Leslie Forman
January 10, 2012 — By Leslie Forman

Madam Tusan: Chinese Cuisine with Peruvian & Chilean Characteristics

I wrote this a few months back, right when the restaurant opened. A delicious side of modern China-Chile relations!  Madam Tusan, a Chinese-Peruvian restaurant, opened a few months ago at Parque Arauco, an upscale mall that looks like it could be in Southern California. We visited the restaurant after reading this tempting review in the […]

I wrote this a few months back, right when the restaurant opened. A delicious side of modern China-Chile relations! 

Madam Tusan, a Chinese-Peruvian restaurant, opened a few months ago at Parque Arauco, an upscale mall that looks like it could be in Southern California.

We visited the restaurant after reading this tempting review in the September 30, 2011 edition of Wikén, the Friday magazine of Chile’s most prominent newspaper, El Mercurio, I translated parts of it into English. 

Chifa Cuisine Arrives in Chile: Fusion of Chinese and Peruvian Gastronomy. by Bárbara Muñoz S. 

Cebiche con wantanes? Not only is it possible, it’s delicious. The tasty mix of Peruvian and Chinese cuisine – sweet-and-sour, intense, and with an important historical weight – has just landed in Chile, in the Boulevard of Parque Arauco, by the hand of Gastón Acurio and his ultimate whim: Madam Tusan.

When he was a child, Gastón Acurio – today a super-famous chef, mega-businessman, and face of the Peruvian gastronomic revolution – asked for “una chifa” for his birthday. His parents thought he wanted to celebrate by eating at one of the many Chinese restaurants that existed in Lima, known as “chifas.” But what he had in mind was something else: he wanted to HAVE a chifa.

When I visited the restaurant, I spoke with Liliana Com, who was visiting from the main location in Lima to manage the Santiago location’s opening. Liliana is “tusan,” or Peruvian-born Chinese.

I asked Liliana about the derivation of the word “tusan.” Does it come from the familiar Chinese words for “earth” and “three”? Not directly, she explained; there are specific words for different generations of Japanese descendents – issei, nissei, sansei for first, second, and third generation, respectively – but not similar words for Chinese descendants, at least not in the Peruvian vernacular.

The first Chinese arrived in Peru around 1854, when slavery was abolished and landowners needed a new labor source.

The El Mercurio piece describes how this migration shaped Peruvian cuisine.

“Many of those Chinese stayed to live forever and never stopped eating their food. In fact, part of their payment was in rice,” explains Liliana. The combination of Chinese techniques and Peruvian ingredients gave rise to chifa cuisine. As time passed, the immigrants and their families installed themselves on Capón Street, in the center of Lima, which developed into a Chinese neighborhood. “In this time the chifas in Lima were opium dens and a kind of red-light district where the ‘madams’ reigned over the places,” tells Liliana. From that comes the name Madam Tusan.

When I pulled this newspaper clipping from my bag, Liliana pointed out that El Mercurio misquoted her. She clarified that the Chinese neighborhood was “not a place for families,” but the Chinese restaurants were NOT opium dens and brothels. She became quite animated when she said this, as it clearly touched a nerve.

So, you might be wondering, how was the food? Delicious!

My companion and I started off with fresh juice (the restaurant had yet to receive its liquor license.)

Then one of the dozens of attentive waiters (unusual in Chile – this country is not known for customer service) presented three types of chili sauce. The spiciest one featured crushed peppers from Jilin, China. The second mixed Peruvian chilies and crushed ginger. The third was hoisin con rocoto: a blend of hoisin, the sweet sauce that traditionally accompanies Peking Duck, and rocoto, a Peruvian spice paste.

Next we enjoyed the butifarra china, a plate of three delicate sandwiches filled with pork, cilantro, julienned vegetables and hoisin con rocoto on steamed buns.

The Pollo Bruce Lee – which came with a warning of solo para valientes – reminded me of the gong bao ji ding (chicken with peanuts, chilies, and other vegetables) that I ate so often in China.

Our most elaborate dish was camarones rellenos a la naranja, enormous shrimp stuffed with almonds, battered, fried and topped with a sweet-and-sour orange sauce and green onions. It reminded me of a dish you might find at an upscale, fusion-inspired restaurant in San Francisco.

Our final dish was a simple chaufa con pollo, fried rice with chicken and eggs. It was tasty and simple, and closer to home cooking than the complex dishes that sat beside it.

My Chilean dining companion found the food spicier than what he normally eats. (Chilean food is relatively bland: lots of bread, sandwiches, and barbecue.) But he really enjoyed the mix of flavors and the overall experience.

He also loved the design of the red leather chairs.

Overall, our experience at Madam Tusan lived up to its tantalizing review, and showed a stylish, modern, and globalized face of China in Chile.

Madam Tusan. Boulevard del Parque Arauco. Avenida Presidente Kennedy 5413, Las Condes, Santiago.  Call for reservations: 02-2190152. Lunch for two, including non-alcoholic beverages and tip: 30.000 Chilean pesos (roughly $60.)