The fickle finger of foodies has picked Lima, Peru as the locale of the choicest seviche, the sourest piscos, the freshest fish south of Mexico. No doubt true. But what about Peru’s original gastronomic delicacy – the cuy? The guinea pig is ancient Peruvian scoff. When the Incans weren’t worshipping the potato, their tribal dish – they were sloganeering “Raise guinea pigs and eat well.” Spoilsport European immigrants frowned on cuy eating and urged beef and pork. But the Incans were right. For the third of the population who still live in the high Andes, where only the potato thrives, the cuy is invaluable source of protein. So much so that Peru’s National Agrarian Research Institute has developed a super-cuy that weighs up to three kilos, enough to feed a family of four, and richer in protein than chicken, beef or pork.

The super-cuy looks like an infant sucking pig. I know. Earlier this year I was traveling in the Ecuadorean Andes when our bus stopped, the doors opened, and a young Che offered us a big fat cuy fresh off the grill. Smelled fantastic. I thought of shelling out six bucks for it, but didn’t. Most of us were suffering from altitude sickness and filling the bus with the rich aroma of roast cuy might have been the tipping point to something worse. Alas, I never again had the chance.

Where can I find a cuy in Toronto? I can hear the screams of protest as children hide their cute furry pets.

We have a handful of Peruvian restaurants in the city, and they’re typical neighbourhood restaurants, catering to immigrants longing for a taste of home -- for the warm friendliness of servers who treat customers like fellow human beings (Toronto should set up a service school in South America!) and for signature dishes like papa a la huincana (potatoes with creamy cheese sauce) and anticuchos, marinated grilled beef heart on skewers. I scan reviews which are mostly National Geographic boilerplate “Hey out there wonderful rainbow cultures”. Everything is good. Politically correct ideology, cultural relativism, is in play. I wonder whether the reviewers have eaten enough beef heart to know the difference between good and bad. Eating is a wholly subjective experience – and without an honest review to go by, I am taken aback to discover that even a marinade doesn’t prevent grilled beef heart from closely resembling leather soles.

No reviews even hint at the existence of the great cuy. But then I couldn’t find cuy on Lima’s top menus, or on the menu of Raza, Montreal’s swanky Cuisine Nuevo Latino with a menu that includes a foie gras empanada (that’s more like it!) and squash with mushroom foam. We don’t have a Raza - but then I doubt whether Montreal has a restaurant like Boulevard Café which for the past 29 years has been a gently flickering beacon of laid-back Peru in the Annex – and with one of the most congenial patios in the city.

The Bon Vivant and I have been prematurely celebrating Halloween when we arrive around 9 pm on a Saturday night. The BV is still wearing his fang mask – an immediate icebreaker which makes the owner owner/chef Lirio Peck laugh and gets us seats in the crowded dining room. I haven’t been here for a while and I’m impressed all over again at the restaurant’s assured ‘tude. We are primed for noise – what’s Latin America without maraccas – and can’t believe it. The music is upstairs in the Romantic Latin Lounge, Frieda Kahler colours and oxblood tiles, but downstairs, we are talking without shouting even though we’re surrounded by the I-pod gen. It’s as if we’ve all come to escape the pressure cooker and just relax.

Service is idionsycratic. Striped Sweater, we fail to get his name, is ultra-helpful. I try again to really like the supersized Pisco sour, but I love the huge plate of mussels on the half shell, cooked in cilantro and lime salsa with spicy mango. We propose a chicken tamal (a stuffed corn husk) but Striped Sweater’s face turns upside down, his mouth making a no. Instead he urges us to the crabmeat quesadilla, smoked gruyere, jalapenos, baby shrimp and tomato and cilantro salsa. The marinated and grilled shrimps in a spicy winey garlicky sauce are cooked a point. Neither of us are crazy about a traditional Peruvian fish stew which features monkfish and shrimp in an indistinct way.

Where are the Andean faves – beef heart and potatoes? Usually potatoes come with everything, even rice. I fear for the future of Peru when I have to ask for a potato! Striped Sweater nods smilingly and returns with yucca frites. They’re airier than potatoes. And the wine list has low markups. The agreeable Kim Crawford Pinot Noir costs a mere 50% more than the LCBO price.

The evening takes on a dreamy quality when a past employee arrives to celebrate her birthday. A family party. These folks live their work. Striped Sweater says he’s been here for 13 years, another server has been around equally long. It’s wonderfully unreal. Looking out the window I see a masked Pierrot dodging and ducking down the street among the scuttling leaves. The present recedes in a moment of magic realism... What a rich evening out.

**1/2 Boulevard Cafe 161 Harbord at Borden
416-961-7676 Dinner, food plus tax: $82

Egregious Error: Jerry Horton, Gallery Grill’s general manager, is responsible for the restaurant’s imaginative wine list. Congratulations Jerry. I mistakenly credited Anne Martin, a sommelier who starts a column in Canadian Living in February. Two other errors crept in on little cat feet. Gallery Grill has no “The” before it and brunch is on Sunday not Saturday. Thank goodness, the three stars are inviolate.

For more on NOISE, go to ginamallet.com

Tony Gagliano of St. Joseph Media which publishes Toronto Life does not own the restaurant Via Allegro. On the other hand Felice Sabatino, one of Gagliano’s best friends, does.

Which may explain equally well why Toronto Life has assiduously promoted Via Allegro over the past eighteen months without ever actually reviewing the restaurant as the public know it. .

April 2006: Via Allegro is no.7 on Best Restaurant List.
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