In Milan, Peruvian Restaurants Build on a Tradition of Fusion

Yahoo

27-03-2025

Valeria Bismar/Pachamama
Two small bowls of cancha—toasted Peruvian corn—and fried plantain chips are the first things to arrive at my table. They're accompanied by bright and tart ají amarillo chili and huacatay (Andean black mint) sauces, essential fixtures of any Peruvian meal. Música criolla (Latin American folk music) pulses from the speakers, while around me families share heaping platters of ceviche mixto (made with a mix of seafood), arroz con mariscos (seafood rice) and lomo saltado (stir-fried beef with onions, tomatoes, and fries). As I get my starter—choritos a la chalaca, which are steamed mussels topped with a zesty onion, tomato, and lime relish—a young woman sets up in a corner, takes out a microphone, and begins singing in Spanish. The waiters join in, and soon, the whole restaurant is clapping along.
Just like Peruvian cuisine itself—diverse, layered, and rich in influences ranging from Andean to Chinese to Italian, even—Milan's Peruvian food scene runs the gamut from rustic to refined.
I feel I could be at a low-key eatery in Lima. Except that I'm some 6,600 miles around the world at El Chorrillano, a no-frills Peruvian restaurant in Milan, Italy, during Sunday lunch. Known for its traditional menu and always-fresh seafood, the place is an institution for the local Peruvian community, who come here over the weekend for a taste of home. It is one of the many, many Peruvian establishments that dot the city. Peruvians are the fifth largest foreign community in Milan—making them the largest immigrant population from South America—and one of its most active. They bring their heritage to the northern Italian metropolis through festivals, cultural gatherings, and, increasingly, food. A quick search on Google Maps confirms this culinary footprint: From the multicultural neighborhood of Nolo (where El Chorrillano is) in the northeast to the lively canalside district of Navigli in the south, Peruvian restaurants, bars, and cafes are woven into the city's fabric. Perhaps it shouldn't be surprising, given the hundreds of years of dialogue between the two countries: Italian immigration to Peru dates back to the colonial era in the 1500s, and Peruvians, in turn, began arriving in Milan in the 1980s in a wave of emigration spurred on by political and economic instability at home.
'We are a tight-knit community deeply connected through food,' says Rita Guillen Huamani, co-founder of the Comunità Italo Peruana (CIP), an organization that promotes integration between Italians and Peruvians. 'But we also take pride in sharing [our food] with others, which is why our restaurants are everywhere in Milan rather than clustered in one isolated enclave. We want Peruvian cuisine to be part of the Milanese experience.'
Just like Peruvian cuisine itself—diverse, layered, and rich in influences ranging from Andean to Chinese to Italian, even—Milan's Peruvian food scene runs the gamut from rustic to refined. Many spots feel like Peruvian versions of a neighborhood osteria, with family-style tables, unfussy service, and simple décor that sometimes verges on the kitschy. El Chorrillano, for instance, leans into a nautical theme, with anchors, sea-inspired murals, and a plaster shark jetting from a wall.
D' Karbon Y Limon, which has two locations in southern Milan, serves classics like pollo a la brasa (rotisserie chicken) and causa rellena (a layered potato terrine) amid simple wooden tables and colorful Peruvian paintings of Lake Titicaca and Andean scenery. In the hipster Lambrate area, El Hornero, famous for its parrilladas (barbecue meats like skewered beef and pork ribs), immerses diners in a gaucho-inspired setting with wooden barrels and cowhides. It's at these places that the homesick—Peruvians, but also Ecuadorians, Salvadorans, and Hondurans—go to seek the familiar.
But in the last few years—particularly post-pandemic—Peruvian cuisine in Milan has also evolved beyond these humble roots, finding a place in the city's more elevated dining scene. In contemporary, polished settings inventive chefs have set out to play with flavors and ingredients, showcasing Peruvian food as an example of culinary fusion. Casa Lemon, in the elegant Indipendenza area, is one such place. An intimate 40-seat bistro that looks like a friend's cool dining room—think handpicked antique market finds, black-and-white family photos, and retro lighting—it was opened in 2021 by Miguel Angel Castillo Pinto, a Lima-born chef who lived in Spain, Argentina, Canada, and the UK before settling in Milan just before the pandemic. His menu is the culmination of all his past experiences and culinary contaminations, with a constant nod to the pillars of Peruvian food: lime, onions, ají amarillo, and leche de tigre (a citrus-based marinade that forms the base of ceviche), which feature in many of his dishes.
