The Other Iglesias Brother

After the usual Thursday night check-in with the teachers of Buena Voz, I arrived in Barranco at the GEA office to drop off materials and extra cash. It was about 8:30pm, and despite the lateness of my Peruvian lunch, my hunger was on my case worse than Miles Silverberg was on Murphy Brown after she accidentally kidnapped Socks from the Clintons. It was time to take action. Outside of GEA, on the walk back to the Casona, there is a tiny restaurant. I call it a restaurant for lack of a better word, but it's only about the 1/3 of the size of a two car garage. It also happens to be located in the front of a townhouse where the garage should be. Do the residents rent out their garage to this business? Are there even residents in the rest of the building? Where did that jogger find a chestnut wig of such impressive craftsmanship? Unfortunately, I can't give you the answers to these questions, but I can give more details about the restaurant (tiny restaurants like these are everywhere in Lima). There is a very small patio where 1/3 of the driveway would be, and the owner puts out 2 or 3 round tables during business hours. Again, I say "tables" because I can't an appropriate word, but each of these tables could hold a can of cola, a California Pizza Kitchen Wild Mushroom personal pizza, and 2, maybe 3, packets of Sweet n' Low. Once inside, you encounter a minuscule kitchen on the right side (griddle, blender, sink, Sham Wow, and not much else) and a sliver of a counter on the left side for eating while standing. Normally I wouldn't be enticed by a restaurant such as this because typically the menu is a ubiquitous hodge podge of sandwiches, hamburgers, and fruit juices (sort of like smoothies without ice). It's cheap and great drunk food, but nothing that really calls to you. However, this night was different for two reasons. You already know about my aforementioned hunger (since everyone remembers that Murhpy Brown moment, right?), but the menu at this joint was slightly different. They made their fruit juices with milk! It's a small distinction, but I often really want that extra body in my smoothie. For the UCLA alums out there, smoothies with milk bring back strong memories of Puzzles at 1:30am with half of the football team waiting for smoothies and cheese fries. Anyhow, I ordered a strawberry juice (remember, it's a smoothie), and was duly impressed when the owner blended the berries and milk and then STRAINED the seeds. It's that attention to detail that will promise a future of 2/3 garage and even full garage restaurants. I was about to grab my juice and start walking back to the Casona when the fellow poured it into a glass pitcher. I had forgotten to specify "para llevar" (to go), so I drank it at one of the patio tables. 2 minutes (to midnight, but to be clear, it was 8:45pm) later I left for the Casona. My frugo de fresa was fresh, frothy, and fantastic (I kind of had to) so I didn't waste any time putting it away.

Once I arrived home and dropped off my backpack, I noticed that my internal Miles Silverberg was once again getting on my case. There wasn't much food in the kitchen so I walked across the street to a small convenience store. These establishments are also everywhere here in Lima. They are universally poorly lit and have a counter from which the owner takes your order and grabs the products you need from the floor to ceiling shelves behind the counter. Despite their small size they have an impressive selection of drinks, convenience foods, ingredients, produce, dairy and egg products, household products, and sweets. The one across from the Casona also has a clear glass case on the counter with a few desserts and sandwiches prepared in the presumably microscopic kitchen. My sights were set on the shredded chicken sandwiches with mayo and lettuce on "pan frances." The sandwich itself isn't particularly noteworthy (although it is cheap at the low, low price of $0.90) but they also prepare a bright yellow hot sauce condiment from the aji amarillo peppers which you can add as you see fit. The sauce has a simple name (aji), but don't let the name lure you into a false sense of flavor security. Once you dress the sandwich with the desired amount of aji, your tastebuds will really sing. The owner commented about how much I like the aji and how his wife would kill him if he ever divulged the recipe. While I was eating my sandwich another customer rolled in and starts working on a sandwich of his own. Then HE commented on the aji. This shop obviously has a trick or two up its sleeve of products. I was about to leave when I discovered another of the store's tricks. The owner and I were talking about my trip to Peru, where I'm from, why my head is so darn clean, etc. when he told me his name was Antonio Iglesias. I told him he should go to the States and tell people he is the brother of Julio Iglesias, to whom he bears a passing resemblance (Julio Iglesias has a younger brother, Carlos. Julio's father, Julio Sr., didn't stop with two, however. He had another son and daughter when Julio Jr. was 61 and 63, respectively, and when Julio Sr. was 89 and deceased, respectively. I tell you what, I certainly didn't expect to learn THAT about Julio Iglesias!). How does he react to my comment? He breaks into a traditional Peruvian song (the best way to describe it would be Spanish opera) to the delight of me and the other patrons. I really love when random and unexpected occurrences unfold, and what fits that description better than a Julio Iglesias lookalike preparing chicken sandwiches and then serenading me with criolla (traditional Peruvian) music? I only wanted one sandwich, but I had to stick around to hear more classics delivered by this guy with a surprisingly decent voice. Maybe Julio Sr. was busier than we all thought...