large windows make the place bright and airy, even if Lima is never sunny in the Winter. From my research, I've heard that ceviche is only eaten at lunch and that Alfresco only served lunch, but when I arrived, I found an advertisement for their extensive dinner menu as well. I glanced at the menu, but I already knew what I came here for.

Ceviche, or sometimes cebiche, is something of a coastal delicacy popular in Lima. It's relatively common not only in Peruvian cusine, but also in any number of Latin American countries with access to fresh seafood. Ideally, it's a simple preparation of any type of white fish marinated in lime juice with some other flavorants such as red onions and chiles. You may have commonly heard that ceviche is raw, but the acid in the juice actually denatures the proteins of the seafood, in a form of heatless cooking. While it's debatable whether or not cooking has to involve heat, it's not debatable that Peru is home to some excellent ceviche. Due to the Japanese influence, Lima also has tiradito, which is a younger brother to the ceviche, lacking onions and less of a strong flavor more akin to Italian crudo.



To start, the waiter brought out a small bowl for the table. At first I was startled by its appearance, looking somewhat like little bugs. I know insects aren't completely foreign from the table in certain South American countries, as mentioned in my post about entomophagy, but I hadn't heard of any instances of it in Peru. Luckily, I realized that this was a bowl of cancha instead, roasted corn kernels. These make a terrific bar food and went well with my beer. I could definitely snack on these as an alternative to nuts or pretzels at the bar.



Again, a charge for bread meant the rolls that arrived were delicious. The larger ones were nothing particular, but the small rolls along the edge of the plate are onion rolls no larger than a half-dollar in circumference. I popped one into my mouth and got a surprise of rich onion paste filling. I always wonder how much more I eat when the portions are small enough to fit several into my mouth at once.



Finally our ceviche came. Since I didn't quite know what the portions were like and I wanted to try a combination, I ordered two different types of sampler platters for the four of us. The first plate in the top picture consisted of mixed ceviche, tiradito with lemon chili cream, causa (potato cake), octopus with olive sauce, a California roll and seafood salad. I don't even pretend to know which item is which, so you might have to use your detective work to figure it out. Although I do know the one on the bottom left is the ceviche.



The second plate consisted of flounder ceviche, tiradito in lemon pepper vinaigrette, crayfish cocktail, scallop tartare, octopus salad, salmon nigri and something call an Inka maki. In both plates, the plainest ceviche was always the best. The octopus is also surprisingly tender, lacking the chewiness common when served raw. I loved the presentation of each individual dish on scallop shells. It was quite a bit of food as just an appetizer for four people though.



With two appetizer, we decided to order three entree for the four of us. My scallops were disappointing. I wasn't sure how it would be prepared, but I didn't like the heavy sauce, which reminded me of the sauce served on takoyaki in Japan. I was also less than thrilled with the plating after they've already served the scallop shells with the ceviche. Although, it was nice to know they were using whole scallops.



My mom and dad shared a pretty grilled octopus salad. I actually don't remember much about how this tasted and there's nothing in my notes, so I suppose it wasn't particularly memorable.



As much as the other two entrees were letdowns, my brothers squid ink risotto was the redemption. I'll agree, it's not particularly appetizing to eat something that looks like that, but I wonder if there's anything really delicious that's black. The ink was fresh, so it didn't have a fishy taste. However, the waiter told us there was no calamari, so they were substituting it with crab, crayfish and shrimp instead. Makes you wonder what happened to the pens in the restaurant.

At this point we were all stuffed to the gills. Fresh seafood is usually pretty hard to screw up as long as the cooking process is kept simple and quick. I had my taste of the sea, now it was time to move inland.

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Destination Peru #4: Miscellany of Fruits and Produce

As mentioned in my last post, Peru is home to a huge amount of biodiversity. What this means for me is a huge amount of things to eat. The above picture was taken at Vivanda, an upscale Whole Foods type market in Miraflores. Although many of the fruits and vegetables are recognizable as global staples, there are many that you don't see here unless in specialty markets.

