Sampling the Peruvian Plate

Everywhere I travel in the world I make an effort to sample and learn of the local cuisine. A recent trip to Peru provided a smorgasbord of food that was diverse, healthy and ancient. Perhaps more famous for its Inca ruins and archeological wonders than its culinary allure, the Peruvian cuisine is largely undiscovered on the world stage. 

The food and cooking of Peru reflect a vast array of climates, as well as a variety of contact with other countries and cultures. This South American nation extends from the Pacific coast in the west to peaks that rise above 22,000 feet in the Andes Mountains to a lush rainforest in the Amazon jungle. 

From a historical point of view, Peruvian cuisine has been influenced by waves of immigrants from Europe, Asia and Africa. These influences coalesced with a rich diet already consumed by the Inca and other Indigenous groups.

I came to Peru with my daughter, Jenna, and everyday there was something new for us to try. Below I have made a list of nearly every dish, food or drink that we encountered that I felt was a part of the Peruvian culture.
 

Lomo Saltado.  If I were to pick one as the quintessential Peruvian dish, I would choose lomo saltado. It is colorful, tasty and simple. Like many other dishes, it has influences from around the world. It was first prepared by Chinese chefs living in Peru in the nineteenth century who decided to stir-fry marinated beef (brought from Spain) with onions and tomatoes. It is served with a side of rice and French fries (made from Peruvian potatoes). Lomo saltado is a dish that will probably never become world-famous like pizza or sushi, but it is one that I imagine is eaten often in many humble Peruvian homes.
 

Chicha Morada.  Chicha Morada is a non-alcoholic beverage made from purple corn, not to be confused with chicha de jora, a fermented drink, also known as corn beer. In addition to purple corn, it is boiled with pineapple rinds, quince, cinnamon, cloves and sweetened with sugar. It is cooled and served cold. This was a pre-Colombian drink, although I'm sure they used the ingredients they had at hand (cinnamon, for example, they did not have because it comes from southern Asia). Like so many other foods in Peru, purple corn is native to the Andes Mountains.
 

Emoliente.  This warm and comforting drink we found sold on the streets of Lima. The closest thing I can compare it to is apple cider, but with lots of herbs. The vendors at their carts usually had a large cauldron from which they cooked the beverage. The brew is cooked using barley, Andean horsetail, cat's claw, linseed, alfalfa, honey, quinoa and probably whatever else they want to use. The recipe can vary from person to person. It is claimed to have medicinal qualities that boost the digestive system and help with respiratory issues. For me it was very soothing.
 

Ceviche.  In Peru, ceviche is a very traditional dish that is prepared differently than it is in other countries. Extremely flavorful, it is powered with raw onions, peppers, hot sauce, and raw fish that marinates in lime juice. For texture it is served with both dry corn (cancha) and fresh corn. It is also served with slices of sweet potato. I enjoyed getting a bite with a chunk of fish, a dab of hot sauce, a slice of red onion and a piece of corn.
 

Sopa de trigo.  "Trigo" translates to wheat, corn, or more generalized, grain. However, in this situation it refers to barley. We ate this soup as a first course, but I'm sure historically it could have been used as a full meal. It is made with beef, barley and a variety of vegetables, including potato, carrot, zapallo squash, celery and parsley. There are plenty of varieties. Ours appeared puréed with the exception of potato chunks and a leafy green. From what I've read, sopa de trigo is not usually puréed.
 

Ají de Lizas con Pollo.  “Ají” pertains to the ají amarillo chili, which has its origins in the Andes Mountains. Although it appears red, it turns yellow when cooked. It is the base for many dishes and sauces. “Liza” is a reference to papa lisa, a tuber that also originates in the Andes. It looks like a speckled potato, but is yellow on the inside. Combining the ají with the papa lisa makes for a very yellow dish. When we ate it, we decided that it had a very “earthy” flavor that reminded us of beets.— The ají de lizas was served next to a scoop of rice and grilled chicken.
 

