Do You Like Peruvian Food?

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Do you like Peruvian food?

I don’t.

Tried it again and again and have always wondered what all the shoutin’s about.

Peruvian food is like Cuban to me: it always sounds more attractive in the abstract than in the eating.

Starch on starch on starch. Thick, raggedy-cut fish tossed with lime and onions. Huge chunks of corn (see above). Giant clunky stir-fries full of negligible appeal and imprecise seasoning. Peruvian food is starchier than a priest’s collar, with all the subtlety of a hominy-coated anvil.

It’s like Peruvians took the best of Asian techniques and combined them with a Brazilian’s sense of restraint, which is to say no restraint at all.

Remember when Peru was going to be the next big culinary thing? Well, that lasted right up until a few journalists actually ate the food. After one meal they couldn’t waddle back to their keyboards, so there went the revolution.

But let’s be fair: the food of Peru is tasty. Even if you don’t like eating Guinea pigs.

Image(Pretty cheesy paella)

And it’s filling. And it is the birthplace of all sorts of fruits and vegetables ( e.g. potatoes, avocados, peppers) the world now takes for granted.

And Peruvians are wonderful people. I’ve never had anything less than stellar, friendly, patient service in a Peruvian restaurant…as the staff tries patiently to explain to me why they’re serving potatoes on the same plate with huge, starchy chunks of corn with rice and bread.

Let us also not forget that Las Vegas’s best artisanal bakery — Bon Breads — was started by über-Peruvian Carlos Pereira, and a more passionate, amiable and talented baker you will never meet.

Carlos is always threatening to take me to Peru, and one of these days I’m going to take him up on it. Because I’m sure that Peruvian food, in its native habitat, is much more refined, and much less reliant on bludgeoning your taste buds into submission with carbohydrates.

In the meantime, though, I’m writing this for all of you who actually like Peruvian food, and maybe have yet to discover Lima Limon — a tucked-away bastion of the Andes quite popular with ex-pat Incas and other favorite sons of Machu Picchu.

Image(Come to Papa)

To be honest, I actually enjoyed my meal at LL. The Papa a la huancaina (above) were the perfect salve for a growling stomach — tender. waxy potatoes were coated with a slightly spicy cheese sauce that glistened like a yellow silk blanket. If things had stopped there, or with a few bites of tart ceviche, I would’ve left a happy man.

But I was here on an invitation, you see. From a fan. Someone who really likes Peruvian food. He’s also twice my size and can park a whole order of lomo saltado like he’s nibbling on a Triscuit.

So, off to the races we were. The aforementioned ceviche was followed by a seafood (mainly shrimp) paella that made up for in rib-sticking what it lacked in delicacy. To its credit, at least it wasn’t smothered in cheese. Peruvians love to smother their seafood with cheese. In this case, the cheese was incorporated into the rice.

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If that weren’t enough, our table was soon groaning under thick strips of that lomo saltado, (above) served on a bed of french fries, along with another platter of thick strips of chicken served on a bed of french fried…with rice (below).

To be fair, the rice was damn tasty, as were the fries. The meat was of decent quality and obviously cooked by a pro, and even the shrimps showed themselves to best effect. To conclude, you will eat well at Lima Limon, even if the cuisine sometimes feels thick, clumsy and artless.

Image(Starchier than a priest’s collar)

On the plus side, those potatoes alone are worth a trip, and it beats the pants off of Cuban food.

And you won’t be hungry for at least three days.

Our feast for three that could’ve fed eight came to $80.

LIMA LIMON

222 South Decatur Blvd.

Las Vegas, NV 89107

702.463.0002

 

TRÉS CAZUELAS is the Best Restaurant You Haven’t Been To

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At first glance you might think Trés Cazuelas has the worst location in town.

But what seem to be liabilities are actually assets.  Yes, it’s tucked into a corner of a worn out building that houses the Sand Dollar Lounge and not much else. True, it faces an industrial side street only used by commercial trucks and crafty cab drivers. And of course there is zero bustle and no buzz in the neighborhood. Curb appeal is negligible; pedestrian traffic nil.

But look again, pilgrim. The Strip is only a half-mile east; Chinatown’s food mecca beckons a quarter mile west. Large open windows face that street, and behind them something cozy and comforting this way comes. Parking is a breeze (you pull up right to the front door), and as soon as you step inside, smells of moles, chipotles, and achiote waft over you.

