Sometimes, I get things confused. And, I feel the need to send out at least a minor apology to the Roving Ravenous Horde for our 22nd outing. I got two restaurants backwards. You see, way back in 2006, Henry and I had trouped off to Primavera Trujillana, a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant in Belgrano that was basically the living room of the chef’s house. The experience we had there was mediocre to say the least. The next time I went back, it was solo for my “Chili Rabbit” search, in 2014. By then, they’d expanded throughout the house, turning into a full scale restaurant, and, at least based on that one dish, drastically improved – certainly the atmosphere had.
At some point during the last few months, I’d heard that the place had closed, moved, and reopened at 11 de Septiembre 3625, in Nuñez. But, here’s where the confusion came in, I mixed it up with the owner’s brother’s restaurant, Inka Wasi, which is just down the block from the previous location. And that’s a spot that we’d liked quite a bit, and have been back to quite a few times. Nonetheless, in my hazy recollection, I set up the lunch group to check out the new location. I’d have done so at some point anyway, but not necessarily booked it for the group. Then again, part of the idea behind this group is exploring and trying new things, so there.
Expanded again, it’s now probably close to double the size it was in Belgrano. The chili rabbit is no longer on the menu, which has reverted to much the same menu as at the very first place, though no longer limited as “possible dishes”, instead the whole thing is actually on offer. And no angry chef acting out from the kitchen. We were greeted cheerfully, service, by Marta Rios herself, was friendly and reasonably efficient. They still have the same quirk of being the only Peruvian restaurant I’ve ever been in where you have to ask for ajicito, the standard chili condiment on the table at most places. And theirs is pretty mild (though finally, later in the meal, we got them to puree up a rocoto chili and give us something spicier). They also serve bread, which isn’t a common thing in Peruvian restaurants.
To make it easy for the six of us, we just ordered a bunch of things to share. A passable papas a la huancaina – definitely needing some spice added. Ms. Rios made the point that Argentines just won’t eat anything spicy, so nothing on their menu is – that didn’t bode well. They also don’t make their huancaina sauce with any kind of nut in it, to avoid allergy issues (which was good for one of our members who is allergic to walnuts), but it means it’s basically a sauce of cheese, milk, bread, and some sort of aji amarillo, the yellow chili, but with all traces of spice removed. It might have even just been turmeric.
Tequeños, not a classic of Peruvian cuisine – more of Venezuelan – basically fried puffs of dough filled with goats’ cheese in this case, and accompanied by a guacamole. The ones that had cheese in them were pretty good, but not all of them did.
The best thing on the table, the anticuchos de corazón, marinated and grilled beef heart.
A ceviche made with lenguado, sole, but without any chili, was a bit of a yawn.
Given that the sauce for aji de gallina is basically the same huancaina just with onions and garlic added, this one was still on the bland side.
A seco de carne, strangely for someone from the north, from Trujillo, with rice and potatoes rather than rice and white beans. Still, not bad, and probably the second favorite on the table.
And, a pescado a lo macho, fried fish with a shellfish sauce, that was just humdrum, at best.
So, overall, like the new space, the service is fine, don’t get the complete aversion to using chilies – those days of locals not eating anything picante have dwindled drastically, and, unfortunately, food that’s just kind of average. Nothing bad, but nothing worth making a second trip there. Ah well.
[…] It has been eight years since we visited Primavera Trujillana, Franklin Roosevelt 1627 in Belgrano on the recommendation of a local paper. We weren’t impressed. My search for ajiaco con conejo led me to their “brother” restaurant, Inka Wasi, just down the block at #1695, where it was claimed, Marta Rios’ brother was turning out the best version in the city. Only they’re not, because they don’t have rabbit on the menu, and he sent me tromping down the block to his sister’s place because she’s the one who offers up the dish. Now, in the past octet of years, P.T. has undergone a complete transformation – no longer a living room in a house with a pass-through to the kitchen, the whole building has been redone as a full-on restaurant, with a far expanded menu (and, thankfully, no longer a hairy one). Here the dish is called picante de conejo, but it’s the same dish (which led me to further searching for that term, but not finding any other places offering it up under that name). And it’s quite good – not overly spicy, and strangely, I think this is the first Peruvian restaurant I’ve ever been in where you have to ask for “ají” rather than it just being on the table – but it was brought and perked the dish right up. Generous portion, well cooked. Avoid the place at weekday lunches when it’s flooded for a brief period by students from the high school across the street looking for a cheap “menu” – it’s like being in a high school cafeteria with the noise, throwing of food, attempts to skip out without paying, etc. Once they left, it was great, and the place is back on my list to check out more dishes down the line. ?? [Closed, reopened in a new location.] […]
[…] The menu is odd. First of all, I have to just say, I don’t like hairy things in restaurants, and I don’t just mean the food. Here, the menu is a small cardboard bound affair with a binding strip of something furry. It just put me on edge. Then you encounter the plasticized pages of the inner menu, listing dozens and dozens of items. We began to get interested, only to have that interest squashed by our waitress who told us that the menu is just a listing of “possible dishes” of the day – and then proceeded to cut our choices down to 3 appetizers, 2 meat entrees, and 7-8 fish entrees, as the only things they were equipped to make that evening. I’m all for the concept of a daily changing menu, I just don’t like the presentation in this case. But we got over it, ordered all three appetizers – ocopa, papas a la huancayina, and a tamal, followed by a plate of ceviche mixto. We also decided to try one of the two listed cocktails, a trago de algarroba, or “carob drink.” It turned out to be a blended affair of carob juice, pisco (Peruvian unaged brandy), milk, and egg white. Frothy, vaguely chocolately, and very alcoholic. The food, overall, was just acceptable, clearly nothing special. We both liked that the potatoes in the first two appetizers were served warm – quite often they’re served nearly refrigerator cold. The sauce on the ocopa was particularly good. The tamal was, at best, edible, first off being made of coarse polenta rather than properly ground Peruvian maize, and second off having very little filling – a couple of chunks of chicken and one olive, complete with pit. The ceviche was okay, though the fish and shellfish didn’t taste 100% fresh, and the “mixto” part consisted of a couple of scattered shrimp and mussels. Given that Primavera Trujillana is only a few blocks from Contigo Peru that we both enjoy quite a bit, and have taken friends to many times, it’s simply not interesting enough to return to. [Closed, reopened in a new location.] […]