Picarones.  These are doughnuts made of sweet potatoes, covered in a molasses-like syrup. They are light, fluffy and crispy. We bought these from a street vendor in Lima. They were invented during the colonial period to replace buñuelos from Spain. As with many other dishes in South America, they substituted a local ingredient for something that was scarce. In this case it was sweet potatoes in place of flour.
 

Breakfast.  I will admit that I have no idea what the typical Peruvian eats for breakfast. But I do know that every morning we were served breakfast in our hotel, it was basically the same thing. To drink we were served fruit juice, warm milk, and some sort of tea such as chamomile. We were offered coffee but declined. In the middle of the table was a basket with four rolls, which were a cross between a baguette and a normal roll. There was also a plate of meat and cheese, a small bowl of jam, and balls of hard butter. The amount seemed perfect to make one meat and cheese sandwich, and one of jam.
 

Ají de Gallina.  This is a very delicious dish made yellow by using ají amarillo paste. Gallina is translated as “hen,” but any type of chicken breast will do. Other ingredients such as onion, garlic, pecans, Parmesan cheese, bread and evaporated milk are added to create a creamy stew. Ours was served over slices of boiled potato and next to a heap of rice and slices of tomato. For Jenna, this was her favorite dish she ate in Peru.
 

Alfajor.  This light and flaky confection is made of flour, honey and nuts. It was brought to Peru in the 1500's from Spain, who inherited it from the Moors, who inhabited parts of the Iberian Peninsula for nearly 800 years. The name is likely of Arabic origin. I'm sure there are several varieties, but the alfajores I've seen are like mini sandwiches, with a dulce de leche filling in the middle.
 

Alpaca a la Parilla.  Grilled alpaca. I will admit that this was the most disappointing food of the entire trip. Maybe I just got a bad serving. We were hungry and ate at a small restaurant in Ollantaytambo. It took them forever to get our food and we were the only customers. The steak was tough and had a unique taste to it. Not quite like a game animal, but similar. The texture was similar to that of a game animal—kind of chewy. It was also bland. Had to use lots of salt and pepper.
 

Anticuchos.  Anticuchos are the Peruvian version of kebabs. It is meat cooked on a skewer, and usually that meat is beef heart. It is Pre-Columbian, originating in the Andes. The name comes from the Quechua language. I thought they tasted pretty good and if I didn't know better I would have never guessed it was heart. I ate it with rocoto relleno on the side.
 

Rocoto.  Rocoto peppers grow in the cool, high landscapes of the Andes Mountains and are a bit more spicy than red bell peppers. Rocoto relleno (or stuffed rocoto) contains a filling of ground beef, garlic, onions, pepper, spices and whatever else the chef desires. It may be baked in the oven, although I think mine was battered and deep-fried.
 

Milhojas.  We found this pastry being sold at a street cart across the street from the Lima Peru Temple. It is made with several stacked layers of pastry puff, filled with dulce de leche and sprinkled with powdered sugar. We sat down on the grass and ate our delicious treat. Although milhojas originated in France, it is considered part of the cuisine in several other places including Spain, Peru and other Latin American countries.
 

Chaufa.  Chaufa is a fried rice dish that originated with the Chinese who settled in Peru in the nineteenth century. It is simple and inexpensive, usually consisting of rice, scallions, eggs, chicken and soy sauce. My experience eating chaufa was memorable. We ate it at a lone table off the side of a dirt road in the Peruvian Amazon, cooked by a lady named Dora. We enjoyed conversation and a glass of Coke while we ate our chaufa.
 

Inca Kola.  The national soda is undoubtedly Inca Kola. Interestingly, it was developed by a Brit who immigrated to Peru. Although it has a sweet fruity flavor similar to bubble gum, it is the lemon beebrush, native to South America, that gives the drink its unique flavor.
 

