RESTAURANT REVIEW : Peruvian Fare at Cafe Latino Starts Weighty, Then Lightens Up

Big news: They aren’t fixing the floor at Cafe Latino anymore. For several months the place looked like an archeological dig, but now it has a handsome new mud-colored tile floor, giving the operation a bit of atmosphere.

A bit is about all, though. This is still just about the barest, boxiest room you’ll ever see, a brightly lit rectangle of white walls and brown Formica tables with red-and-white checked paper place mats on top. Food is ordered in the back by the cooler through a tiny window barely big enough for the cafe’s huge platters of food to fit through.

And when Laura Rosal is serving the food, she doesn’t bother calling the orders into the kitchen. She runs back there and cooks it herself, unless her sister Gabi is on duty. The sisters also own this place, popular for its homey Peruvian cuisine.

You’d never know it was a Peruvian restaurant from the music blaring in here, which is mostly American pop recycled in Spanish. They have Peruvian tapes, of course, including that mystical pan flute version of “ El Condor Pasa “ that was popularized by Paul Simon, but they don’t play them very often. That’s probably because the constant stream of neighborhood Central Americans who come to enjoy ceviche mixto and tamal con salsa criolla would rather listen to tunes penned by the Bee Gees.

There’s nothing recycled about this food, though. If you’re not faint of heart, you might want to begin your meal with a glass of the distinctive Peruvian soft drink chicha morada, a purple fluid with a medicinal finish made from slightly fermented corn. I actually like the stuff, but I have to admit it is an acquired taste.

On the other hand, don’t be tempted by curiosity when you see Inca Cola on the menu. It is pale yellow and disgustingly sweet, like liquid bubble gum. If courage falters, you can always fall back on a bottle of Pilsen, the excellent hop-flavored Peruvian lager.

Peruvian food is curious in that the appetizers (entradas) are often heavier than the main courses (guisos). Peruvian tamales--coarsely ground cylinders of masa stuffed with chicken or pork, olives and marinated onions--weigh about a pound apiece. The famous papas a la Huancaina (named for the ancient city of Huancayo) is another knee-buckler. It’s a cold plate of sliced boiled potato and a whole sliced egg, tucked in under a blanket of unctuous cheese sauce thick enough to keep you warm during an Andean snowstorm.

The one exception to the heavy-appetizer syndrome is ceviche, the wondrous marinated fish dish that Peru gave to the world. Cafe Latino’s ceviche is a family-size oval dish piled high with snapper, shrimp, octopus and bay scallops in a miraculous marinade of fresh limes, the juice from diaphanously sliced onions and cilantro. Hunks of corn and roasted sweet potato are served on the side. It’s a snack for four, an entire meal for two, and the best reason to eat here.

On a Peruvian menu, guiso usually means a thick chunk of stewed meat with a mountain of rice and the ubiquitous potato, Peru’s main contribution to world gastronomy. Lomo saltado is the best-known guiso: sauteed strips of beef with onions and tomatoes served with chunky fried potatoes and a mysterious, piquant seasoning mixture. It’s delicious. You could also order a traditional bistec frijol y arroz --a schnitzel-size slab of beef served with rice and beans--but not if you take my advice. The beef can be rather leathery.

The menu’s two chicken dishes couldn’t be more different. Arroz chaufa de pollo is a popular Peruvian adaptation of chow fun, or fried rice (don’t look so surprised; in Peru the Chinese dominate the restaurant trade), made with large hunks of chicken, several eggs and abundant green onion. Aji de gallina, by contrast, looks like something you’d find in Peru, Indiana --where it would probably be called creamed chicken. It’s a big yellow glob of shredded chicken in starchy cheese sauce, poured over boiled rice. Only in Indiana, I suspect, they’d dump it on white toast.

Postres (desserts) number three here, all worth a fling. When you eat the aerated, egg-happy flan, you’ll realize how unappealing the usual nylon-textured, mix-made versions of this dessert are. Arroz con leche is a rice pudding full of cinnamon and fat little raisins. And alfajores, a shortbread cookie sandwich filled with caramelized sugar, is sheer density and sticky richness. It comes wrapped in wax paper, just the way a couple of sisters would fix it.

Suggested dishes: tamal con salsa criolla, $3.95; ceviche mixto, $8.50; lomo saltado, $6.75; arroz chaufa de pollo, $6.50.

Cafe Latino, 6772 Coldwater Canyon Ave., North Hollywood, (818) 503-8877. Lunch and dinner noon-10 p.m. Tuesday-Thursday, noon-midnight Friday-Saturday, noon-9 p.m. Sunday-Monday. Beer and wine. Parking lot. American Express accepted. Dinner for two, food only, $15-$25.