Restaurant review: Peruvian magic at Chakana SoHo

What does it look like when tradition and innovation collide — with a Peruvian fusion twist?

Chakana SoHo (Chakana meaning Inca cross) reminds me of a Hollywood set for a mythical heaven. Stripes of tiny metallic glass tiles embellish the ramp that leads to the bright, tall-ceiling interior. Tufted white leather banquettes line the wall under huge, colorful 2-D contemporary art graphics. But crisp white tablecloths topped with sparkling stemware (overflowing with white napkin sunbursts) give the intimate space an ethereal glow. And instead of crown molding, luminescent strings of tiny cobalt blue dots line the room.

Chef Edgar Hurtado's Chakana is an opportunity to experience food that might otherwise require an arduous trek to Lima. A great example is the causa rellena, which is flat-out scrumptious. Two thick slices of square yellow potato cake "seasoned with a criollo touch to steal your heart" make a delightful sandwich. The filling features chunks of chicken, avocado, and egg — flavored with Peruvian yellow pepper and just enough lime to make it pop. My table devours this surprising treat in a few quick bites.

Yuquitas a la huancaina is the Peruvian version of ketchup and fries. In this case, the yuca tuber is cut into long, thick strips and fried until golden, like huge steak fries have taken over the ranch. But the yucas have their own seductive taste. The center is extra creamy, and the sauce is a cheesy, yellow pepper specialty that contains "secrets of the Incas." It's mild yet full of flavor.

Crispy pieces of golden fried calamari are nicely spiced, if nothing new. What elevates the dish (which is a huge portion) is the brightness of tartar sauce. There's real zing here, and the acidity is a nice balance to the fatty, variegated batter coating the tender squid. It's a bubbly and crunchy plate satisfying to share.

Our first entree, ceviche mixto, is served plated, as opposed to the martini glass preparations that abound. We pay the up charge for corvina sea bass in place of tilapia. The raw fish is combined with shrimp, marinated in fresh Chulucanas lime juice from northwest Peru, then mixed with fresh onions, cilantro and an unnamed touch of Peruvian magic. The garnishes of soft yams, crunchy corn nuts (cancha), and large-kernel white corn (choclo) are distinct, pleasing additions.

We settle on sangria to accompany the meal. It's straightforward and appears to be just red wine with oodles of fruit. Unfortunately, in the Tampa restaurant's haste to fill our order, we also get a beautiful orange slice with the remainder of a blue sticker. I believe it's an oversight (not a statement of Gator pride) and simply peel it off to enjoy my paper-free libation.

Arroz con pollo is a "Peruvian icon." The leg-and-thigh chicken quarter is served with an enormous mound of yummy rice; both are fragrant with touches of fresh cilantro and Peruvian pepper. It's simple, juicy comfort food. Another classic is loma saltado, a stir-fry of tender pink steak, bright tomatoes, yellow peppers and chunks of red onion. The kitchen piles it on crunchy French fries with a side of white rice. The juices soften the potatoes and the flavors meld; it's the most familiar preparation — satisfying without surprise.

Pescado en salsa Chakana is called the "chef’s secret weapon." Try as I might, I can't pry details from our server who is obviously not sharing the recipe for a creamy red sauce dotted with herbs that blankets our grilled snapper, shrimp and the entire plate except for a molded mound of white rice. While the offering's tasty, there's so much sauce that at first I thought the fillet was forgotten. The fish is, indeed, there, swimming in the sauce (though a bit slower than in the ocean), but it tastes great.

Since many versions of flan can be found across the region, we turn our sweets focus to soft, delicate alfajores, which give you a prime example of why these South America cookies are so popular. They're made, surprisingly, with cornstarch in addition to flour, producing a tender, crumbly cookie. Creamy dulce de leche caramel holds them together in an Oreo-type sandwich. Our group is split. I've had the cookies before and appreciate the dry texture. However, my table's newbies remain unimpressed.

Tres leches is a delicious sponge cake infused with three milks: condensed, evaporated and whole (or cream). There are myriad variations across the Latino diaspora. Some opt for a denser butter cake. Chakana's Peruvian derivation is light and sweet, but not overly wet. It's a delightful way to finish. Interestingly, next week's review will feature a totally different variation on the tres leches theme; a preference merely depends on individual gastronomic quirks.

Before we exit, nature calls. The bathroom hallway is a tongue-in-cheek rogues' gallery of politicos. It includes framed faux mugshots of ex-presidents Alberto Fujimori and Alan García Pérez against a chaotic black-and-white-striped wall with lines going in every direction. The design is a mirror of the wonderful kinetic exterior that's a visual metaphor for Peru's oft sleaze-tinged government (which falls halfway between Denmark and North Korea on the World Audit's corruption index).

Chakana's Peruvian expats chuckle at politics while they embrace and introduce Tampa Bay to their homeland's rich culinary treasures.

Jon Palmer Claridge dines anonymously when reviewing. Check out the explanation of his rating system.

This article appears in Jun 23-30, 2016.