Derek and I both have this weakness. We have to eat out, or at least order take-out at least once a week. Usually not more than that, but usually not less. I like to have a break from cooking, and he needs a break from dishes.
So on Saturday, when he got back from camping with the Scouts, he told me about this Peruvian restaurant he wanted to try. Two of the guys on the campout were from Peru, so he had asked them what they thought of the Peruvian restaurant that we used to go to sometimes. They both said it was terrible, and that there was a new one that was way better. So he got all excited and asked them what was good there. He doesn’t speak Spanish, so they made him memorize a couple of names of dishes they like.
We are both pretty adventurous when it comes to trying new things, and we’re both food snobs, too. We like everything, as long as it’s authentic. (I cannot stand to go to a place that calls itself Mexican and is really more like Taco-Bell. It makes me feel violent inside.) We like spicy food, so we’re really not afraid of that aspect. We both served missions for our church where we had to eat things that were not your typical American fare. I have had pigs intestines, brains, boiled skin, chicken heads, intestines, feet, fish eyeballs, fertilized duck eggs (with a little baby chick in there) and some sort of burrowing beetle. So I can take surprises, usually. Not that I want to go back to any of that.
Anyway, we were pretty excited to have REAL Peruvian food, something exciting that we’d never tried before. Maybe something that we’d go back for another day, since the selection of good restaurants in our town is kinda small.
Derek called them to make an order, and was heartened to find out that they spoke not a lick of English. He ordered Sachi Papas, and Pollo a la Brasa. The other thing he was supposed to order was some kind of drink, but the person taking the order just couldn’t understand his accent, so he gave up.
He drove to the restaurant to pick up the food, happily noted a Peruvian-looking family leaving the building, and came straight back without even peeking. When he got home, he came right in to Kiki’s room, where I was feeding her. Cue dramatic music, as he slowly opens the first Styrofoam container with the Sachi Papas, and sees… French Fries with sliced Hot Dogs. And three suspicious looking dipping sauces. He burst out laughing, as I sat dumbfounded. Authentic Peruvian French Fries? That had been steaming in the Styrofoam, and were now exceptionally soggy. They weren’t even homemade fries, just the frozen ones that every fast food place has.
On to the Pollo a la Brasa. A full leg of a chicken, complete with drumstick, thigh, backbone, all that congealed brown stuff under the backbone, and even the chicken bum. You know, that thing your Grandma call the “parson’s nose.” The thing you never see in your package of boneless/skinless. The thing that has a tailbone, a bunch of squishy fat, and some skin where you can still find a few tail feathers, if you look hard enough. On top of another pile of soggy, now very greasy Sachi Papas. And a small, soggy, greasy bunch of iceberg lettuce with mayonnaise on top. And a slice of winter tomato. (I’ll save the winter tomato rant for another day.)
I think Pollo a la Brasa is some sort of traditional spit-roasted street-vendor fare. And you guessed it, it tasted like it had been roasted at the side of a very busy, diesel fumey congested street. With a very strong hint of campfire. And some extra grease poured on top. Derek is bone-phobic, so I got to pick all the meat off. Because, yes, we still ate it. And then we were sad.
I told Derek he needed to give those boys a lickin’ at church the next day, but he forgot. He was too busy trying to think of creative ways to teach the dangers of pornography to a bunch of squirming 12 and 13-year-olds. (We made some phony doggy-doo with peanut-butter candy and lots of food coloring, put it in a zip-lock bag, and put that in a gift-wrapped box with a bow on top. The lesson being that it may look nice and inviting at first, but it’s really just a bunch of crap that you don’t want in your house or your mind.)
So I don’t think we’ll ever go to that restaurant again. Nor will we take culinary recommendations from any 12-year-old boys, no matter where they’re from. They may be nice kids, but jeez!
March 26, 2007 at 4:50 pm
Well, I was riveted! For a few reasons…Derek always does the dishes?? And next, you get to eat out or take out once a week?? I am VERY jealous.
P.S. my hubby teaches the deacons too!
March 26, 2007 at 8:24 pm
yeah, he’s in there doin’ em right now. he’s a good one. and yes with the eating out, but hi, I don’t get to go surfing. 😉
March 27, 2007 at 5:15 am
This could so happen to my hubby and I, we’re making it our personal mission to try any interesting looking restaurant in a 30 mile radius from our house. I’ll have to watch out for the authentic Peruvian hotdog dishes.
PS: linked ya from DYM, I figured if you thought the pigs feet thing was funny you were good people…
March 27, 2007 at 11:41 am
You are very entertaining and open. I would read an article in a newspaper or magazine from you. You sure have a talent in this area, and of course you have a great husband who would do anything for you.
March 27, 2007 at 2:05 pm
Erm… gick! Still cringing over the description of the Pollo and it’s “nose”.
I’ve eaten chicken like that. Today is not a day to REMEMBER the experience! Bleah!
March 30, 2007 at 10:10 am
That is so sad about the “authentic Peruvian food”; I could feel your pain as I read the post. To me there’s nothing more tragic than an opportunity to eat out being destroyed by a bad restaurant.
Derek does the dishes on HIS OWN WILL?!? How did you manage to get that set up going?!?! Please, I’d love to know so I can train my hubby. (he does selective dish-washing: i.e. only when I specifically TELL him to wash the dishes, and even then the big things like pots and large dishes are always mysteriously unwashed the next morning)
March 30, 2007 at 10:30 am
I don’t remember what I had cooked, but once, while we were engaged, Derek said, “If you’ll always cook for me, I’ll always do the dishes.” So he’s pretty good about it, but not perfect. I still do dishes a few times a week, but mostly, I let them pile up until they’re all dirty, then Derek does them. I don’t know what to tell you about Alex. I grew up in the same house as him, and none of us ever did dishes unless there was mortal peril threatened.
May 13, 2007 at 1:29 am
Sorry you had a bad experience with your first foray into Peruvian, I promise, it’s much better than what you got…
June 11, 2009 at 12:02 pm
Hopefully next time you will find a good restaurant.
September 18, 2010 at 1:30 pm
A — It’s probably MODERN Peruvian food that kids get (Peruvian fast food…) But that’s just my guess.
B — Did you try it? Can’t see how you can talk bad about it if you did.
I found this story while LOOKING for the recipe for sachi papas. If you tried it you’ll find it tastes awesome. French fries, shredded chicken, fried sliced hot dogs, melted cheese, the sauces… It’s addictive. As to the sauces, you HAVE TO HAVE THEM ON THE DISH. The two served where I go are rosado (something a bit similar to 1000 Island dressing) and a pineapple sauce. Use both, mix it in, then dig in. If you didn’t try it this way then try again. It is sooooo good.
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