For one thing, I was amazed at the varieties of heirloom tomatoes that have grown in popularity recently, but the number of those tomatoes are a paltry number compared to the over 3,000 varieties of domesticated potatoes in Peru. During my time there, I only had perhaps 5-6 that were consistently used in dishes, each with distinctly different flavors and textures. A potato can be intensely earthy, while its counterpart could be almost ethereal. One can be mealy and the other creamy. I suppose you can accomplish some of these different textures due to cooking method, but the differences in flavor are not so easily replicated.

Besides potatoes, there were also different types of corn, although not to the same degree. A constant staple was the large kernel corn you can see in my short ribs in the previous post. Below is a picture of a man selling boiled corn on the street. It was quite a common site actually, though typically with an Andean woman. My first impression upon seeing the giant kernel, each about 3-4 times larger than regular corn, was that it must be a large ear. Instead, I soon realized that the ears were the same size, but the kernels were just disproportionately large. I was also disappointed when eating it. There was no crunch, no satisfying snap to the corn. Each kernel was chewy and soft. In fact, it has almost no discernible flavor. I suppose I might be spoiled by the ultra-sweet GMO white corn here, but if this is what corn originally tasted like, then I would rather make a tortilla out of it instead. I think you would lose the pleasure of having a tasty corn on the cob treat.



Also, Peru has a purple corn most prominent as a drink chicha morada. The corn is boiled in water, turning the liquid the signature purple, and then pinapple and sugar are added as it cools. We bought a bottle at Vivanda, but it wasn't very good. It tasted artificial, and looking at the bottle I wouldn't be surprised if it was. It was much too sweet, but had an aftertaste of corn. I didn't see anyone eating the purple corn raw, but sometimes in a cooked state as a complement to a dish.




Every morning we had a complimentary breakfast served by the various hotels. In each hotel, there was always fresh squeezed papaya, pineapple and orange juice. Every fruit I ate was deliciously sweet, no "bad apples", not that I actually ate any apples. The plate below is a typical breakfast fruit platter I would make of kiwis, watermelon, papaya and an unidentified fruit in the top left. Those three pieces were sweet and a little mushy, but the seeds were round and extremely hard. If anyone can identify them, please comment below. My family also had many of the passionfruits in Peru. Considering how expensive they are in the States, it was a pleasure having them so cheaply we could eat them until we got sick of them. In the second picture, we bought a mandarin orange on the bottom right and three different types of passionfruit.



Of course I can't leave out meat. Commonly, there is the pork, chicken and beef that we all know and love. It is the alpaca and guinea pig that we don't see often. Strangely enough, I've heard that alpaca are illegal to slaughter for food, which makes me wonder where the meat comes from. Since I am much more a carnivore than anything else, I will go into these when I mention the restaurants that served them to me. But here's a picture of a typical meat market in Lima near Barrio Chino (Chinatown).



Sorry for the dearth of non-meal related pictures. Believe it or not, I'm still using a 256 mb memory stick on my camera. It wasn't until meticulously documenting this trip that space became a problem.

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Destination Peru #3: Astrid y Gaston

I haven't done much traveling since I started this blog back in April. In fact, I didn't realize how big a part of my life food was until three or so years ago. Therefore, I have never traveled before with quite the intensity and commitment to culinary excellence as I did this last week during my trip to Peru. Luckily, I realized this before Peru, which has so many gastronomic pleasures to offer. When my mom asked me to find activities in Lima, I found restaurants instead. Prowling the Chowhound boards, I came up with a list of over twenty restaurants around the country at the cities we would be visiting from Lima, Cusco, Agua Calientes, and Puno. I figured with this list, I would have somewhere to go wherever we stayed. But with such an impressive list, I wanted to ensure that I hit up at least one place--Astrid y Gaston.

