Clandestine Cuisine: this is the experience of eating at the Lima restaurant where dinner is served in the chef’s own home

In times of rip-offs, making a reservation for an experience that doesn’t have a recognizable physical location requires some trust, an ingredient that chef Hans Pueller conveys perfectly when he welcomes us – the next night – under the entry threshold. from your kitchen, which is no other place than your own home.

The first glance gives us a feeling of everyday life, as if it were the home of an old friend. The dining room on the left, the living room on the right, while a well-stocked bar serves as a circulation area towards the hall where my partner and I will try “Journey without censorship”, one of the four seven-course tasting menus that make up the letter.

The flavors on the table

“Today we have a full house,” chef Pueller tells us. before beginning a journey that goes from table to table with special emphasis on the last diners to arrive. Not long after, all the speculations about the distribution dissipate: the environments are conveniently distant so that attention is differentiated and the thread of conversations maintains its discretion. Soon, too, we perceive that the “full house” is made up of between twenty to twenty-five people, which does not in the least affect the atmosphere that is established in each group.

“Today I’m going to do something around the house. It’s not grandma’s crazy thing, this time it’s going to have a sweet delicacy. This is my proposal. “My wife and I are going to serve you with a lot of love,” the host continues upon his return to the space where, until a few seconds ago, we were observing, enthralled, how the traffic that is born and dies in the kitchen intensifies. Almost at the precise moment in which we realize that we are not at all fond of locro, a pair of appetizers composed of a mixture of the main ingredients of the seven courses is brought to us.

What in concept could be presumed to be an uneven crossing is exactly the opposite. The “Journey Without Censorship” appetizer is as colorful as it is harmonious, but you don’t have to be an expert to assume that it is the product of hard work that modestly takes care not to repress or exaggerate the edges of each flavor.

This exhibition also marks the beginning of the revelation of the daring spirit that would be perceived in the following times. An example of this is the consistency of the panko cassava fritters with sauce or the creamy quality of the -unjustly maligned- locro, which, combined with caramelized fish, have invited us to rethink the nature of the mix of inputs of which we already have concepts. firm.

The drinks deserve a mention alone. Both the gin with camu camu and pineapple (called “Secret Doctrine”) and the very well-made mix of Andean herbs with pisco (“Qosqo”, which can even be enjoyed with a small ritual) allow you to risk trying the signature cocktails of the which no repentance is expected. Thus, chef Hans Pueller, a psychologist by profession and a long career as a choreographer in the world of entertainment, boasts with proven reasons that the creations that happen in Cocina Clandestina are the product of travel experience, of the work to deepen the knowledge of underexploited aspects of its ingredients and, above all, the desire to risk finding novelty in what the rest see as habit.

The arrival of the smoked squid with acebichado chimichurri and the “Hidden sea and jungle rice”, which consists of a mixture of marine food and Amazonian cuisine, reinforce what has been said about the daring around juxtaposed flavors, while the host undertakes a new tour in search of first impressions of the menu.

The origin of a different

Regina Collazos, head of the kitchen and Pueller’s wife, greets us and details how Ahumar, her previous restaurant, was forced to close due to the pandemic. That difficult episode during the health crisis resulted in several of his friends writing to them with the purpose of visiting them and continuing to taste their dishes, so, upon insistence, they decided to serve small groups at their home. Such was the success of the premise that the rebirth of his gastronomic business happened almost without asking for it. “You have to create a hidden kitchen, you have to do something clandestine,” they agreed. There was even a name.

As we delve into the talk, the frenzy of dishes and drinks has not abated in all areas of the house. A crispy olive-olive chalaca seafood, with the appropriate accompaniment of a Creole chili, in addition to the capresse pasta with prawns that serves as the sixth course, warn of notable signs of complete satisfaction. This contravenes the stigma that gourmet cuisine carries regarding fair and necessary portions because, as an unsolicited confession, we initially thought about the possibility that what we had for dinner would not be enough, as happens with other experiences. This time it won’t be necessary.

The dessert, a nice banana mousse in dulce de leche and chocolate, closed the surprising staging of a place that, although it carries a surreptitious halo with its name, then complies with offering an honest proposal based on originality, personality, and good and fast attention. The virtue and the risk, perhaps, could go in the sense of the large number of ingredients used or the conservatism of some diner, without that making a dent in the recommendation that the place deserves.

Thus, almost two hours have passed since we arrived and it is no longer difficult for us to believe that from the street there is not even the slightest presumption of the experience that is lived in the house of chefs Pueller and Collazos. In the final passage of our conversation we were allowed to know that their future plans lie in the gastronomic training of other chefs in order for them to open new clandestine kitchens, which leaves me wondering if the success of the proposal can be replicated. since a good part of it also lies in the talents and presence of its original creators.

For the rest, it is possible that the frequency of visits, ‘word of mouth’ or that one or another ‘foodie’ ends up revealing where Cocina Clandestina is located. It will be at that moment, then, that the secret becomes anecdotal and gives way to all the other skills of this creation to shine. As we leave, we pass by a table where a family is singing “Happy Birthday,” reminding us that there is no place like home. And that’s what Cocina Clandestina knows well.