Peru: Pollos Broaster Al Paso

As mentioned, I recently took a trip to Peru, visiting the Amazon area, Cusco, and Machu Picchu/Aguas Calientes… follow along as I show you everything I ate on my amazing trip!

The night before we were all set to climb Machu Picchu, the four of us headed over to Cicciolina for dinner.  I took pictures of the outside and was all set to have tapas and dinner with the group, but a glance at the menu revealed that sushi was one of the items.  A further glance down the menu revealed prices higher than I cared for; not that they were high, per se, but higher than the “cheap Peru” I was promised.  Part of me started twitching, and I recalled how a few days earlier, I’d requested one thing: I would go along with any plans made, but I did want at least one meal at a divey Peruvian place, perhaps one where the locals dined.  One that wasn’t mentioned in the guidebook, a place that I could talk about later and say either “Well, the food wasn’t that good, but I did walk into a place blindly,” or “Damn, that was amazing, I’m so glad I walked into that place not knowing a damn thing about it.”  My conscience niggled at me, because this was one of the last meals we’d have in Cusco, and I didn’t think I’d get another chance to go off on my own to eat whatever I stumbled upon. 

I managed to keep it internal, but part of me snapped, and I politely told HB & HBBF that I wasn’t interested in dining at Cicciolina tonight.  I excused myself, and bless his heart, BF of the not-particularly-adventurous-eaters (yes, I’ve downgraded him from unadventurous-eater after this trip, but not after this meal) not only joined me but encouraged me to find any place to content my heart with.  He gave me no restrictions – none whatsoever! – though he commented he really wanted to try Peruvian pizza, the place I eventually wandered into did not carry pizza, but he obliged my desire anyway. 

Pollos Broaster Al Pasa was actually around the corner from our hotel, and we’d passed by it a bunch of times.  It was pretty divey, and this was the entire menu. 

To try to give you an idea of the hole this place sat in, I took a picture of the door from across the street.  It smelled amazing – we passed by many broaster places, and they all smelled amazing – and a few days later, when I tried to go back for lunch, I walked by it about 3 times before realizing it must be closed, because with the doors closed, it was not a restaurant.  It was closed doors in the side of a building.  Like eating in someone’s living room or kitchen. 

Due to my horrible Spanish and BF not really paying attention (though I don’t think either of us understand fractions in Spanish anyway), I accidentally ordered the 1/8 chicken, not the 1/4 chicken.  I heard ‘four’ and thought she was saying 1/4 chicken… I guess she was saying 4.50 sols. 

After waiting a bit, this is what came (yes, I was kind of “hmm, that’s a 1/4 chicken?” but there was no point in ‘arguing’ or asking further questions since my Spanish is terrible and her English was near-non-existent).  If you look at the menu, it also mentions arroz chaufa which is fried rice, but she was probably annoyed that two people ordered one 1/8 chicken platter – I really thought I was ordering 1/4 and BF wasn’t that hungry, so we wanted to share one plate.  But I wasn’t mad when I realized I’d been “shafted” later.  Much later.  The fries were standard, not the greatest but edible enough.

The main point here was the chicken.  I’d thought it was roasted chicken – and somehow, this is – but the skin was super crispy, and the meat, oh the meat was so juicy and tender and DELICIOUS!  After I began eating, I couldn’t take pictures, but had I shown you the inside, you’d be booking tickets down to Cusco right now just so you could eat at every place claiming to make the same.  The juicy, tender, succulent meat had me blissfully closing my eyes and bouncing in my seat a little bit; I was in love.  I wanted more.  I managed to share with BF, who contented himself eating the fries I didn’t want, but we had a grand time eating in this tiny hole in the wall that boasted about 3 small tables. 

Ketchup and what I think was mayo – I drizzled this on the cabbage and ate it.  We didn’t get any green sauce, but I think if I’d remembered to ask, it probably would have been provided.  Neither BF nor I are huge fans of spicy, anyway, so it wasn’t missed. 

So the funny part of this comes a bit later.  While I was eating, facing the door (in the picture of the doorway, two tables are visible; we sat at the one on the left, and I faced the door), a young woman came in.  I was looking at her because she looked American to me (her clothes, honestly; she was wearing a hoodie over jeans, and something told me she was American), but she spoke Spanish fluently while she ordered, then glanced at me and we exchanged polite smiles.  A short while later, a stray dog wandered in and BF, who was fascinated this entire trip with the stray dogs around town who just lay about anywhere and crossed the street like it was their business, began petting him and trying to feed him.  Without thinking, I said sharply, “If you touch that dog, you can’t eat any more fries!” just like the Mother Hen I am to him.  The woman, who’d been seated and eating for a few minutes, glanced up at me and our eyes locked, and I apologized, “Sorry!” because I was a bit loud and also because I was embarrassed to be so… well, so me to BF in front of other people. 

(BTW, none of the dogs we encountered wanted to eat anything he gave them.  Bread, fried chicken, fries, whatever, these dogs were not interested.  I have to wonder what they were eating that was more awesome than fried chicken, though.) 

After a few more minutes passed, and BF was trying to pet the dog still, the young woman turned around and began talking to us.  Apparently she is from Boston and had lived in Buenos Aires for a few months doing volunteer work, and now was living in Cusco doing the same.  I thought that was awesome – seize opportunities like this when you can!!!  She was really cool, unfortunately we didn’t get her name or any contact info, I would have loved to see her pictures or ask her more about her volunteer work.  I did ask about local restaurants, but she said any chicken place (like the one we were sitting in) is usually good, but she hadn’t explored too much around the area yet since she ate with her host family quite a bit.  Awesome. 

And it was because of her that I realized we didn’t get everything in our menu.  Her platter came piled high with fried rice and chicken, which saddened me since BF loves fried rice, but it seemed pointless to ask about it, especially when we asked for the check, and she said “4.50 sols” – I was surprised that we’d ordered the wrong size since we’d been prepared to pay 8 sols (about $3USD) for what we received.  Instead, we were charged what equated to $1.64USD for the above.  BF gave the little girl helping her mom 8 sols anyway, which thrilled her – she was so happy and thankful, we felt a bit embarrassed – but the food was delicious, and BF and I were happy.  It was a fabulous meal, and… as I said in the beginning:

Damn, that was amazing, I’m so glad I walked into that place not knowing a damn thing about it.

Unfortunately, when I tried to go back a few days later – Saturday – with HB, the place was closed up tight.  Maybe it’s only open on weekdays or only for dinner?  I can’t be sure.  BF did point out later, when I was ecstatically telling HB and HBBF what they missed, that the restaurant wasn’t clean, but I didn’t see the roach he said was on the wall – but a dog was wandering in and out of the place, so clearly it isn’t the cleanest – but if I don’t see it, I’m okay… and the food was damn good.