Perú. A country known for its vibrant culture, natural beauty, and welcoming citizens; the perfect combination for a semester spent studying abroad. I have been in the capital city of Lima since August 2nd, and I won’t arrive “home” to the good ol’ U.S. of A until just before Christmas, allowing myself a week and a half of travel time after finals are over.

I could write to you about the places I’ve travelled to so far, like Machu Picchu, which was expectedly breathtaking, albeit filled with an obscene amount of tourists (climbing the remote glacier of Huaytapallana, 16,000 feet above sea level, in the southern highland region of Junín was much more impressive). Or maybe the culture that defines the college age kids in Lima, specifically at the university I attend, el Universidad de San Ignacio de Loyola (they dress in Hollister and Volcom, listen to 50 Cent and ‘80s glam rock, and are basically trying to escape their Peruano heritage in favor of one that models Europeans and Americans). But what has really captured my attention so far, what really gets me out of bed every day, isn’t the air pollution, heavy traffic, or even Spanish class at 7 a.m.; es la comida.

The food in Perú will make you believe in God. Or, at least some wild deity who sure can cook a hell of a meal. The premier dish is cebiche, raw seafood marinated in lime juice, seasoned with salt and pepper, and served with fresh onions, tomatoes, sweet potato and choclo. The acids in the lime juice are what “cook” the pescado, and the leftover juice from cebiche, known as “El leche del Tigre”, is known as a superb remedy for hangovers. So what exactly separates Peruano cebiche from all rest? It’s the Humboldt Current, a coldwater, Pacific current that sweeps eastward towards the northern Chilean coast and the entire coast of Peru, bringing with it mass quantities of various sea creatures still unaffected by any sort of oil spill. It is considered to be the highest quality of seafood available anywhere on planet Earth. Fishermen have field days catching this stuff, and it’s sold cheap to both restaurants and the customers alike. A fancy cebicheria will charge around 30 nuevos soles for a large plate of cebiche, and if you do the math, that’s $10.75. What a deal, at least for a gringo like me.

The local cuisine, other than cebiche, mainly consists of healthy doses of chicken, seafood, potatoes, rice, beans, fruit, and vegetables, with more rice and potatoes. The grub was a major factor in my decision to study in Peru’s capital city, besides learning Spanish and trekking some rugged Andean mountains. Lima is, after all, known as the gastronomic capital of the Americas (that’s North, Central, and South…) So imagine my delight when my American roommate, David, arrived home one evening with tickets to Mistura, the top gastronomic festival in the southern hemisphere. I immediately started fasting for the event, but my stomach couldn’t take the grief after a few hours, so I just resorted to eating a light meal before arriving a few Thursdays ago. And oh, what a sight to behold..

With over 75 restaurants vying for your business with the best dishes they have to offer, it is impossible to try everything. Mistura, located in the large exposition park downtown, is incredibly popular amongst Peruanos, even folks from other parts of South America. I knew even a Thursday would be crowded, but being shoulder to shoulder with thousands of Latinos threw me off guard. I’m no mathematician, but I know large crowds plus long lines equals cocktails; I needed a pisco sour before commencing my culinary quest. A pisco sour is a traditional, deceptively potent Peruano cocktail made from pisco (distilled wine), lime juice, egg whites, simple syrup, and angostura bitters (note: this drink comes highly recommended to my amigos in Springvegas who are looking for a break from the Keystone kegs and everyone’s good buddy Evan Williams. Pisco should be available at your local Brown Derby; try the one by campus or the international wine center off Glenstone). Drink in hand, hunger in stomach, I ventured out into the throngs of hungry Peruanos equally as eager to get down on the best food the southern hemisphere has to offer.

My goal was not to buy the first thing I saw that looked delicious; rather, I wanted to take some time and check out the scene before I started smashing. This meant saying “no” to papas rellenas (potatoes filled with meat and spices, then deep fried), massive Peruano style hamburgers with a fried egg and French fries on top, lomo saltado, and more that left me salivating. After 20 minutes or so of wandering, I finally broke down and settled on an Adobo sandwich: shredded pork, homemade sweet potato chips, raw red onions marinated in lime juice, and aji, a spicy condiment made from tomatoes, aji peppers, cilantro, and onions. All of this in between two slices of fresh bread, polished off with a cold cerveza, and what you have is a sandwich that will leave vegetarians weak at the knees and begging for more.

Rightly satisfied, it was time to move on. In the center of the park, a parade of singers, musicians, and dancers in animal costumes attracted crowds of all ages to witness a Peruvian tradition of storytelling, while nearby painters of various skill levels worked on their latest masterpiece in desperate hopes of making enough money to afford some food in the joint. But I wasn’t here to witness giant man-pigs attack each other to Mariachi music, so I continued my pursuit for more. Alas, another diversion: the pisco tent. Wong, the main grocer here in Lima, sponsored this event, designed to allow visitors to try the different piscos sold at their stores while jamming to a live cumbia band. It took a mighty effort to sift through the dense crowd in search of more pisco, but I was determined. Stumbling out of the tent 45 minutes later, I declared the pisco tent a success and began my hunt for cebiche.

