A few weeks ago, I wrote that the culinary mafia had named Peruvian the new "it" food. With the mid-May opening of Essencia following closely on the heels of Piqueo's, it's starting to look like the pundits were right.

Anne Gingrass, one half of the duo behind the former Hawthorne Lane, has partnered with Juan and Carmen Cespedes, a husband-and-wife team originally from Lima, Peru to open Essencia, a 45-seat spot in Hayes Valley. The room doesn't feel small thanks to a nearly all-glass façade that allows for plenty of people watching at the bustling corner of Gough and Hayes. (It's also a great location for nabbing walk-in customers, and outdoor tables are already in the works.) Furnished simply with sustainably harvested red acacia tabletops, pale brown walls, and graphic orange and gold lampshades, the room provides a great backdrop for the folksy Peruvian landscape painting that occupies one wall.

Like the dining room, the menu is small. Gingrass designed it around Peru's home cooking and contemporary restaurant cuisine, but rooted it firmly in San Francisco by relying on local, organic ingredients (including hyper-local products from neighborhood vendors like Blue Bottle Coffee Company, Modern Tea, and Miette Confiserie.) Though some things will be imported, she is also working with Bay Area farmers to cultivate Peruvian herbs and vegetables here at home. The result is lighter food than you'll find at most of the city's other Peruvian haunts.

Peruvian cuisine is truly multi-cultural, drawing on Incan roots as well as Spanish, African, Chinese, Japanese, Italian, and Creole culinary traditions. Ceviche is practically a national dish, so we started with one of the three on offer: sliced Kampachi with creamy hot yellow pepper sauce ($12). This preparation might more accurately be called tiradito, which is distinguished from ceviche by two things: slices of fish rather than chunks, and a lack of onions. The sashimi-thin yellowtail was covered in spicy sauce and garnished with a salad of pickled English cucumbers, soft yam coins, and giant corn. Though I liked the cut of the delicate fish, the sauce completely overpowered it. My favorite part was the salad, which I devoured. I'd like a bowl right now, as a matter of fact.

Next we shared artichokes filled with quinoa salad and lemon parsley sauce ($12). The baby artichokes could have been trimmed better to eliminate all the tough outer leaves, but the salad itself was dreamy: cool quinoa topped with roasted red peppers, fried shallots, and a subtle, well-balanced sauce I'd love to eat, drink, and bathe in from now until the end of time.

For dinner, we went with heartier classics. My boyfriend ordered the "Lomo Saltado" ($26.75), essentially Peruvian steak frites scattered with cilantro and served with stir-fried onions and thick slabs of crisp yucca fries. A pink filet with a nicely charred coat was sliced thin and dressed in a sprightly sauce of beef stock, soy sauce, red wine vinegar, and its own savory juices. I plan to order this on every single future visit; it would be the perfect hangover cure if it were added to the lunch menu.

The leg of lamb simmered in cilantro sauce with peas and risotto ($25) tasted, of all things, Indian. I think it's easy to see why, given the ingredients. Though I ran across a few less than tender chunks, the sauce and the Parmesan-rich risotto more than made up for it. Whisked to the table in its very own miniature Le Creuset, the risotto was spooned up tableside. Since the wee pot kept it nice and warm, I compulsively nibbled on it long after my hunger was sated. Was it Peruvian? Not so far as I could tell. But it was damn good. And, like the steak, the portion was reasonable enough to finish without feeling stuffed.

Credit for the well-edited and well-priced wine list goes to Luis Maya, Essencia's unofficial sommelier. All the selections are imported, with the majority from Spain and Argentina, and their relatively low alcohol levels make them particularly food-friendly. We enjoyed a 2006 Laxas Albariño ($9) and a 2006 Sur de los Andes Torrontes ($7) to start. I loved the Torrontes, which is a grape more often used for blending than drunk straight up. It had honey on the nose but tasted surprisingly dry. We switched to reds for the main course, but the other real standout was the Pedro Romero Amontillado sherry ($7), which was a beautiful amber color and bright with citrus.

Desserts showcased a variety of Peruvian fruits like lucama and guanavana (also known as guanabana or soursop and similar to cherimoya). The latter is a creamy fruit with citrus and vanilla notes that was perfectly suited to Essencia's fresh strawberry-topped mousse ($6). But the real must-have sweet was the plate of alfajores ($4.50), buttery cookies stuck together with a sinful stamp of dulce de leche. One of the cookies incorporated fresh coconut into the ooey-gooey middle, but I preferred the luxury of pure caramel goodness.

What ultimately makes me prefer Essencia to the city's other Peruvian-inflected restaurants is the prevalence of lighter dishes. As a result, most of the flavors, both indigenous and imported, really shine. It's also the best kind of neighborhood restaurant: friendly, appealing, comfortable, and reasonably priced. Regardless what culinary traditions influence the menu, that's always a recipe for success.

