It's not what you think, the food is quite good. Inka must serve domestic sodas, but there you can try some Inka Cola, the Peruvian equivalent of Coca-Cola. If you were a sommelier trying to find a pairing for Inka Cola, you'd be working the birthday party of an eight year old where the only food is bubble gum. This is an achingly sweet concentrate of artificial flavor. One sip, and the Shangri-la effect would kick in right away.

We had to try, if only to educate ourselves. It was the only major faux pas at Inka, a homey little restaurant which took over the old bank/Rock Soup/Stray Fish space. The space is rather dramatic, even intimidating from outside -- is it going to be too hip for us? --, but the restaurant is a charming little family affair. We found a kid playing around while her mom was waiting on us, and the dad cooking. Don't expect a professional polish of an institute trained waiter, and forgive the few mistakes that are bound to happen. In our case, they were slow to refill water, or forgot to write down -- and thus cook -- one order.

Picture of the Inka building in its Stray Fish incarnation, courtesy of