As you will see in this series of entries on Peruvian cuisine, the appeal is often in the cultural hodgepodge that comprises this South American country. Three main regions contribute heavily: the coast, highlands, and jungle. From the coast, we get fresh seafood forming such dishes as the ceviche and tiradito, a subtler cousin of ceviche more similar to Italian crudo or Japanese sashimi. The jungle provides an assortment of fruits and vegetables, many unfamiliar to us in the States. Up in the highlands, the cultivation of potatoes and other hardy plants combine with alpaca and guinea pig. One of the reasons I was so interested in Astrid y Gaston was its extensive menu encompassing multiple cultures and all these regions together.

This was my first time making a reservation for a restaurant in another country in a language I haven't used since high school. Luckily, Astrid y Gaston has a website with convenient English and a reservation submission form. However, as my trip approached, I still hadn't received an e-mail confirmation as stated on the site. When I got to Lima, I asked the helpful concierge to confirm the reservation for me. We got to the restaurant with no problem, its location being not too far from the hotel in Miraflores.

The interior of the restaurant could have been in any metropolis in the world. A team of professional waitstaff attended to our every need, including replacing my dad's silverware after each of the four times he dropped it. Diners can look back into the kitchen, with modern art lining the walls. The dining set of assorted plates were different for each table. The food was comparably expensive, more than ten times the cost of our cheapest meals. This was a place for the Liman elite and globetrekking tourists.


That is my brother sitting across from me

In Peru, as in many other countries, the classiest restaurants charge for bread. While that may sound ridiculous to me, I am at least assured that they will provide bread worth paying for. I wasn't disappointed. A collection of corn, potatoes and regular wheat bread was presented by the waiter paired with a dipping sauce of garlic cilantro and an unidentified spicy one. It was even served to us as a course, with the server explaining each component of the basket. The various baked goods were satisfying, but dangerous to the hungry customer. I needed to conserve my stomach if I was going to be eating here. The portions were enormous.



As an appetizer, I ordered the Limeña, a golden potato puree formed into neat stacks with tuna, crab, avocado and spicy cream. While the plate of four indeed looked pretty, the taste was underwhelming. On the bright side, I could actually taste some complexity in the potato that is largely absent from the varieties we have in this country.



Initially, I wanted to try the roasted kid for my entree. That's kid as in young goat. While I could've said goat, there wouldn't be that glee from the momentary shock on people's faces when you tell of your meal of kid. However, my brother was much more adament about ordering it; and so in the interest of diversity, I ordered the el asado de tira y el maiz morado--beef short ribs with purple corn in a red wine reduction and baby corn. The picture is as unappetizing as the ribs. They were simultaneously burnt and cold. Not quite what I was expecting or hoping for.



But to redeem my dish, the other three entrees were phenomenol. As a side note, in Peru, as in Britain, entree refers to the appetizer, causing much confusion for me and my Spanish speaking waiter. I let my brother have the nuestro clasico cabrito lechal del del valle de chillon--roasted kid in purple corn juice with Huamantanga potatoes. Come to think of it, many of the names of our dishes were quite a mouthful. His was my favorite item of that dinner. The meant was succulent and tender with a full flavor in the meat absent from the bland livestock we're used to. It's the most expensive entree there, but well worth it.



My mom had the Pachamanca urbana--a whole chicken cooked in an earthen pot with Andean herbs and potatoes. While a simple looking dish, besides service in said large pot, the chicken had so much flavor that I could hardly recognize the poultry we see so commonly here. While Pachamanca is traditionally reserved for feasts and celebrations in the Andes, served communally, this urbana version was just split between us four. I also doubt they prepared underground on a bed of hot stones as it should be, but no complaints here.



For my dad, I ordered the conchinillo de tres semanas del invierno--a suckling pig confit prepared for three weeks in a cocoa reduction and served with a poached peach. The skin was crispy if not for the sauce, but the meat as tender as a suckling pig should be. I am constantly disappointed I can't find quality pork like this more often without paying for Kurobuta or Berkshire.



