Eating Our Way Through Lima

I need to fess up. While the past three weeks in Lima have been a hectic roller coaster – immersing ourselves in a new language, finding our footing in a city of 10.5 million, etc. – I’ve been holding out on sharing a major piece of our experience; perhaps the most significant thus far, apart from learning Spanish. It’s true we’ve been consumed with studying and navigating life, but we’ve been consuming as well. Food, that is, and plenty of it. The culinary scene in Lima is innovative, enticing and world-renowned, and we are taking full advantage.

I’ve laid to rest any notion I had of dropping a couple l-b’s on this trip. It’s just not worth it, not in Lima anyway. Luckily we walk everywhere so our clothes still fit the same, but we swapped the daily bus ride to class for a 2.5 mile walk, just for good measure. And now that my dietitian-side is somewhat appeased, let’s get to it.

First thing’s first: churros. Deep-fried dough caked in sugar, shaped like a giant french fry for your convenience – what could be better. I first mistook churros for glorified donuts, but then I tried one. They’re crunchy, messy and far greasier, like donut’s gritty cousin. You can find them anywhere, especially in touristy areas where locals sell homemade churros out of big crates, typically 2 for 1 sol ($0.30). The problem with these is they tend to get stale later in the day, and street food in general can be risky (we risked it and were fine). Churros from a cafe are a little pricier but fresh, and sometimes served with chocolate dipping sauce for about 12 soles ($4). We got this tip at Spanish school one day and went straight from class to treat ourselves at a popular cafe, Manolo. Their churros were amazing – fresh, crispy, piping hot with melty chocolate. It cured me of my churros curiosity, thank goodness.

I need to add here, Peruanos love all desserts in all forms. Charlie and I marvel at the number of people casually walking around with cake, pastries, ice cream, and these little cups of jelly they eat with spoons. They seem fearless in the face of sugar; it’s inspiring in a way. Every corner store, street food vendor and hole-in-the-wall cafe has a display case of fresh baked goodies ready to go. It’s a tough place to have a sweet-tooth, or maybe the perfect place, depending on how you look at it.

On the lighter side, we’ve fallen in love with ceviche, the saving grace for my waist line. It doesn’t get much healthier (or tastier) than slices of fresh fish and seafood marinated in acidic lime and lemon juices, which effectively “cook” the fish allowing it to be served refreshingly cold. Considered Peru’s most popular dish, ceviche has been declared part of the national heritage and even given its own holiday (June 28). It’s typically served with marinated red onion, sweet potato and boiled corn, but the varieties are endless, allowing for imaginative creations that look more like art than dinner. Personally, I get a little intimidated by tentacles and tails swimming out of shells in my bowl, so I go for the simpler ones. If I’m eating raw fish, I prefer it to be basic and in plain sight.

A few of our favorite ceviche restaurants so far have been Javier, a trendy spot in Barranco with amazing rooftop views, and Barra Chalaca, a true locals favorite in the upscale San Isidro neighborhood. It packs out every day for lunch and has an outstanding menu that includes fried yuca fritters (yes, please). Canta Rana in Barranco, another first-choice for locals, is also high on our list. We ordered a simple pescado ceviche and tacu tacu langostino, both winners. Tacu tacu is not only fun to say, it’s a nutritious blend of beans and rice cooked in to a patty and used as a base for savory dishes. Ours was served under a flavorful lobster sauce loaded with shrimp. Yum.

We’ve also become big fans of Chifa, a Peruvian-Chinese fusion that is wildly popular here. Our favorite dish is chaufa, a mountain of fried rice mixed with vegetables and various Peruvian touches like seafood. One plate is plenty to share and costs around 13 soles ($4). To get the full experience, we ventured to Lima’s Chinatown (Barrio Chino) to eat chifa in the heartland. We ordered shrimp dumplings and verdura saltado (Chinese sautéed vegetables), which is a great dish when you’re craving veggies.

I’ve really only skimmed the surface of what we’ve been eating here. Lima, especially Barranco, is packed with unique cafes, sangucherías (sandwich shops), panaderias (bakeries) and heladerías (ice cream shops). For the sake of brevity, below are pictures with descriptions of our favorites, followed by one funny food story at the bottom. Hasta luego chicos!

Funny food story of the week: Barranco is home to many of the best restaurants in Lima, including Central, the No.6 ranked restaurant in the world (and next door to our casita). The foodie scene is strong here, and while Charlie and I don’t consider ourselves “foodies” (we’re not adventurous eaters who like paying a lot for food), we decided to get in the spirit and try one of the hot restaurants. We settled on Isolina Taberna, a trendy place serving Peruvian classics with a modern twist, set in a charming old colonial-style building.

Last night, after a long walk and 30 minute wait at Isolina, we were seated and asked if we wanted the menu in Spanish or English. “Spanish,” we said, playing it cool. Not recognizing anything on the menu, I asked for it in English, and realized every item was basically beef heart or kidney. They did offer a fried fish sandwich, but that was too basic for foodie night. One signature dish said “chicken” and we sighed in relief, too hungry to look up what “sweetbread” meant in the description. I figured it had to be like corn bread, since the dish was a stew. The waiter came back and told us they only had a half portion left (he only repeated it three times in Spanish before I understood), so we knew this dish was popular. It came out as a thick, rich stew with meat that looked much darker than chicken. I was instantly skeptical, and after a few bites I started feeling queasy. Feeling bold, I called the waiter over and asked if the order was right. He said it was. “Es pollo?” I asked. “Si,” he said. “Es diferente,” Charlie chimed in. The waiter smiled. “Si,” he said, explaining it was made from the chicken’s neck and asked if we liked it. We nodded politely, then ordered the fish sandwich.