Indulge in some soulful, satisfying Peruvian food

Published by the Hudson Reporter 1/11/05
The Dining Companion
By Andrea Clurfeld

Amarilles is the kind of restaurant that jams you up at the mouth: You leave positively dying to talk about its rustic, thoroughly absorbing Peruvian food, but what do you shout about first? Something as simply stunning as the Peruvian corn, with its big, meaty kernels? Maybe the tangy ceviche, rousing with its backdrop of lime juice and chilies? Or perhaps the rice that's just a side show to a cheerful chicken dish, yet intrigues endlessly because it's cooked in beer (of all things) and has a flavor unlike any rice you've ever had before?

So you find yourself stuttering and stammering, desperate to get out a word, any word about this small, yet subtly sophisticated restaurant in South River owned by the amiable Cuiffardi family. Aw, just keep it to yourself a little while longer, and give yourself enough time to eat your way through Cuzco's concise menu of classics -- dishes that don't so much push the envelope as they do introduce you to the homey basics of a cuisine that's stood in the shadows of its more boisterous South American cousins.

Amarilles's Peruvian food is soulful and satisfying, not fussy or fancy, but refreshingly honest. Scan the menu and edit in the fundamental favorites you must try: something potato, something raw fish, something steak, something sensuously seafood. It's laid out clearly but, should you find yourself befuddled, chances are one of the Cuiffardis will be around to help you choose. Worse comes to worse, let yourself be soothed for a spell by the spare, yet warm scene: Deep, dark terra-cotta walls sport tastefully taken and framed black-and-white photos. Crisp white linens are laid atop the tables. Small hanging lamps softly light the modest storefront. The design, by one of the Cuiffardi children, naturally, is decidedly downtown, but minus even a smidgen of attitude. If you've been touring the Shore's newest always-shakin' hot spots, both Cuzco and South River will come as a blissful respite. Suddenly, you've got quite the appetite.

Good earthy tastes
Dig into the Peruvian tamals, one of the world's greatest comfort foods. The ground corn, gently mealy and earthy, is layered with shreds of chicken, not an overpowering force, but an accenting one. It's the way to go in this genre. The mixed-fish ceviche, with its hunks of moist fin and shellfishes, is not counterpointed merely by the rush of lime juice and hot chilies, but also by a splay of onions that have been marinated to defuse any bitterness and hunks of sweet potatoes that stand ready to douse heat. It's here, on this generous plate of ceviche , that you'll first meet the Peruvian corn-on-the-cob, which the Cuiffardis bring in from South America. It looks like corn on steroids, but tastes more like a meaty cooked bean: Not sweet, not juicy-crisp, it serves almost as a bread to the palate, neutralizing the tastes it accompanies and setting the taste buds up for more, more, more.

Potatoes could not be better served than by the highly seasoned, chile-licked cheese sauce that blankets them in papa a la huancaina, a starter that could stand as the Official Dish of Winter. Who says potatoes have to be side-dish also-rans?

Chicken cooked in a cilantro-rich sauce sounds simple, right? And it is. The bird is moistened and invigorated by the spunky herb, as is the rice that's mounded on the side. But that rice is cooked in beer, and it adds a whole other kind of earthy, slightly yeasty dimension to the plate, as do the lemon-marinated onions strewn atop the chicken. It's the kind of dish, I think to myself as I eat, that I want to cuddle up with on a Sunday evening. So is the mild sea bass, cooked so slowly in a stew of tomatoes and onions that it almost dissolves upon contact with the tongue.

Yucca it up
Flank steak, a Peruvian staple, is well rendered, served as it is with a colorful fried egg, skinny spuds and plantains. Make sure you snag a side order of fried yucca, however: It comes with a zinger of a chile-marigold sauce that lights up both the starchy root and the faces of those eating it.

You don't have to choose between two puddings when it comes time for dessert at Cuzco, since the kitchen gladly will stuff a bowl with both the creamy, homey rice pudding and the exotic purple corn pudding spliced with shards of quince. Neither are to be missed. The flan, sweet and quite nearly juicy, is a natural accompanied by caramel-stuffed cookies prettily dusted with powdered sugar. Finales aren't fancy here, but they don't short-change the diner on satisfaction.

Which could be Amarilles motto. Fuss doesn't fit in here. What does is food that assuages both a hunger and a need for something new, yet not unsettling. On target and unaffected, Cuzco is the young year's first bull's-eye.