Peruvian Restaurant in Anchorage?

---

So after the last travel update Aldo recommended a restaurant (El Fogon) that we should try out if we were looking for local cusine. Of course! So we walked a couple blocks to the Plaza de Armas and then a couple more. Blocks are so small here, very walking friendly. I kept watch as Jeff withdrew cash from an ATM. We passed another local eating place that had a sign outside for hamburgers for Sole 1.5 (that´s about 50 cents ... good for Peru, bad for McDonalds). We decided to stick to original plan of going to El Fogon. I decided to order without knowing what¨"Trucha" is. Turns out it is fish, served complete with the head. The fish was great, but was was extraordinary were the sauces that came along with the food. It made even the french fries taste like gourmet food. So we complimented our waitress, Ruth Alvarado, who´s day job is being an English professor at a high school ... all conversation was in Spanish though and as you might have guessed by Jeff. He is a great guide and translator, highly recommended. Hearing how much we were influenced by the food she brought us a comment card. In the column for "how they can improve the restaurant¨" we added - open a branch in Anchorage, Alaska - that Jeff and I would have as our new business. She thought that was funny, and even offered to come to Alaska to be our cook. To which I insisted that Jeff ask her if we can work in the kitchen here so we can learn how to cook with the best. That was not taken as a weird, stalker like request and next thing we know, we were making plans to meet two days from then, on Sunday morning to go to the market to buy ingredients and then going to her parent´s place to learn how to cook some Peruvian delicacies. If I can´t move to Peru, I would at least like to learn how to cook some Peruvian dishes.

That brings us to this morning. Woke up early (7am ... early for holiday standards) and met Marco and Jamie, our guides for the mt bike day trip up into the Cordillera Blanca. We were joined by a Canadian bike racer, Dana Ruddy from Jasper. Ok, so our superhero, life long Huaraz-ites, studly, mt bike guides claimed that they do this circuito in 3 hours, sometimes under 3 hours. Mind you, the route takes you from 9500´to 12200´ (I dispute that as being closer to 12900´ based on a local topo map that Dana had) over 10 miles of what they called single track. The ride began with negotiating some confusing back alleys and cobblestone streets to road´s end. Where the path turned into a double track. Quite pleasant, but Marco and Jamie were now out of sight. This was to be the norm for the day. this double track turned even steeper and finally detoured off to parallel some precipitous clay/shale cliffs. We had been climbing for what seemed so long, when Marco pointed out to a spec on a distant mountain; "That, my friends, is where we begin to descend". Jeff and I looked at each other and it went without saying that it was going to hurt bad, especially since we were thinking the downhill was almost there. To top that, the trail turned into a single track with even more exposure, so much so that you´d think that they would warn you a little more seriously when you sign up for something like this. There were a few aqueducts perched over a knife edge ridge, with no other way around them than either circus walking on a narrow strip of concrete, or carrying your bike and holding onto the structure from below, on what remained of the older trail. And the bike carry´s at altitude, with no acclimatization (this was day 2 at above sea level for Jeff and I), left me panting like a dog. I couldn't carry the bike much more than a few steps at a time and then had to put it down and let my heart rate get below 200. Jeff did a lot better. But then he always does things off the couch, so he says, so much better. 😊
The downhill on the little folding bike wit 20 inch wheels and no shocks was not particularly better either, but atleast I could run with it when I could not stay on it. There were some stretches of rock gardens that baffled Jeff and I, to imagine how those guys were riding them. The down trail spit us out at a rural part of town, and then it was back to fending of crazy, rabbied dogs. These little bastards are not just bark, they look seriously intent on biting a chunk off your calf if not kicked at like a bucking donkey.

Back in town after 4 hours (not bad for not dieing). Clothes need to be washed. Headache needs to be nursed. Sleep needs to be had.
Tomorrow we learn to cook with Ruth

---