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The place is tiny — no more than 40 seats — but the tables are well set and sturdy, the chairs are comfortable, and the vibe is as if you’ve found the coziest cantina on a Guadalajaran side street.

Fresh-made warm chips and three dips (spicy mayo, pickled onions, and habanero chile-mix, above) greet you, and it takes about three seconds to forget all about the industrial park outside.

Image(Great food while you’re getting your brakes re-lined across the street)

Decisions are easier at lunch than dinner. You can opt for burrito stuffed with al pastor pork or eggs or chicken or one of the usual suspects, or (our choice) head straight for the rotating cast of cazuelas (cauldrons) that change everyday.

Image(I like my food in threes)

Monday finds your cute little trio of bowls filled with tinga de pollo, longaniza en salsa verde, and bistec en chile pasilla, while Wednesday (above) presents fork-tender pork ribs in ancho chile sauce, green mole chicken, and strips of beef amplified by beans, bacon and pepper. You really can’t go wrong with any of these guizados (braised meats), and three of them for $15 is a steal.

And did I mention that the house-made corn tortillas are worth a visit all by themselves?

Image(The best, Jerry. The best!)

Dinner is where this minuscule kitchen punches way above its weight. You will start with guacamole tinged with habanero (above) because it might be the best in town. From there you can’t go wrong with any of the tapas or apps.

We were partial to the garlicky gambas al ajillo, queso fundido, and organic beet carpaccio, but other beauties like a single lamb chop “moruño” (redolent of cumin and coriander), a nice (if small) crabcake, and roasted corn (off the cob) “esquites”, all compete for your attention. The very Spanish papas bravas also do owner Angelo Reyes’ Latin heritage proud, as do his Churrasco Argentino (short rib skewers), and a tart, chunky mahi mahi ceviche.

Image(Positively pulchritudinous paella)

Main dishes are large and mostly meant for sharing — whether you’re getting more of those lamb chops, or diving into a clay pot roasted chicken perfumed by rosemary-garlic sauce, or tucking into more seafood paella (above) than any four-top can handle.

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A rib eye “Del Torero” (above) is the most expensive thing on the menu ($39), and comes shingled with garlic chips and coated with chimichurri — both announcing the “no prisoners” approach this kitchen takes with its seasonings and spices.

Which is why you come here. Not for some namby-pamby attempt to make Latin cuisine(s) palatable for gueros — these Hispanic dishes strut their stuff, smacking you left and right with garlic, herbs, chilies and spices in full flower.

If Trés Cazuelas has anything in common with its Chinatown neighbors, it is in the honesty and integrity of its cooking. You might as well ask Chengdu Taste to dispense with Szechuan peppercorns as wanting Reyes to dial back the cilantro. This is they way these dishes are supposed to taste, and if you don’t like it, adios muchacho.

The dense flan comes sprinkled with Mexican sea salt, and the coffee, by LaVazza, is excellent as well. The wine list is short, well-chosen and well-priced.

So why haven’t you come here yet, gringo? Because it’s tucked into a next-to-nothing building on a forlorn corner on the cusp of Chinatown? That’s no excuse. If you love pan-Latin cooking the way they’re supposed to be, and can’t resist a great tortilla, and are tired of dumbed-down, warmed-over verdes and pathetic pasillas, then you owe it to yourself to get here pronto.

Lunch for two will run around $30-40; dinner about double that. Despite what the sign says, they no longer serve breakfast.

TRÉS CAZUELAS

3355 W. Spring Mountain Road #35

Las Vegas, NV 89102

702.370.0751

Tapas, Tapas, Tapas…and Paella!

Viva España!

Remember when Spanish food was going to be the next big thing in America? We’re talking about 25 years ago when Jaleo first opened in Washington D.C..

Or maybe it was when Ferran Adrià made such a big splash with El Bulli around the turn of the century. Everyone couldn’t wait to get on that deconstructed bandwagon, could they?

Or how about Cafe BaBaReba? It was damn tasty (in the Fashion Show Mall, if you’ll recall), but came in the early aughts and left after five years.

