Wednesday. Hanzo.

There is a lot of good food in Peru. Not even just good food- good flavor. They make OUR food better than we do. Sauces aren't like ketchup or tobasco. They don't just add sweetness or heat: they add a whole additional level of taste. Aji is my new favorite thing. Made of yellow peppers and mustard. It's sweet and spicy and once you put it on food, you're not eating rice with Aji. You're eating a completely different foodstuff.

But Wednesday knocked everything out of the park. Paulo, our hermanito/ translator/ tour guide extraordinaire took us to dinner at a Japanese restaurant where his older brother is the lead bartender.

Hanzo is, arguably, the best sushi restaurant in Peru. And we've *definitely* heard it argued. There's another sushi place, Edo, which also has its fans. Regardless, Hanzo is generally ranked #1 or #2 on every list I've seen. Trip Advisor ranks it the #4 overall restaurant in the country.

We sat down and were not given menus. We were given wine. That we weren't allowed to pick.

 It was the story of the entire night- the server came to the table and said "is anyone allergic to anything?". We weren't. And from that point forward, Juan Carlo picked EVERYTHING we ate. As soon as one item was done, another one appeared. Our plates were cleared from the table twice and replaced with new, fresh settings.

This was the most incredible dining experience of my entire life.

Peruanos don't mess around when it comes to their food. The flavor, the freshness, the presentation- if you aren't at a little divey chicken and fries joint (and they're like Starbucks' in Seattle here), then you can almost guarantee that whatever you order will be the best of its kind that you've ever seen or tasted- until you remember the one you had a few days ago somewhere else. Which was also the best.

As far as presentation goes, the Mariscos Al Fuego was the highlight of the whole night. Lots of restaurants woo their diners by setting things on fire. There's a bit of a pyromaniac in every restaurant patron- we all love to see blowtorches on the desert tray. It means something exciting and different. The shells had calamari, fish, shrimp and a cream sauce and ... best of all ... surrounded a central pile of salt that burned well into our first serving.

I think we must have burned through 7 or 8 different courses. By the time the chaufa fusion dish reached the table, topped with 2 giant crawfish, I was incredibly full. When Lisa reached out, shook her crawfish's hand and said hello, even if I'd not been full, I was done.

Looking briefly at the menu, I know that this is not a place we'd have gone by our own choosing. We were invited. Then we were paid for. Entirely. Translated into dollars, I estimate that we were approaching $300 or $400. At any rate, that's what it would've cost at home...  and with good reason. But I don't know. We never received the bill.

Instead, we just sat with Paulo and his brother, who later joined us at the table and we had a great time.

The night was so fun, so delicious, such a nice break in the middle of a stressful week. But it was just a meal. One dinner. Not even close to explaining how amazing it has been to be with Paulo all week. Except for the time he almost got us killed... but that's coming in a later post.

We've been paying for his cabs and his meals at the regular diners we've patronized, and with pleasure... but even that won't come close to expressing the gratitude the 3 of us have felt for his presence these last couple weeks.

 (FYI- the photos in this post are borrowed from a food critic's article because it *is* a fine dining establishment, so to bring out your cameras and take photos of all of the food isn't necessarily smiled upon. However, this is a very accurate representation. One or two of our own photos coming soon!)