Gastronauts packed the house for a Peruvian feast at Urubamba.
For whatever reason I have been unable to attend the last five or six monthly Gastronaut dinners. This past Tuesday, however, I cleared my calendar for a Peruvian feast the club for adventurous eaters held at Urubamba in Jackson Heights. It was the cuy—roasted Andean guinea pig—that sold me on the evening’s festivities. I’d had the delicacy before and was eager to try it again.
“Is this your first time eating with The Gastronauts? Are you excited?,” a gent in a pork pie hat asked a gal at a table behind me. “Yes, very,” was her response. Even though it was my seventh time, I too was quite excited. Thanks to a recent New York Times article there was an even mix of newcomers, including Latin American cuisine expert Nicholas Gill of New World Review, and veterans, including Dan Kim who has written up several Gastronaut dinners for World’s Fare, both of whom shared my table.
Pulpo al olivo: thinly shaved octopus in Alfonso olive sauce.
The first course to be presented to the 80 diners was pulpo al olivo, ribbons of pleasantly chewy octopus tentacles slicked with a sauce made from Alfonso olives. Anyone who’s ever atsted aji verde at a Peruvian restaurant knows Peruvians pride themselves on their sauces. The maroon puree was no exception to this rule, tasting like a mellower, creamier version of the purple olive that graced the plate.
Rocoto relleno wore their tops like jaunty Peruvian berets.
Next up was a trio of rocoto relleno or stuffed hot peppers, each was roughly the size of an apple. I had no idea that hot peppers came that large. “The hat’s the hottest part,” Gill’s wife, Claudia, who’s from Lima, warned us before we dug in.
A look at the innards of the best stuffed pepper ever.
Inside each pepper was a delicious mixture of ground beef seasoned with culantro and raisins. It was truly one of the best stuffed peppers I have ever eaten and was a sure sign that the evening would be one to remember.
What Peruvian feast could be complete without ceviche?
Next up was ceviche de conchas negras, or black clam ceviche. The mollusks had been chopped up, marinated with onion, lime, and garlic and then poured back into their shells and placed on the plate with painstaking attention to detail. Cancha, crunchy toasted corn kernels, were great with the chewy, lime-spiked bits of conch.
Urubamba has a way with anticuchos, skewers of grilled beef heart.
The third course was a half dozen anticuchos, skewers of grilled beef heart marinated in panca chili. These were served with the starchy jumbo corn known as choclo and a small dish of green sauce. The green sauce didn’t do much for the meat, but the peppery orange aji on the table was just the thing. It brought out the smokiness while adding a bit of zip. Of the eight courses provided this was the only one that's on Urubamba’s regular menu.
Cuy fresh from the oven. Note the burnished skin.
Carlos E. Astorga, Urubamba’s chef, was kind enough to let me into the kitchen to watch the cuy being plated. Astorga has been chef since 1986 when he took over the kitchen from his mother back when it was still called Inti Raymi after the Peruvian sun god. The last time Astorga cooked such a feast was in February. He and his team seemed to be relishing the evening's task. The activity in the kitchen and dining room brought to mind a Peruvian version of the film Big Night.
Tastes like a cross between pork and rabbit.
Each table received a whole cuy to divide up. The flesh was slightly fatty and tasted like a combination of pork and rabbit. I had a bit of the saddle and some of a haunch. Then it was time for cuy guancial, the two strips of meat inside the jaw. The rest of the head wento to a lucky tablemate who picked it clean and saved the skull for a souvenir.
Patita con mani, a rich gelatinous stew of cow feet with potatoes.
As the next course, patita con mani was brought out the dining room was filled with a wonderful garlicky aroma. Who knew cow foot stew with peanut sauce could smell so good. Bobbing with potatoes, wobbly bits of chewy hoof, and peanuts this gelatinous stew spiked with garlic, chili, and herbs was quite hearty. It was good, but probably would have been more enjoyable on a winter night.
Pachamanca, a trifecta of slow-cooked meats—from left chicken, pork, and
lamb—liberally seasoned with huacatay or Peruvian black mint.
Traditionally pachamanca is cooked underground with hot stones. Rather than dig a hole in his kitchen Astorga used a pressure cooker. First he layered in the lamb, then a barrier of celery, then the pork, more celery, and lastly the chicken. Each of the meats was tender and juicy and singing with the flavor of Peruvian black mint, sort of a cross between basil and tarragon. Had I not been eating for the past two hours, I could have easily devoured the entire platter.
Picante de conejo, rabbit in chili sauce.
The last course was picante de conejo, or rabbit in a chili sauce served with boiled yucca. By this time I was practically passing out, but like all of the dishes this was outstanding. After three hours the epic Peruvian feast drew to a close. Many Gastronauts purchased alfajores, disks of short bread sandwiching a layer of dulce de leche before waddling out the door into the night.
The cost for the evening was $65, not such a bad deal for eight courses and a trip to Peru via Jackson Heights. Cuy is not on Urubamba's regular menu, but can be special ordered in advance for about $25, which is the going rate at other restaurants in the area.
Urubamba, 86-20 37th Avenue, Jackson Heights, 718-672-2224
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