Gardena was a little father from Peru than I'd hoped, but as it turns out, El Rocoto was pretty close. On the outside, this unassuming storefront sits stoically beside a bustling 99 Ranch Market, often sideswiped by a sea of Asian moms. On the inside, a frothy pisco sour brings me back to Cusco.
The first thing I learned in Peru is that there is always a reason to have more ceviche. And why settle for a single ceviche when you can try them all? The Piqueo Rocoto Del Mar comes with a classic Mixto, a melange of every ingredient in a crisp, classic leche de tigre. The Tuna Nikkei is a Peruvian poke of sorts, tuna cubes with avocado and a sauce that smells like sesame oil. The Pulpo Olivo is spattered with a lighter sauce, peppered by sweet Peruvian corn. The halibut in Aji Amarillo blows my mind with a creamy, spicy sauce. I make sure each slice of fish is well-coated, but I may have also sipped the sauce.
Sometimes they even have a special of half-halibut, half-fried-calamari doused in more amarillo. Something about how the soft fish flesh offsets the calamari crunch... I don't know why it works, but this combination was definitely winning.
I love the raw, but at some point I need a couple things cooked. The Antichuchos are thicker cut, but they still smell like the nighttime streets. There is something primal about ripping through the thick, beefy cuts while all the juices flow, and there is no shame in ripping through it kaleesi-style.
For an entree, the Seco De Cordero isn't quite as exciting as the ceviche, but the seco is far from dry. The mix of pureed cilantro and soft, gamey meat falls off the bone, into a rich pool of gravy-like jus.
They say that a lot of memories are made up by the mind and even more are falsely planted. But the mouth makes memories too, and those lie a whole lot less. But all memories get fuzzy with time so I'll be back to El Rocoto every time I need reminding.
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