For dessert, I wanted to try something fruity to encompass their wide selection of produce. I already had a melon juice with my meal which was fragrant and complex, but we decided to try the three flavor seasonal sorbets for dessert. While the menu lists 5-6 fruits, the ones we got are prickly pear (aka tuna verde), lemongrass with lemon and passionfruit. The prickly pear turned out to be the winner, light on the palate, while the lemongrass was much too sour and the passionfruit lacked depth. With the check came another little treat of chocolate truffles and candied fruits.



I would highly recommend anyone on their way to Lima to make a trip to Astrid y Gaston. It really is a fine experience and a good way to get your feet with to all that Lima has to offer. I don't know if I would return immediately, but that is only because there are so many other restaurants to try. However, I wouldn't be surprised if this represented the most progressive cuisine the country has to offer.

Astrid y Gaston
www.astridygaston.com
Calle Cantuarias 175, Miraflores
Entrees were about US$21

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Destination Peru #2: Pisco and Our New Super Drink

Arriving in Lima, my family met up with our airport pick-up. We had a semi-tour, several days and meals on our own, with transportation services to our destinations and occasional guided tours. Our guide in Lima introduced us briefly to some sites around the city and also Peru's role as a culinary mecca in South America. More on that in the following entries. But today, my focus is on Peru's treasured nectar.

The national drink is Pisco, a brandy-like liquor distilled from grapes. It's got quite a kick at 43% alcohol, but it's deceptively sweet and delicious. It even has Denominacion de Origen protection, the Spanish equivalent of the Protected Destination of Origin label for Champagne. At our first hotel, Hotel Embajadores in the affluent suburb of Miraflores, we received vouchers for free Pisco Sours at the bar. This cocktail, a combination of Pisco, lemon or lime juice, simple syrup, egg whites and bitters has a distinctive look. The egg whites creating a foam that sits above the liquid and a few drops of bitters that float on the cloud of foam. Unfortunately I didn't get a picture of it, but rest assured I will one day make one myself and upload the picture here.

On my return from Peru, I bought two bottles of Pisco, one for myself and one as a gift at the duty-free stores. If you're curious, you're allowed to bring up to 3 litters of alcohol through US customs. Last night I had dinner with my old and new roommate at Restaurant 2117 and came back to my apartment to make some drinks. Besides finishing off a bottle of Nanbu-Bijin sake at the restaurant, I suggested we try to make cocktails out of my new bottle of Pisco. Remember, you saw it here first, created by Aaron Chan, Azriel Ghadoosashy and Abhijeet Joshi. Introducing the Piscaloe Vera (aka Verde Vera):



1 part Pisco
4-5 parts Korean Aloe Vera drink with pulp

There it is, simple and effective! We're relatively sure we're the first people ever to mix these two together and so we claim naming rights. As a variation, you can also mix any alcohol with the aloe vera drink and create Vokda Veras, Sake Veras, Rum Veras, etc.

So next time you're in Peru, or Chile apparently, try a Pisco sour. Remember, it's stronger than you think.

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Destination Peru #1: Plane Food Manifesto

Taking a cue from Amateur Gourmet's anti-dress code manifesto, I wanted to start off my Peruvian trip series with an attack on plane food. We all know what I'm talking about, the reheated mess that you wouldn't serve in prisons, yet are continued to be served to paying customers.

I've been met with surprise recently as I've been telling my friends that I spent last week in Peru. The most common response usually goes along the lines of "Peru? What are you doing in Peru?" My response is that traveling to Europe right now is prohibitively expensive and the Olympics would crowd out China and Asia. Plus I've never been to South America and I figured I'd make use of those four years of Spanish I took in high school (although living in LA, I'm exposed to Spanish enough). So for those of you who haven't been to Peru, it really is a wonderful country with culture bursting at the seams; and with that, culinary adventures aplenty.

Before I left, I did my research on what Peru had to offer gastronomically. The research pointed to the same things, Andean cuisine, coastal seafood, jungle fruits and a Creole culture of mixed heritage. There was a lot to look forward to; unfortunately, I had to get past the food on the plane.