Note: This visit was a first impression, and the meal was comped.

Essencia
401 Gough Street at Hayes
San Francisco
(415) 552-8485
Open Monday-Saturday for lunch and dinner

Note: A write-up of any restaurant that has been open less than a month is considered a "First Impression." Meaning, we want to bring you the latest and greatest from around SF but acknowledge that new spots may have some kinks to work out. We keep that in mind, and you should, too.

Is Peruvian the new "it" food? Judging by the slew of articles written about it in the last year, the answer is a resounding si. From the New York Times to USA Today, from Gourmet to the Washington Post, it's getting a lot of buzz. Nuevo Latino cooking isn't new to San Francisco; we've been enjoying Fresca and Limon for years. Nevertheless, three weeks after Piqueo's opened, I found myself winding my way up the pockmarked hills of Bernal Heights to see what the city's newest Peruvian place had to offer.

If the swarms of hungry locals are any indication, Piqueo's is already a full-blown success. When my friend and I walked in, it was still light outside and the restaurant was only half-full, but for the better part of dinner, I watched the seemingly never-ending crowd on the sidewalk outside replenish itself every time a lucky group sat down. Undoubtedly, one of the secrets to Piqueo's instantaneous popularity is the mere virtue of its existence: this is a part of town with very few chic restaurants. Chef/owner Carlos Altamirano and his wife Shu (who also own Mochica) put a lot of care into making the space sophisticated and inviting. Arched doorways divide the restaurant into three rooms, and the many windows keep it feeling light and airy. Vivid photographs of modern-day Peru hang on brick red walls, and a lemon tree blooms on the granite bar in front of the petite open kitchen.

Piqueo's bills itself as "contemporary Peruvian cuisine," which seems to mean a mix of California-grown ingredients and items flown in from Altamirano's native Peru -- the giant corn that appears in nearly every dish, for instance -- combined in authentic Peruvian preparations. The menu is divided into piqueos (small plates), ceviches, and entrées. Every meal begins with a small bowl of what they call picadillos, a mixture of fried whole garbanzo beans and dried corn kernels showered with flecks of tomato, red onion, cilantro and queso fresco. It was served with a spoon and nothing else, so we ended up eating it with our fingers. If heroin is anything like these zingy niblets, I can see how you might not notice when Social Services takes your kid. Thank God my friend was dieting -- I got to eat most of the bowl myself.

Since ceviche is a signature Peruvian dish, we started with the ceviche mixto ($14). Like nearly everything we ordered, it was dramatically plated. Two mussels on the half-shell and a tangle of raw red onion sheltered chunks of halibut, squid, and prawns. The lime marinade was brash and spicy thanks to aji limo and rocoto, red Peruvian chilies, and we found ourselves wishing for a spoon to better lap it up. The bright coral prawns were the best part of the dish, and if I went again, I'd simply order the ceviche de camarones.

After one bite, I dismissed the choclo peruano ($9) as too much like the picadillos to be worth ordering separately. But the cold salad of giant Peruvian corn, chunks of queso fresco, tomatoes, red onions, and lemon-oregano dressing eventually won me over. Though its flavors are indeed similar -- it's practically the same dish, except for the fried garbanzos -- it provided a cool and spirited contrast to the warm dishes we ordered. Word to the wise: it's hard to avoid palate fatigue when so many dishes are seasoned with the same spices and flavors, so order carefully.

Our waitress raved about the anticuchon ($10), skewered sirloin brochettes drizzled with sweet and spicy BBQ-style panca sauce, but we found the meat overcooked and the sauce salty beyond reason. I simply couldn't finish what I put on my plate. It was also one-dimensional, save for the delectable puddle of avocado crema, which might have rescued a properly seasoned rendition from monotony.

Other than the picadillos, our favorite dish of the night was a plate of fried plantains in an orange-cinnamon glaze ($7). I'm not much for bananas, but I have adored plantains since I first tried them in an El Salvadoran restaurant with a heap of black beans and tangy sour cream on the side. As our waitress warned us, these are sweet enough to be dessert, so we decided to eat them last. From the caramelized sugars in the sauce to the slightly sour, creamy mash of the platanitos, every bite was bliss.

Unfortunately, we'd forgotten about the garlic shrimp ($10) still coming our way. After dessert, it was hard to go back, and when I woke up with vampire-slaying breath the next morning, I sort of wished I hadn't. Still, the shrimp were nicely cooked and the griddled bread was the perfect sponge for all that garlicky sauce.

Our waitress was knowledgeable and friendly, and any small flubs in service -- the lack of changed plates between courses, the traffic jam of dishes sent out too quickly by the kitchen -- should work themselves out as Piqueo's gets through opening month madness. Even if they don't, I'm already craving those picadillos.

Piqueo's
830 Cortland Avenue
San Francisco
(415) 282-8812
Open for dinner 7 nights a week