From the vegan Incans to foodie myths, Marcelo Batata's culinary tour was edible education and entertainment.

It was the first cooking school I'd ever attended. I wanted to go to one in Vietnam and India, but not enough to do anything about it. This time, on my penultimate day, I was more tenacious and signed up to a highly rated cooking school in one of the city's poshest establishments.

I was in a small group, the only European in a group of four. The others were American. I was relieved not to be the only solo traveller. And in standard Peruvian fashion, nothing was made of us being alone.

As you'd expect from a restaurant of this calibre, the cooking school was slick and looked every inch the professional kitchen. They even gave us branded aprons and chef hats, which we were told were mandatory to wear in the kitchen. More for fun than for health and safety standards.

Our host was Cusco-born, Lima trained chef Luis. He was friendly, warm, funny and knowledgable about food and history. And he was hot.

The class kicked off in the bar area with intros, each learning about one another. Then we were presented with a basket of native fruits, which we were asked to identify and taste. These ranged from lucuma, chirimoya and something that tasted of caramel.

Fruits for tasting at Marcelo Batata's cookery school

We were taught about Causa, a Peruvian dish that developed during the Peruvian-Colombian war. A lot of men were sent to the frontline and the women helped the war effort by making the potato-based dish to serve to the injured and people fighting. It's basically a veggie shepherd's pie with toasted sesame on top.

Causa entree

We then tried the famed and feared local delicacy of cuy (guinea pig), served on bruschetta complete with a cocktail stick for total ponciness. It was actually delicious, but it did, ironically, taste very swine-y. Perhaps that's how the guinea got the pig.

Then it was into their larder for a guide of Peruvian staples like the 4,000 varieties of potato. One very knobbly one, nicknamed bride's tears, is used by mothers to test potential suitors for their sons.

We also learnt about the 30 plus Andean microclimates and how this helps create most of the world's superfoods, like the millennial Islingtonites go-tos, avocado and quinoa. I learnt here there are so many easy to grow, much higher in protein and other nutrients superfood pulses, that the growth in global demand for the Andean staple is barely noticed. I also learnt quinoa is resilient and can go grow pretty much anywhere - great for climate change and our health.

Larder at Marcelo Batata cookery school

While standing in the pantry filled with dusty beans, plastic fruit and taxidermy guinea pigs (it's not as tacky as it sounds, it looks pretty convincing - see above) we ate another entree of shrimp bruschetta drowned in limon.

One girl dropped hers so Luis gallantly offered her his. Awww.

Shrimp bruschetta entree

After being pupils and eating. A lot. It was time to get into the kitchen. First up, ceviche, made from top-grade machi machi fish. Luis injected lots of fun but making it a friendly competition between us. We had to pass round ingredients (you need to move quickly when preparing ceviche) and challenging us into making our sauce a smidge hotter than we could tolerate.

As someone who can easily eat a rogan josh, I was being conservative (Peru is known for its chillies and I didn't want to be the person at the table demanding milk and not being able to see threw the tears). But I gave into peer pressure and added a little bit more...

Me and my ceviche

We also tried Peruvian hummus, made from kiwicha. A pulse similar (and cheaper) than quinoa. Of course, being of Greek heritage, I was more critical of this, but it actually had the same texture but not the same punch of chickpea hummus.
 

Kiwicha entree

We took our creations back to the bar area to eat. I have to say, mine was pretty delicious. It was here I realised I went the hottest. However, pastel pink sauce didn't make my face hurt, so I can only assume I had the highest heat threshold.

Then came the pisco making lesson. We tried lots of different flavours, as well as learning the traditions around it. If you fancy it, there's a pisco museum close to the restaurant. But this lesson was pretty comprehensive. I learnt about the three different types (pure, aromatic and blend) and the difference between pisco produced in other South American countries.

Pisco making lesson

I chose to make a cinnamon and lemongrass pisco, which is Luis' mum's favourite. And now mine too.

Then back in the kitchen to learn how to flambe alpaca lomo saltado. Again, you have to prepare the scorching wok and sling in the meat so quick or it'll be ruined in a flaming pan. Not going to lie, I was waiting to cause an accident or ruin my dish, but under the watchful eye of Luis, mine was properly seasoned and perfectly cooked.
 

Teacher Luis showing us how to flambe

I wolfed mine down at the bar while finishing off my pisco. And people noticed. They poked fun at me for hoovering it down, but what can I say, I'm a great cook! And if I don't enjoy my food, how enthaheeeeeell can I expect anyone else to.

My very own alpaca lomo saltado

The day was rounded off by mixing more alcohol in the bar area. Peru's second favourite tipple, chilcano. I opted for a passionfruit flavour. As we sat at the bar, we chewed the figurative fat about what we'd seen, what we wanted to see and the best places to eat in Cusco.

I was nine days in at this point, so I felt like a local. But I was still learning and it just made me want to come back and explore this incredible city - and its food - more.

We ate, we drank, we laughed, we learnt. We then paid (cash only) and walked into Cusco's dusky streets ready to take in the cities vibrant nightlife with a new appreciation of what led to this point.

I, of course, didn't have cash. So I had a tipsy run to the nearest cash point. Without realising it, (my maths is shit when I don't need to throw exchange rates in the mix) I overpaid. But Luis called by my hotel early the next morning (I was flying home at lunchtime) to pay me the difference in USD.

What a hero.

In those few hours, in a modern and progressive restaurant in Centro Historico, I learnt so much. Not just how to cook two of the country's most famous dishes, but about how different nationalities came and left their imprint on Peruvian food and culture. From the Chinese immigrants who went over to replace the slaves leaving their mark with chaifa (pidgin Chinese for rice-eating) to Europeans introducing chickens, pigs, cows and wine.

It just goes to show. A nation's identity is never homegrown but an evolution of human curiosity and survival.

Originally published 30 September 2019