Pasta with Cream Sauce

I'm slightly ashamed that I was hungry enough to eat most of this pasta, though none of the coleslaw. I did eat the prepackaged bread roll and cookie with gusto however. My issue with plane food is that it tries to be much more than it really is. Admittedly, I did not fly first class, where the food may be better, but I certainly didn't deserve to eat this. Perhaps in-flight meals are a holdover from when flying was a luxury and customers demanded a hot meal. But nowadays, people of all different social strata fly commercially, and being subjected to food like this just turns people off completely.

Unlike hospital food, which has the capacity to be good because of its grounded resources, planes lack proper kitchens or facilities. The so-called galley is only used to store and heat food, not prepare anything. Therefore, airlines need to realize that the resources of the plane are better used elsewhere. Simply put--food on planes should be cold.


Chicken with rice

We all know that reheated food loses much of its appeal. Perhaps this chicken was good in a previous life, but resurrected, it had no chance. The salad was also wilted and subjected to long contact with the dressing, resulting in soggy greens. Steps as simple as serving dressing separately would've vastly improved this meal. I understand that salad alone may not be enough of a meal to some people (me being one of them), but that same mentality can be applied to the main courses as well.

Now that airlines are losing so much money and cutting amenities, they're realizing that the terrible food they serve is just an unnecessary cost. Short domestic flights now sell food a la carte and since they're selling food, they maintain higher quality product. I had a turkey wrap flying from LA to NY on United and it was delicious. I don't understand why they can't apply the same technique to long-distance flights where they are more inclined to serve meals. Instead of giving me a reheated piece of dry meat, give me a sandwich with a side salad. There is enough cold foods that can be prepared cheaply and easily with much better results than a quick heating up in the galley. If anything, planes can boil water pretty efficiently. Flying EVA Airlines to Taiwan, they serve cup ramen as a snack. That's also a better use of plane resources, depending on the type of cup noodle served.

I am tired of being corned in my little airplane seat by a flight attendent handing me a tv dinner. Charge me if you must, but give me something palatable.

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Tofu Experiment 豆腐

Bad photo for equally bad tofu

I just returned from an amazing tour through the Andes by way of Peru, but before I regale you with my adventures with Peruvian cuisine, I have backlogged pictures from my experiment with tofu.

The day before my trip, Michelle asked if I wanted to try to make tofu. While I've never been a fan of bean curd, I thought it would be a worthwhile experience. The bland, jiggly block had been my culinary bane as a kid, and even as an adult I have yet to develop a real love for it. At the very least, I'd have something to share with all of my (1 or 2) readers.

Of course neither of us had any idea what to do, so we consulted the knowledge base of our generation--Google. Since the information is readily available, and my own experiment sort of failed, I will not post a recipe. There is a very informative and oddly calming video recipe here, but I will just take your broadly through the steps and my experiences with them.

Step 1: Purchase the necessary software and hardware

Borrowing some terminology from my favorite television personality Alton Brown, I will walk you through the difficulties of purchasing Japanese ingredients when you don't speak Japanese. Tofu is soy milk that has been curdled with the aid of a coagulant, generally magnesium chloride nigari in Japanese or calcium sulfate. We went to Mitsuwa, home of Santouka to purchase the dried soybeans (daizu) and nigari. There was no problem finding the soybeans, but the nigari created another challenge. In retrospect, I think we bought the wrong nigari, since the tofu turned out salty and didn't curdle without the addition of lemon juice.


Soybeans and nigari?

In addition, we needed cheesecloth to filter the soy milk. Believe it or not, I actually don't have cheesecloth. I know, what kind of chef am I. More unbelievable is how impossible it is to find anywhere that sells cheesecloth. Granted, I only looked in several drug stores, groceries, hardware stores and art supply stores. Perhaps it exists in an actual restaurant supply store. Finally, we settled on using nylon pantyhose as filters which actually worked extraordinarily well. All we needed was a fine mesh, and pantyhose fit the bill.

