The white veranda welcomed us with a Cocktail to calm the nerves. Calmer but no less star-struck, I sipped a light sangria-like gin, sweetened with gingery soda, lightened by carbonation. The accompanying Veggie Sandwich whets the appetite with a spread that tasted like sourdough paste on a cracker.
With salutations formally out of the way, we got a sneak-peek tour into the kitchen where our remaining 27 courses would be born, and I think I almost fainted when Diego Munoz shook my hand.
We sat down to a tin of temptations, starting with Lucuma Ice Cream, a fruity-cold concoction covered with milk chocolate and smooth hazelnut. The Camotitos is a savory, crispy chip, and the Charada are White-Oreo-meets-Nutter-Butter cookies filled with sweet and salty gooey-goop. The Meringue Kisses are a contrast of light sweetening of a surprisingly salty olive, little white puffs of tapenade.
The Barquillos come with hollow shells of Piroulline "egg-rolls" from the Chinese market filled with a red-spiced Middle-Eastern-esque yogurt.
My eyes saw the Garden Fruits, but I think I pulled a muscle in my brain trying to wrap my mind around this presentation. The giant, hollow ice cube has a barely-perceivable bore-hole where you sip a cool, light papaya-ish juice through a metal straw.
Enough with the light stuff, bring on the Patita, or suckling pig trotters. The festive crunch is like a cover of savory cornflakes decked out in florid flowers.
Grandma's Tortilla is a different flavor in every bite. One bite brings a pasty chickpea, another lets a bubble of delicate asparagus burst, and yet another spreads delicate caviar on the tongue.
Good food should always taste good, but to make it look too beautiful to eat is a talent often overlooked. The Raspadilla is an artisan’s arrangement, an ice-cold fresh vegetable version of a traditionally fruity soup.
The ladder of ripe Avocado, encounters various grains and seeds, a sampling of the stalls at the local market, finishing with a dollop of smooth sour cream.
This wouldn't be the first time someone put avocado with grains and seeds, but the Apple Ceviche is the ultimate combination of all the ingredients you know put together into something you barely recognize. Shaved apple tunnels make a labyrinth leading to uni with a light tuna foam on either end. The leche de tigre is barely detectable, adding a hint of flavor without disturbing a uni-que equilibrium.
The Pink Clam Chowder pays tribute to days gone by, a seafood broth dedicated to honoring the now-extinct pink clam. The flavor revival rejuvenates the senses as sweet chunks of fava beans and potato bring lightness to a briny broth.
Only the finest apothecary could have forged the Shrimp Ocopa, a somewhat strange smudge of soft cucumber with a heavy peanut paste.
Just as I was starting to wish for cooked filets of fish, the delicate flakes of Escabeche of Cojinova is delicate in its vinegary finish, topped with a stickily soy-ish sauce and just-barely-cooked petals of onion.
Astrid y Gaston does well with fine dining and high-end ingredients, but it was the simplicity of Mashed Potatoes with Fried Egg that blew me away. It's back to basics with an impeccably poached egg, delicately breaded and fried with an angel's kiss of crumbs and queso. This masterpiece of basic cooking sits on an ile-flottant of whipped mashed potatoes in a savory river of brown sauce.
I don't know what shambar is, but the Homage to Shambar is not too shabby. The solid block of brisket melts under a primal pork sauce thickened with lentils and beans.
I love seeing new techniques, but I could have done without the Pachamanca. The surrounding cuy is fatty like bacon gone soft, and the inside stuffing is so salty it's caustic. The sticky, starchy brown sauce definitely doesn't save it, and this is a tribute to cooking underground that probably should have stayed there.
Between a Potato Ajiaco and a Tongue showcases a creamy, meaty sauce between soft potato and tender tongue. Except the beef tongue is even softer than the potatoes and my mouth waters for the memory.
The Banana and Cheese is sweetness embittered by arugula puree. Fishing under the foam unearths crunchy, salty cheeseballs that taste surprisingly like Brazillian barbecue biscuits.
Dessert continues with Pomegranate Wars, a battle raging between gelatinous pomegranate jelly attacked by a pop-rock bomb that sizzles and fizzles in sumptuous style.
A golden Strawberry with Milk shines in creamy glory, covered by delicate pearls of condensed milk.
The U-Alianza is an exploding cylinder of ganache-y mazamorra morada combined with liquid-y white milk arroz con leche.
The Lima Blanquillos is subtly sweet selection of apricot and almond cake with almond ice cream, hand-in-hand.
I never expected whimsy from a place so serious, and the King Kong caught me off guard with its cuteness. His footprint is outlined in quick-melting choco-charcoal, the tufts of cotton-candy fur are just plain fun, and the jellied skyscraper has light layers of cookie that are great for dipping in ice cream.
The antique serving boxes are breathtaking enough, and the Real Chocolate Bar with Peanut Cocada are absolutely amazing. I don't even like coconut but these logs did convert me. The chocolate is impossibly soft and smooth, with a salted soft-shell that encases the perfect truffle.
I can eat like a bottomless pit, but 28 courses becomes a bit much. The Emollient in two soft textures is an impossible immersion that seems to reset the culinary clock. The hot green pulp stays separate from the cold pear-like white, but together they calm the food coma and make you forget how much you ate.
There is a reason Astrid y Gaston stands strong at #18 on the list of the world’s best restaurants. Twenty-nine is a pretty big number to remember, but every bite was exquisite, and I’ll never forget a taste of “Memories of My Trip to Peru”.
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