Pollo a la Brasa.  Probably my favorite thing I ate in Peru was Pollo a la brasa, or rotisserie chicken. It was tasty and tender. It was served with a mayonnaise sauce and ají verde chilli pepper sauces. The chicken is rubbed with spices and slowly cooked on a spit over coals or flame. Although you can find roasted chicken in many other countries, according to the internet, its roots are in Peru. I loved pollo asado in Spain with alioli sauce, but what I ate in Peru seemed to be a step up.
 

Sopa de Chuño.  Chuño is one of Peru's more fascinating specimens. It's a freeze-dried potato whose origins are in the high Andes of Peru and Bolivia. Traditionally the potatoes are spread on the ground where they are frozen by night and sun-dried by day. After a few days of this they are stepped on with bare feet. This allows for excess water to be squeezed out and detaches some of the peels so they come off easier. The drying process is repeated until all the water is gone. The dried potatoes are then rinsed in water and subsequently dried to create white chuño. If unwashed they are called black chuño.  

The final product can be stored for years and has been considered a staple in Andean cuisine. It can be ground into flour and used in soups, which is how I assume it was used in our dish. We ate it as a first course at San Blas Market in Cusco. I couldn't tell you everything that was in it, but it was very hardy, thick, and came with a couple chunks of potato and garnished with parsley.
 

Caldo de Gallina.  Throughout our two weeks in Peru I was eying one item that I saw on nearly every menu: caldo de gallina, or chicken broth. I knew it wasn't just broth because occasionally I would catch a glimpse of it and what I saw was a beautiful brothy, creamy, and hearty stew with a chunk of chicken and hard-boiled egg.⸺On our last night in Cusco I knew it was time to pull the trigger and see if it lived up to expectations. Well . . . they served it in a bowl where it looked as good as I'd hoped it would. In addition to the piece of chicken and hard-boiled egg, it came with spaghetti noodles and diced scallions. Everything tasted wonderful . . . except . . . that piece of chicken! Oh how I had high expectations for the chicken! I'm not even sure which part of the chicken it was, but either it had no meat, or the meat was so tough that it tasted like an old hen that can't lay eggs anymore and is slaughtered to eat (after all, gallina technically translates more specifically to “hen” instead of “chicken"). Oh, well. You can't win them all! Now I have an excuse to try it again or just make it at home. I think caldo de gallina has a lot of potential. ♠

Sunrise at Oxbow Bend (Day 3)

Before my alarm went off I could hear the chatter outside in the trees. Birds, monkeys, frogs, or all of the above? 

My alarm clock went off at 5 am and I crawled out of bed after a couple of snoozes. I listened . . . no rain. A peek outside confirmed it. 

With rubber boots now over our feet and flashlights in hand, we walked down the muddy trail to the boat that was docked along the river. 

The predawn glow reflected off the Rio de la Madre de Dios. Across the shore a silhouette of tropical trees, an orange hue above them, and a wisp of mist dancing among them. 

The skies were clear, but the water still choppy from last night's rain storm. Fresh air ran across my face as the boat moved swiftly down-current. 

Morning mist in the Amazon.

We docked at a place called Oxbow Bend on an island that would be covered with water during the wet season. We walked over smooth pebbles on the riverbed. 

This morning we were searching for parakeets. Sometimes at sunrise they fly from their trees on the hill, down to the rocks by the river to find minerals. David set up the spotting scope and we scouted for birds. 

It didn't take long to spot a tree full of green parakeets, all perched immovable in the branches. Down below on the water we spotted a white heron, and then an egret. 

With most of the clouds gone, we now had a good view of our slice of the Amazon. In the distance we could see the Andes Mountains from whence we came. One peak, Sahuasiray, stood out because of its pointed and snow-capped summit at 19,088 feet. We now stood at only 1,500 feet. 

Mount Sahuasiray poking through in the distance.

Parakeets as seen through the spotting scope.

The sun rose and the parakeets remained stubborn on their branches. We each took turns looking at them through the spotting scope. When we weren't gazing off in the distance, we had our heads down searching for pretty pebbles from the riverbed. 