Step 2: Soak the Soybeans overnight



Exactly what it sounds like. I poured the soybeans into a plastic tub, picked out any rocks and covered it with cold water. I left it out on the counter top, but due to some scheduling issues, ended up soaking it for more than the recommended 6-10 hours. My soybeans were submerged for more than 24. I heard that oversoaking leeches out too much flavor from the beans, so we used some of the soaking water when blending the beans.

Step 3: Blend the soybeans



I used a blender because my food processor capacity is too small. The food processor would have blended the beans more evenly and I think I burned out my blender motor doing this, but the end result was a thick bean paste that we spooned out into a mixing bowl.

Step 4: Heat up the soy paste and strain



This was definitely the most painful and labor intensive step of the entire process. Pouring the mixture into my gigantic 10-quart stock pot, we heated it up to 165 degrees, the optimal temperature for making soy milk. Pouring the hot gloop into the nylon and squeezing the milk out of it scalded my hands. But the resulting milk was delicious. With a dash of sugar, the soy milk bested all the ones available commercially. The remaining solids (okara) can be used in other applications since it is nutritiously high in fiber, but I just tossed it out. It had no flavor after all, and one culinary experiment at a time was enough.

Step 5: Heat up the soy milk in a pot and add the coagulant



This is where we ran into our only major problem. The nigari salt did not coagulate the milk as expected. With a quick substitution of lemon juice, the curdles finally started appearing. But at this point, we had added excessive salt trying to coax the proteins of the milk to ball up. The result would be salty and lemon flavored tofu.

Step 6: Place the solids into a mold and apply weight



The mold can be as complicated as a perforated metal box or as simple as a milk carton. We opted to mutilate an old Tupperware container, allowing excess fluid to drain out the bottom. Folding over the nylons and placing a lid of aluminum foil, we weighed it down with a heavy bottle. The time it spends in the mold determines the firmness. We overshot the mark a little and came out with very meaty tofu.



The end result? Meaty, salty and lemony. Not usually the adjectives you hear describing tofu, and I would say that the product was somewhat of a failure. However, the soy milk by-product was satisfying and delicious. I also learned enough about the process to vastly improve next time. Would there be a next time? That's a more difficult question. It was a fun experience, but I think next time I might just stop at the soy milk and enjoy it without the curdling and molds.

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Meat Pie's Palace

Empanada's Palace
3811 Sawtelle Blvd
Mar Vista, 90066
$3.99 each

Not that appetizing when you translate it, but that's what empanadas are. What about Pasty's Palace? That has a nicer alliterative tone. Derived from the Spanish empanar, to wrap in bread, these little doughy patties make good snacks or combine to make a hearty meal. Empanada Palace serves a wide variety of Argentinian empanadas mostly to-go, but with some simple seating available. Each filling is distiniguished by specific dough folding, which astounded me, but seemed matter-of-fact to the waitress.



The look the same to me. One of them is the signature criolla empanada made of ground beef, raisins, green onions, boiled eggs and a variety of other spices. According to the menu, this is the classic empanada common in Argentina. Biting into the flaky crust, I could tell a lot of lard went into its construction. A good pie crust has a balance of lard and butter, and I can only assume that the empanada crust has plenty of fat. The beef was not the highest quality, but surrounded by the other spices, it I didn't notice its flaws. I wasn't keen on the pieces of egg, but they didn't take too much away from it overall. The other empanada is a spicy chicken that actually tasted blander and not too satisfying. Altogether, each one tasted like an ethnic cross between a hot pocket and a chicken pot pie, two things I coincidentally had in the freezer at work.

$7.98 is not too expensive for a lunch, but I feel like empanadas are supposed to be much cheaper. They are peasant food after all, nothing about it besides its location in West LA makes it worth that much. I would consider buying a dozen for the price of ten and bringing them to a potluck. Otherwise, I don't foresee myself here too often.

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