With David’s help, I found the cebicheria of my dreams, Sonia. Voted as the top cebicheria at Mistura 2009, I paid ten soles for a solid portion of cebiche and choclo. Sometimes, at events as large as this, you have to wonder about the quality of the food. After all, they have to mass prepare it all in advance, because the constant flow of hungry customers outnumbers the able hands preparing the food on the spot. Especially with cebiche, the difference between the freshly prepared and that which has been sitting out for a while is like night and day. Nobody likes to eat a soggy, chewy piece of fish swimming in lime juice. But I was not disappointed, and I tip my cap to Sonia for upholding their prestigious reputation.

The rest of the evening was spent wandering around without any preconceived notions, still looking to fill that empty void in my stomach. I split 10 rolls of sushi from EDO, a local sushi chain, with David and my other American roommate Wyatt. After dominating that plate, I heeded a recommendation from my hermano Peruano, Renzo, to check out Costañera 700, a restaurant famous for its pavo (duck). David and I split a plate of duck breast with a large portion of rice with vegetables that were cooked in the duck fat. I wouldn’t say it was a weight watchers approved meal, but it certainly hit the spot. I had never before tasted duck this juicy and tender. During our meal, the owner of the restaurant approached us with a big smile on his face and asked us how we liked it. After an emphatic “yes” from both of our full mouths, his smile grew even wider. After finishing, we shook his hand and thanked him again for the great food and even better hospitality. This man is the epitome of Peruano cooking; someone who takes such great pride in what he does, and is genuinely grateful when even a couple of scruffy Americans are willing to try his dish. He has been the lasting image of Mistura in my mind.

In a way, the end of Mistura was only the beginning. Since then, I have tried “exotic” dishes such as aniticuchos (cow heart which tastes like steak), cuy (fried guinea pig), tripa (cow intestines), as well as your more conventional dishes like carapulcra (a potato and pork stew with a peanut sauce and more vegetables), Chifa (basically Perú’s version of Springfield “Chinese” food, without all the deep fried meat and heavy, processed sauces), Quinoa (a native grain rich in essential amino acids and complete proteins) and pollo a la brasa, which is Peruano style braised chicken. And yet, I have only scratched the surface Perú’s culinary delights.

Anyone wanting to study abroad and are debating a host family versus independent housing or exchange student dormitories, let me tell you that host families are by far the best route to take, especially in a foreign language speaking country. Besides assisting me in learning the language, my loving host family, the Blossiers, feed me like a king. I mean, who doesn’t enjoy waking up to freshly made guacamole, fruit juice, eggs, and warm bread straight from la pastelería every morning? Myhost  mother, Carmela, and our housekeeper Sara share the lunch making duties throughout the week, and whatever they make, there’s enough of it to feed a small army. It’s customary here to make a big lunch and eat the leftovers for dinner, and with 8 hungry stomachs living in our casa, there is never any skimping on portion size. If I ever feel like trying something different, some food item that’s not in the house, it’s guaranteed that it will be within the next week. I just have to let madre know. For instance, just last night I made a passing remark to Carmela about how much I loved Thai curry, after noticing she had the spice stashed away in her cupboard. She had no clue that a sauce based with coconut milk and curry could taste so good (I think she’s still skeptical); regardless, Thai curry is now on next week’s menu.

But it’s nice to explore Lima’s eateries, whether it be at Oceanika (35 soles all you can eat sushi every Monday), Puntos Azules (grande portions of cebiche for cheap), a neighborhood market with freshly killed chickens hanging from the ceiling right next to a papaya stand, or just a street corner vendor selling freshly cooked meat on a stick. “Calle de las Pizzas” in the swanky district of Miraflores offers a diverse body of restaurants, especially ones known for their American-style pizza (duh), while the bohemian neighborhood of Barranco has its own “mini Mistura” per se every weekend, where local chefs sell tasty plates of food under a large tent in the main square.

In the U.S., we (or, at least, I) tend to assume that what we buy at the grocery stores is of the best quality possible, and what I have realized since taking my first bite here in Peru, it is anything but. I have learned that when purchasing your food, if you truly care about what you eat, don’t buy something that comes pre-packaged in a box at a store or in a bag from your local drive-thru employee just because it’s convenient. Buy quality, fresh ingredients and make it yourself, learn how to cook and learn how to love food. Culinary possibilities are endless, it just takes creativity and a reckless abandonment in your craft, a willingness to screw up bad so you can try it again and perfect your recipe (shallot butter wine sauce, anyone?).

So in conclusion, I’m far from starving to death. I know that there are hundreds of cities around the world know for their top notch cuisine, but very few are as diverse as Lima’s, whose various dishes draw from Chinese, African, Italian, and Japanese influences, as well as those from the Andean cultures high in the mountains. I have become a more conscientious eater, always finishing what’s on my plate; in part because I don’t want to risk offending those who worked hard to make my dish, and also because of the number of starving folks I see on the streets of Lima every day. We should all feel fortunate that we get to eat as well as we do in the United States, and that the most basic commodities like water, fruit and vegetables are so readily available to us. I used to work in a restaurant, and I frequented the Blair-Shannon dining hall back in the day. I know how much food we waste as Americans, and it’s a shame.

Be on the lookout for more blog posts, y’all. Until then, remember this: BE YOURSELF!

Chau amigos,
Samuel Cuervo