We gave up on the parakeets and returned upriver toward the lodge. Along the way we stopped and watched four beautiful red macaws fly from their trees. 

Cesar, the boatman.

This was our final day in the Amazon and it was now time to make the long journey back to Cusco. We ate a Peruvian breakfast of fruit and yogurt, and then said goodbye to our wonderful cook, Dora. Twenty minutes later we were shaking hands and giving hugs to Tony, the Aussie, and David, our guide. They would stay one more night. 

We returned to the boat, this time with our luggage, and the motorized vessel pushed us upstream toward Atalaya where our van was waiting. 

Our lodge.

In the very back is Dora, our cook.

From here our journey turned into a battle of survival. All of us were tired. We had already seen all the scenery on the way down. This called for one thing—sleep! 

But sleep was not easy. The roads were bumpy and constantly winding. 

We stopped at one of the villages again for Gabriel, the driver, to say goodbye to his mother. I tried staying awake through the villages, but attempted sleep after that. But there was no good sleep. 

Our total trip to Cusco lasted 8 ½ hours and climbed nearly 10,000 feet. Ten minutes were spent walking through jungle, 30 minutes on the river, 5 hours on a graveled road, and the rest mostly on pavement. It took us 4 hours and 15 minutes just to climb out of the Amazon. 

Village of Atalaya as seen from the river.

Looking back on this adventure, there are three things that have stood out: 

1.) The landscape. There are few places in the world more beautiful than the Amazon. The tropical trees, waterfalls, rivers, monkeys, birds. Being truly remote I think also added to its beauty. So did the adventure of the journey. 

2.) Local people. I am extremely fascinated by the idea that there are countless villages located within the Amazon. Each time we passed through a village I would stare out the window and wonder what it would be like to be in their shoes. We ate at the same table as some of them. Our boatman, Cesar, was from the local village. He spoke a language called Matsigenka. He didn't learn Spanish until he started grade school. 

3.) Our group. It is such a rare opportunity to have close contact with people around the globe for three days straight—at least for me. In our group we had people representing Russia, the Czech Republic, Australia, Peru, and the United States. I was impressed and inspired by how well all spoke English. They were all well traveled and educated. Tony, I believe, said he's been to 26 countries. What a pleasure it was to listen to their perspectives, hear their stories, and sit across the dinner table from them. ♠

 

(L-R): Magdalena and Jan (the Czechs), Pavel (the Russian), Tony (the Aussie), me, Jenna, and David (our guide, the Peruvian).

 

Rubber Boots in the Rainforest (Day 2)

The sky was still gray and dreary when we awoke at 5:30. I slipped on my pants and shirt and pulled on my shoes. It was a short walk across the lawn to the bathroom. 

As soon as it was light enough to see we gathered with David and walked around the lodge. He pointed out various plants and tees growing in the vicinity such as a cinnamon tree and a lemongrass bush. He plucked off a pod from what he called a lipstick plant. The little seeds inside, when broken, created a red paint and could be used cosmetically. 

There was a cocoa tree, the kind you use to make chocolate; and a coca tree, the kind you use to make cocaine. He gave us a brief rundown on the latter. 

Walking around the lodge, learning of the various plants.

Lemongrass plant.

Rubber boots on the bed.

We ate breakfast at the lodge where we were joined by a green parrot who flew onto the table to steal a chunk of bread. He refused to talk with us, probably upset we didn't feed him. 

We packed our belongings and brought them to the van. Little did we know that there were other families living in the jungle near the lodge . . . and we would be giving their kids a ride to school. 

Leonel sat next to us. He was about five years old. His sibling sat behind wearing a Spider-Man shirt. Their school was a forty minute drive on a dirt road. I don't know if they bum rides off tour vans everyday or not. But it was certainly a chore to get the kids to school. We saw two other vehicles packed with 8 or 9 kids. 

This green parakeet wanted to join us for breakfast.

Leonel on his way to school.

We were also told that this area has true native tribes who have nearly no contact with the outside world. Perhaps an anthropologist may live with them, but tourists are strictly forbidden to go anywhere near. They told the story of a white person getting killed with an arrow a few years ago when they got too close. 