'I think of it as a nomadic kitchen with a Peruvian heart,' says Castillo Pinto. 'Different influences, flavors, and ideas coming together—after all, that's the origin story of so many Peruvian staples, too.'
Italy—or, as Castillo Pinto specifies, 'the Milanese palate'—is also a big source of inspiration. In his causa, the lime- and ají amarillo-marinated potato layers are bound together with vitello tonnato, a typical Italian sauce made by combining tuna and anchovies with mayonnaise and garlic. His ceviche swaps raw onions for caramelized ones; while empanadas ooze with stringy mozzarella. Slow-cooked octopus comes topped with an herbaceous chimichurri (a sauce usually reserved for grilled meats) and mashed sweet potatoes, then finished with crispy cavolo nero (black kale), a favorite winter green in the boot-shaped country.
'Making food means constantly evolving, experimenting,' says Castillo Pinto. 'Italian influences have long shaped Peruvian cooking, dating back to the early 20th century when many Italian immigrants settled in Lima. Being in Milan now, I want to add my own take to that exchange.'
That cross-cultural interplay also defines Fininfondo, a gourmet Italian-Peruvian restaurant in Navigli where brothers Charo Artisan and John Henry Espinoza Bernardo revisit dishes from the two countries in original ways. Here, parmesan risotto trades rice for white and red quinoa, served alongside tuna in a lomo saltado sauce; while amberjack ceviche is paired with crispy, golden fried artichokes from Italy. It's a two-way culinary migration that not only works, but shows how cuisines deeply rooted in tradition can thrive on change—and collaboration.
'When you look at 'contemporary' Peruvian restaurants in Milan—not old-school spots where you go to eat sopa de mote and arroz chaufa when you're craving your mum's cooking, but places that are more forward-looking—I think it's natural for Italy to find its way onto the menu,' says Gustavo Morales, chef and owner of Llama Maki, a sleek, always-packed nikkei (Japanese-Peruvian fusion) restaurant near Navigli. 'I know I seek it out, even if I am focusing on Nikkei food. I always ask myself 'what's something new I can do here? How can I surprise my customers?' Folding Italian elements into my dishes is the simplest, yet most exciting, answer.'
His arroz con pato (herb-perfumed rice with duck) gets a decadent twist thanks to a generous dusting of 36-month-aged Parmigiano Reggiano, which creates a beautifully rich dish packed with umami. Lomo saltado is served with silky risotto, fusing Peru's vibrant flavors with Italy's indulgent textures in a way that makes you want to ask for seconds.
Morales, who moved to Milan with his parents at 11 and trained in several Italian kitchens before reconnecting with his Peruvian heritage, describes his work as 'a culinary dialogue.' He applies that same expression to the relationship he has with others who work within the Peruvian restaurant community. 'It's good to support each other, and we do,' he says. 'Chefs from my generation, we're not just Peruvians cooking for Peruvians. We're building new cultural identities.'
They're doing so not just through food, but also through the drinks that accompany it. At modern eateries like Llama Maki, Casa Lemon, or Pachamama—a Novo-Andina restaurant that serves traditional recipes next to combos like Milanese ossobuco 'a la norteña' or linguine en salsa anticuchera—Peru also joins the table via beers, wines, and spirits from the South American nation.
'A lot of Italians are surprised to discover there's more to Peru than just pisco,' says Morales. Encouraging guests to sip on a glass of Matacuy, an Andean digestif rooted in tradition, 'is another way to spark curiosity and start a conversation,' he says.
That curiosity extends beyond restaurants. Lima Bar, in the Buenos Aires shopping district, does Peruvian breakfast of pan con chicharrón (a fried pork sandwich) and jugo surtido (a smoothie-like juice of mixed fruits), drawing both nostalgic Peruvians and adventurous Italians open to set aside their cornetto and caffe for once.
Tiny Fidel's Bakery in Nolo sells empanaditas, alfajores, and cocadas, quintessential Peruvian confectioneries for which the South-American community and plenty of Milanese regularly queue. In a small kitchen behind the counter, siblings Katherine, Oscar and Josselyn Santos Alva make everything from scratch, following traditional hand-written recipes their late father—a former Lima baker—passed on to them, with Italian ingredients like coffee and techniques sometimes added to the mix. The sweets are so popular that the siblings are now hunting for a bigger space in a more central part of the city.
For Guillen Huamani of CIP, these culinary ventures are more than about food. 'Peruvian outlets deepen Milan's cultural framework,' she says. 'They take many of us back to Lima, Cusco, Arequipa; and [they take] Italians on a journey.' These restaurants also prove that belonging can be, at once, rooted and expansive.
Originally Appeared on Condé Nast Traveler