Or perhaps you remember the excitement when José Andrés opened The Bazaar in Los Angeles in 2008? Back when his molecular cuisine was going to take America by storm? How did that work out?

Or how about when the opening of our very own Jaleo (in The Cosmopolitan) signaled an expansion of all things España in 2011? (Once again, the food was great; but the forecast fizzled.)

All of these (accompanied by breathless food writer prose) presaged a Spanish revolution in American eats. In hindsight they amounted to more false starts than at a track meet for the deaf.

But 25 years after one, 10 years after, another and 7 years after the last prediction, Spanish food is finally sweeping Las Vegas off its feet.

And by “sweeping off its feet” I mean Las Vegas now has more tapas than you can shake a pinxtos at.

Overnight (and by “overnight” I mean the last two months), we have seen three (count ’em 3!) Spanish-style joints open up in the neighborhoods — and they’re all very different from one another. And they’re all great.

So let’s count the ways Spain is finally conquering our food scene, beginning with the most traditional of the armada.

The first thing you notice about Pamplona Tapas & Wine is how nice it looks. Tucked into one of those generic strip malls  on west Sahara, it occupies a space that has housed several failed food operations — all of them done on the cheap and none of them lasting for more than a year or two. Owner Marisol Crespo also owns the shopping center in which it is located, and her attention to detail informs the comfortable surroundings, and the intimate cocktail bar, each of which beckons you as soon as you leave the commercial environs of the street behind. She also had the good sense to put Errol LeBlanc behind the stoves, and his decision to hew closely to the classic flavors of Spain makes PT&W your essential first stop on any tapas tour.

You’ll want to grab a cocktail from the small-but-mighty list, or a sangria that takes a back seat to no one’s. Then you’ll move over to a table with proper linens on it, and dive into a menu that would be right at home in Madrid.

(Shameless book plug/ELV approved tortilla)

Start your meal with whatever they suggest, but don’t miss the jamon serrano on crusty bread, or the spicy sobrasada sausage spread. (I also like the Spanish cheeses they serve, which are pretty much the same cheeses they serve at every Spanish restaurant, but I don’t like them so much I want to fill up on them.) Move on from there to some Peruano snapper ceviche with piquillo peppers, and then buckle your seatbelt for the most authentic versions of aceitunas (olives), patatas bravas (baby potatoes), setas al ajillo (mixed mushrooms with lots of garlic), and piquillo relleno de queso de cabra (roasted, stuffed peppers), and a tortilla Español (pictured above)that Las Vegas has ever seen. Not to take anything away from Julian Serrano (the chef or the restaurant) or José A., but once you’ve tasted these versions, there’s no reason to endure the indignities of the Aria or Cosmopolitan hotels again to get your bite of Spain.

As you move through the menu, the hits keep coming: croquetas de pollo that are as good as Jaleo’s; paella Valenciana (with rabbit and quail) that’s better than the one at Julian Serrano (the restaurant), and gambas al ajillo that is guaranteed to drive away all vampires:

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Garlic is to Spanish food what butter is to French, so gird your loins for some of the most pungent dishes you’ve ever experienced. This is not to say the dishes are bereft of subtlety (LeBlanc knows how to balance his flavors), but only to give fair warning that sharing is essential unless you want to knock your partner over with your breath later in the evening. They also do a fine job with all of their plancha’d, grilled and skewered meats here — with the honey-glazed pork belly and finger-licking-good lamb chops the ones not to miss.

About the only thing I can’t recommend about Pamplona is the wine list. It looks like an afterthought, or, even worse, the handiwork of some wine salesman who threw it together on his way to a bigger account. In this era of so much interesting wine coming out of Spain, Portugal and South America (at all price points) its meager selection does no justice to either the food or the atmosphere. And even though no one’s going to drink it but me, there should be several sherries offered by the glass.
But I’ll happily look past the Woodbridge chardonnay and the forgettable Cali cabs for another Juan Carlos Garcia cocktail or his sangria:
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(Tapas are priced between $5- $15, with the paellas for two (which can be nicely split four ways) running around $40.)
PAMPLONA COCKTAILS & TAPAS
5781 W. Sahara Ave. #100
Las Vegas, NV 89146
702.659.5781
(This is the first part of a three-part article. Here is a tasty snap to give you a preview of what’s to come.)