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I think everyone agrees that the malecón in Miraflores is one of the most beautiful parts of town. And when I say “everyone,” I mean everyone: rich runners decked out in dri-fit and the newest Nikes, parapenteros hoping for wind to break through the garúa, bratty pituco kids on bikes with their two or three ridiculed servants in tow, wedding day-couples from Villa El Salvador posing for photos in their rigid tuxes and ‘80s dresses, gawking German tourists in fanny packs contemplating the Delfín. Especially on Sundays, the malecón is the place to be. That is, if you want to roller blade, pasear, play with your dog or hug your teenage girlfriend so tightly that you appear to be one flesh. You can watch the surfers, paraglide, play tennis or let your kids loose in the fountains. There is one activity that is very hard to accomplish: eating.

Except for Larcomar, there is basically nowhere to eat on the malecón. Punta Sal does decent seafood and has a spectacular view, and then there are, well, some random ladies selling pacays and chicles and the ever-present D’Onofrio trikesters. Only near the north end is there a very small trove of culinary gems: El Señorio del Sulco, Costanera 700 and the one I finally managed to visit this weekend, Francesco.

Jogging by you might not even notice it, as it doesn’t attract much attention with its simple façade and location squished between apartment buildings. It’s far enough north that it avoids the swarms of gringo tourists and the day-trippers from the conos. The noise of the cars from Ejército is only a block away, but it’s so quiet you might forget about combis just for awhile.  Inside it is absolutely packed. All of the tables on both stories are taken and a line is out the door.  With so many people it’s hard to even get a feel for the ambience. But with high ceilings and a glass-front view of the ocean the restaurant oddly doesn’t feel crowded.


Francesco is a classic limeño restaurant – but wait a second; that doesn’t mean that it only offers ceviche mixto and chicha morada.  Franceso’s menu is one of the most daring in Lima. To wit: Pez Espada en Salsa de Maracuyá (S/.44), Lenguago Mandarino (S/.54), Atún al Sauco (S/.46), Salmón al Oporto (S/,48), Tamales de Pulpo (S/,18), Arroz Chaufa con Pulpo a la Piedra (S/.49) and Rocoto Relleno de Mariscos (S/.29) are just the highlights.

We tried the Lenguado al Cognac (S/.54), which was fabulous. Obviously a Chinese-influenced dish, this was the first time I had ever tried lenguado that was breaded. The coating was even and appropriately thin, and it didn’t overshadow the flavor of the fish. The sauce was slightly sweet and subtle, yet alive. The chopped pecans served on the side, when mixed in, added a crunch that the breading didn’t provide. It reminded me of pollo iqeño from Southern Peru. Topped with mushrooms and onions, this dish looked sparse when served, but turned out to be the most filling dish of the day.


Another main we sampled was a squid ink risotto served with shrimp. The risotto had obviously been cooked very patiently for at least an hour – the key to a good risotto. It was incredibly moist and balanced well with the almost crisp shrimp. A creamy ají sauce served with the shrimp completed the taste package perfectly.

The champion of the dishes we tried was the wantanes de mariscos (S/.18). Although wantan papers are available at a great price at every grocery store, Peru doesn’t seem to use them to their full potential. Aside from ají de gallina tequeños, wantans here are either fried and served practically empty as a starter in any chifa, or enclosing mystery meat in a Chinese-esque soup at chifas and non-chifas alike. Francesco’s wantanes, on the other hand, were absolutely stuffed with high-quality seafood. Even after having been fried, the octopus meat stuck out as being tender and juicy. Served with two different chifa sauces, I would definitely order this again.

Lest you think that Francesco is only for the edgy eater, note that a variety of more traditional dishes are available.  The ceviches run between S/.29 and S/.44, the Chupe is S/.59 and the Consommé de Cangrejo is served right away, and on the house.  To get our taste of lo clásico we tried the mini-causas special (S/.28): four different towers of potato/ají amarillo goodness.

Among the members of the dining party, however, we couldn’t agree on which was the best. One person favored the causa de Ferrañafe – topped with a mixture of cold fish and onions, almost like escabeche.  Another really enjoyed the crabmeat causa. My favorite was the pulpo al olivo, which distinguishes itself from other similar causas I’ve tried because the sauce did not taste like the bottom of an olive jar. This sauce was smooth, creamy and almost sweet.

We also sampled the Tiradito B.A.R. (S/.49), which is named for its salsas Blanca, de Ají y de Rocoto.  I loved the spicy rocoto sauce, but the white sauce was the most interesting.  A very light, liquidy sauce, its taste didn’t reveal its base.  Only upon enquiring did I learn that it was made with a stock of pureed vegetables.  That’s right, folks, for a white seafood sauce in Peru without mayo, Francesco may be your only place.

The prices at Francesco are not low, by any means, but I stress the value in each plate: portions are huge, the wantans are stuffed full, and the little things like the consommé cortesía go a long way.  The Pisco Sour Francesco is in some ways a microcosm of the whole restaurant: at S/.24, your hopes are pretty high, but other than its size (basically a small fishbowl) you can’t think that it will live up.  Then halfway through your meal you realize you’re struggling to finish it, and that they didn’t chinch and water the thing down.

At Francesco people are too busy eating delicious food to worry about seeing and being seen, so the prices aren’t just to weed out the riffraff like at most of Lima’s fine dining establishments.  And there wouldn’t be lines as long as Chicharrones Kio’s if the food weren’t superb.  Simply stated: Francesco is the place to dine on the Miraflorino cliffs, and it probably would be even if there were ten times the number of restaurants on the malecón.

Malecón de la Marina 526, Miraflores
442-8255, 221-2697