We drove through the jungle, mostly on flatland now, but also down small hills as we were still declining in elevation. We caught our first good glimpse of the river, the Madre de Dios. These would be the waters upon which we would ride. 

The Madre de Dios River.

The village of Atalaya wasn't much. The school was right across the so-called street from the boat dock. We all had to wait. The school kids were early and had to wait for their teacher. We had to wait for the boat driver. 

It was a good time to sit down and watch. The school kids were fake-fighting one with another. A dog wandered past. A rooster stood in the street and crowed. The rest of us lounged around, waiting for the boat. For ten minutes the heavens opened and rain poured down. 

Just down the hill from the street was the river—wide, yet deep enough to navigate a boat. At the opposite side stood rolling hills partially shrouded in clouds and totally covered in jungle. 

Boat on the river.

Village of Atalaya. Schoolboy waiting for the teacher to arrive.

A wandering rooster.

Waiting for the boatman to come.

The boat was long with a canopy covering the seats. Cesar, a local villager, sat toward the stern running the motor. The six of us climbed in and Cesar fired up the engine. 

The Madre de Dios River is part of the Amazon Basin and flows from the foothills of the Andes Mountains in Peru into Bolivia and to the border of Brazil where it becomes one with the Madeira River. These same waters then travel another 800 miles before they merge with the mighty Amazon River. 

As our vessel was set in motion we soon passed a waterfall that tumbled into the water. A house perched on a rock overlooking the bend, commanding a great view. We traveled down-stream and I wondered if there were any indigenous tribes living in these hills. 

This was our small, beloved group.

Waterfall pouring into the river.

In one place we passed through a section of whitewater, causing the barge to be tossed upon the surface. With all our luggage and other gear, I sure didn't want to capsize. We had to trust the driver. 

At another spot we pulled over at the bank. We removed our shoes and replaced them with rubber boots. We stepped out of the boat and began a walk through the jungle. 

Walking through the jungle into a banana grove.

This was a true jungle. The pathway was so narrow it was dark, having groves of bamboo trees and vines dangling down. We stepped in puddles of water and sections of mud, proving the necessity of the boots. At one point we passed through a miniature banana grove. 

Our destination: a hot springs. I will admit that when we arrived I was a bit disappointed. The warm water was now contained in a rectangular cement box three-feet deep and the size of a miniature swimming pool. There was a small bamboo changing room that didn't feel too private because while inside you could see people on the outside perfectly well! 

I changed into my swimming suit and spent twenty minutes in the water with the Czech couple, while the Aussie and the Russian sat near the edge on a stool and talked with us. By the time we got out, dried off and changed, the rain began to pour. And it didn't stop. 

The humble hot springs.

Rain in the rain forest should feel perfectly natural, but it was taking us to the next level of adventure. Rocks became more slippery, mud deeper, clothes wetter. David, our guide, pulled off banana leaves for each of us and we used them as umbrellas. 

By the time we returned to the river, it was now a muddy brown. The entire surface seemed to be rolling in whitewater. I don't know if it was just my imagination, but it appeared wider. 

Using a banana leaf for an umbrella.

Rain coming down on the river.

We quickly got beneath the canopy of the boat and drove down-river for twenty minutes and pulled over again. This time we pulled out all our luggage and walked up another trail, this one covered in roots and more mud. The rain still came down. 

At the top of our ten-minute walk was a lodge. Our lodge. No other access other than boat. We were elated at the prospect of lying down on a soft bed. 

Our lodge was only accessible by boat.

Our rooms were very nice. Each bed sat on a wooden floor with a mosquito net tied above. On three sides were glassless windows, and on the fourth a private bathroom. The vaulted ceiling ran between the rooms and was open in the sense that you could throw a tennis ball over the wall and have it land in the neighbor's room. In front was a covered porch with two wooden chairs. I laid on the soft bed, felt the wind blow through the screen window, and listened to the constant rain beating outside. 

