The representation of so many cultures and heritages through delicious, history-rich cuisines is present everywhere in London, accessible for any budget. Yet, as with any exile, I would sometimes find myself homesick, longing for the flavors of home.

I would daydream about my grandma’s magical and comforting ají de gallina, or the tasty pork tamales from the corner vendors after church on Sundays. I missed the weekly treat of running to our local juice bar in the market across the street from my grandma’s house, my eyes and senses overwhelmed by the vibrant colors and ripe sweetness of the fruits on offer. Each time I faced the euphoric challenge of choosing between papaya, mango juice, or a batido de lúcuma. I remembered the amazing picanterías and cevicherías of Lima, where you could indulge in the tangy, fresh, and rich flavors of beautiful dishes based on fish and seafood. The absence of these flavors and the lack of representation of my culture pushed me to start recreating and sharing these dishes — a way to keep this part of my identity alive and to offer it with pride.

Back then, Peruvian cuisine wasn’t the trend, it was simply unheard of outside its borders. One of my first steps in showcasing any culinary skills was making ceviche for a discerning audience — or more accurately, for a group of thankful but skeptical friends. It was fun explaining that the lime ”cooks” the raw fish in ceviche, and that’s how you eat it. At that time, people were just starting to discover sushi. I kept my day job, and that was the end of it.

And now, here we are opening Canta Lola with that original idea—but version 2.0. Delayed by a couple of decades, shaped by evolution, time, and other joyful life choices, the dream of sharing our food culture remained very much alive. Now, with a clearer vision and the sum of many influences and experiences, we open our doors in the heart of Stockholm.