The journey of Merito is remarkable.
When I used to live in Peru, Merito was one of my most visited restaurants. With its delicious, unpretentious food and à la carte menu, it was an obvious place to meet friends—reliable, generous, and full of character. After Covid, Merito began experimenting with tasting menus for select events. Not long after, they acquired the neighboring apartment, more than doubling the size of the kitchen and expanding the dining room. With that expansion came ambition, and today dinner at Merito is tasting-menu only.
The last time I visited, à la carte was still an option. This time, I was curious to experience what I can only call “the new Merito.” The question was simple: had they managed to retain what made the casual version so compelling while moving fully into fine dining?
When you enter the restaurant, you step directly into the kitchen, which is also where we would enjoy our meal. The setting is intimate and notably more relaxed than many counter-dining experiences I’ve had. The kitchen remains small, but to me this is an advantage. You naturally interact with nearly every chef, and instead of watching a single station, you witness the entire choreography of the menu coming together.
The first three dishes all revolved around the universe of tiradito—at least from my point of view. Fresh fish paired with fruits and ingredients from the Amazon, interpreted in three very different ways. All were delicious, but more importantly, each expressed a distinct idea. The first, with yacon, kiwicha, and lightly cured fish, was visually striking and barely resembled a tiradito at all. The second followed a similarly abstract path, intricate in presentation and meant to be eaten with the hands. The final version stayed closest to tradition: scallop with sanky and jalapeño. Here, flavor and presentation were in perfect balance, the razor-thin, gelatin-like squares reinforcing Merito’s now-signature geometric visual language. Together, the sequence demonstrated how a deeply familiar Peruvian dish can be stretched, reshaped, and elevated without losing its emotional anchor.
One of the most beloved dishes from Merito’s à la carte days was grilled choclo—large white corn grilled and served with cheese. Rather than abandoning it, the kitchen chose to translate it into a fine-dining context. The result is a choclo bread, cooked inside the corn husk and served with a sauce made from chicha de jora, a fermented corn drink, finished with onion ash. I first tasted the original nearly eight years ago, and this dish brought back the same excitement—rooted in flavor and tradition—despite its entirely new form. What was once a mouthwatering, simple à la carte dish inspired by street food has become a fully realized fine-dining expression, without sacrificing its soul.
Trout, a staple in the Andean mountains and one of the few river fish commonly eaten there, followed next, served with hucatay sauce and kiwicha. It was delicious and straightforward. The same cannot be said for the dish that followed. Juan Luis’ wife runs a design studio responsible for the visual identity of his restaurants, and here the cohesion between design and cuisine feels intentional. The plating of the paiche—a massive Amazonian fish that can grow up to three meters—was so precise that, with different colors, it could belong in a gallery. A small piece of paiche was served fried in tempura, its rich flavor somewhere between fish and pork, paired with crunchy batter and tucupi, another Amazonian ferment. As with many dishes here, the impact lay in the details, down to the oxidized yacon leaf used to wrap the fish.
The first time I encountered “curry-like” flavors in Peru, it surprised me. It wasn’t something I expected to find. Yet in the Amazon, spices are often combined in ways that echo curry, though more floral and fruity. This idea appeared next, paired with river crab or langoustine, reinforcing how regional Peruvian flavors continue to defy outside expectations.
Dessert came in two small servings. The first, a frozen parfait-like structure with sharp acidity, felt distinctly Amazonian—something that could only exist in Latin America. The second was a delicate foam that dissolved almost immediately. Together, they showcased strong technical control and a clear understanding of contrast, both in flavor and texture, making them intelligent and fitting conclusions to the menu.
Ranked number 29 on the World’s 50 Best Restaurants list, Merito has undoubtedly come a long way from its beginnings as a simple bistro. What has evolved is not only the food, but the entire experience. The practical metal counter is gone, replaced by warm wood. Dishes arrive on carefully crafted wooden trays, echoing the restaurant’s geometric visual language. Glassware is of excellent quality, supporting a thoughtful wine pairing. I particularly appreciated the menu’s scale: three snacks, four main dishes, and dessert. The experience lasts around two and a half hours—satisfying without being exhausting. This also allows Merito to offer two seatings per evening, keeping the restaurant accessible rather than reserved solely for special occasions. Despite the efficiency, the pacing never feels rushed.
A now-famous New York Times article once declared the death of fine dining. Restaurants like Merito quietly disprove that claim. Fine dining is very much alive—it is simply transforming. Merito shows that a luxury experience does not require stiff service, white tablecloths, or imported prestige ingredients. Instead, it is built on creativity, flavor, and confidence, without mimicking the traditional three-star template. The result is a restaurant that has evolved from a casual neighborhood favorite into a refined dining destination, all while preserving the identity and spirit that made it special in the first place
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