Central – Miraflores, Lima

Before I could even start to write about the life-changing tasting menu at Central, I literally had to Google over 75% of the ingredients on the menu. I’ve traveled a good amount, and I often joke that Asians will eat anything, but still I couldn’t even begin to process half the things I ate at Central.

I knew I was out of my element when the server brought out the first dish, Spiders on a Rock and immediately instructed me not to eat the decorative rock. I figured out what I was actually supposed to eat, and it was amazing. The limpet snail is soft and smooth, and the seafoam flavor with a spry sprig of sargassum definitely didn’t taste limp.

The High Altitude Rainforest is by far the most beautiful dish I've ever eaten, mini-bloom logs on a frozen forest floor. The smoked duck is only a smear, but the wood smoke permeates every bite. The yacon crunches like jicama, with a freshly light and fragrant. I can't see the sapote but I can sense the sweet, and the nasturtium adds a little perk.

The River Scales are pretty in pink sangre de grado, an accent to the salty, chewy slices of gamitana and river snails laying on a leafy green riverbank.

The Andean Plateau is the star of the show, a very dark chocolate-esque combination of black herbs dotted with a nutty annato. And what Andean combination would be complete without a potato? Here they sneak in some fluffy tunta chips.

The coca leaf bread is a crispy crust with a soft center. The burnt coca leaves add a bitter edge.

It's hard to pick a favorite in this incredible menu but if I had to, I’d go with the Marine Soil. The sweet cucumber is suavely shaved like the most delicate honeydew, blanketing a tender bed of impossibly-tender razor clams with just the right hint of brine.

I love scallops, but in the Harvest and Collection, the lettuce steals the show, and the tiniest sprinkle of granadilla makes it linger.

The Low Andes Mountains transitions to a heartier theme. Earthy quinoas add texture to an impossibly soft veal topped with dried shavings of heart. A brilliant red airampo adds a festive blush to the quinoa green, and the elements are pulled together by a milk so thick it stayed put when poured.

The Lake Floor chicken had me floored. It sleeps silently in a bed of mashed moraya, blanketed by a more pungent huamanripa. Perhaps the most interesting element of this dish is the cushuro, slippery little sourballs of Andean cyanobacteria.

The chaco clay crumbles but creams together at the first exposure to moisture, playing if the cooler notes of lucuma, a dry-flesh fruit with the taste of maple and sweet potato. Combined with a rich cacao mousse, the Green Highlands have a blend of the valley greens and mountain browns that took me right back to Lares.

The Valley Between the Andes is the final dessert between the table and the door. It starts with a lose bundles of kiwicha reminiscent of the Andean Plateau stars and triangles of cacao dusted with a nutty hint where the Sacha inchi sows its seeds. The cool green balls of sanki finish light like dragon fruit.

Just when your stomach is about to give up, the Solar Mucilage is a soft, sweet solution of O.I. water, cacao, and something slightly sweet.

At the ripe old age of 37, chef Virgilio Martinez Veliz is a true wunderkind. I've been to several Michelin star restaurants and not a single one came close. His cuisine is new, it's innovative, and it challenges everything I had ever preconceived. The novel ingredients excite the palate and awaken the mind. With every bite the flavor bouquet changes, and each chew brings forth something new. The Amazon had always been a mysterious place, and it seems like Central is unearthing that mystery, one innovative ingredient at a time.