We ate in the comedor, which was in another building just up the hill. We walked there in our rubber boots. Dora made us guiso de lisa, a Peruvian stew made from the yellow lisa potato. Once again our meal was filled with interesting topics, including the nuisance of kangaroos in Australia. 

Guiso de lisa with rice.

We had one more excursion for the day, but the constant rain put a question mark on that activity. After some delay, we decided to go for it. 

Once again we marched down the hill. By now, some of the standing water came nearly to the top of our boots. We wore ponchos, but with the wind we were still getting wet. 

The boat now moved on a swollen river that grew by the minute. Our destination was only a couple miles away and this time we docked on the opposite side. 

We walked up another narrow trail. David took the lead, using a machete to clear any devious vines. A stone path built from smooth riverbed rocks raised us above the mud, but their hard round shape caused us to often walk on the ground instead. 

A swampy area filled with a variety of birds.

At a swamp we found two rafts made of balsam wood. We boarded them, using long sticks to push our way along. 

This was a sanctuary for birds. There were many of them, even in the rain. Flying low in the bushes were the flycatchers, their bellies black and bodies small. Perched stoically on the branches of the trees were what locals call stinkbirds. Their official name is hoatzin. They are noted for the spiky plumage on their crest. There was another larger bird that looked a lot like a wild turkey and it sat on ground in the grass. 

Stinkbirds, or officially known at hoatzin.

We used these balsam rafts to push across the swamp.

We pushed across the swamp on our balsam rafts to the other side where we climbed a ladder to the top of a lookout tower. Luckily for us it had a roof, giving a temporary reprieve from the down-pouring water. We used binoculars to look down upon these feathered creatures, all of them unfazed to have us there. 

After half an hour of bird-watching it was time to turn back. It would be getting dark soon and with no lights on the boat it would be dangerous to navigate at night. We climbed down the tower and pushed back across the swamp. As we waked on the trail the rain continued to fall and standing water became deeper. 

Standing on a tower watching birds.

Then, David had us stop. He heard something. 

David has a natural ability, with ears like a dog. He also knows how to whistle and call in an animal. We watched him do his thing . . . and waited. 

Suddenly a branch moved. Then another. In a flash a small animal the size of a ball jumped from one tree to the next. A squirrel monkey! 

Soon there were several. Moving around high in the trees, they were the size of giant rats, which made good pictures nearly impossible. But the moment we will never forget. 

The squirrel monkey is one of the smallest monkeys in the world, but unique to the Amazon. We sat in the pattering rain staring into the canopy of trees above us, straining our eyes to catch a glimpse of them jumping with great dexterity from one branch to the next. Due to the dimness of the sky, these cute little animals appeared mostly as silhouettes. Occasionally we could make out detail and detect their short light-brown fur and long tails. At times they let out a squeal or chirp that reminded me of our squirrels back home. 

By the time we returned to the boat and docked back at the lodge we were using the last possible sunlight. Walking up the trail to the lodge we used flashlights. 

Skies turning dim on a rainy day.

Inside our rooms we removed every article of clothing and hung them wherever possible. I took a shower using water no warmer than that of the river. Even though we were in the Amazon, we were all very cold. 

At dinner we enjoyed another delicious homemade meal. This time Cesar joined us, along with his son, Cesar Junior. It was discovered that we at that table were fluent in seven languages: English, Spanish, Russian, Czech, Quechua, and Matsigenka (a local Amazonian language). 

Junior told us how he loves to swim in the river and his five-year old son is already swimming there. This slice of the Amazon is their life and has become a part of them. The rest of us in the group have traveled all over the world. But the locals here have hardly left the area. Yet they live here, in the Amazon. This is their home. They are happy.

It is now late as I finish this journal entry. There are many more details, but time doesn't allow. The rain has stopped. Wind continues to blow through our screen windows. The frogs are in a massive choir from the muddy bogs of the jungle. 

 

View from our lodge.