I don’t often hang in Hudson Yards, but for Papa San, I would. The fifth venture from chef Erik Ramirez and restaurateur Juan Correa, who began invigorating New York, Madrid and London’s dining scenes with a Japanese-Peruvian fusion cuisine called Nikkei in 2015, opened to the public Thursday, Feb 18. Around 5 p.m. the following night, I walk, somehow outmaneuvering the rather harsh wind, from the after-work crowd funneling down 10th Avenue into the corner restaurant on West 34th Street.
Papa San is a sprawling street-level space in The Spiral Building (a sustainable glass skyscraper that debuted in 2023, with terraces that twirl around each of its 66 stories). Inside, the place glows magenta, thanks to the neon Papa San sign that hovers above the 18-seat circular bar. The dining room is large and narrow, with 120 table seats and a lengthy open kitchen packed with line chefs in blue caps working under yellow lights.
It’s still happy hour, and I grab a booth on the bar side. From my perspective, it’s one of the best spots in the house and solidifies the Llama Group’s intention to keep Papa San casual, a deliberate move straying from their elevated contemporary approach at Llama Inn and more focused, technique-heavy approach at Llama San. My table is next to the one-story-high pink spiral staircase and a leafy tree, and has views of the buzzy bar scene, kitchen and commuters hustling in the world that exists around this pink Peruvian sanctuary inspired by Tokyo’s izakaya: Japanese pubs or bars serving drinks and shareable snacks, great for gathering late-night.
“Papa San is about accessibility and fun. It’s designed to be a lively, welcoming space where the flavors of Japanese-Peruvian cooking are prepared in a way that feels effortless and inviting,” Ramirez tells Observer.
Nikkei is at the heart of all of Ramirez and Correa’s restaurants. “Nikkei is about respecting the essence of both cuisines—honoring the precision, balance and purity of Japanese culinary traditions while embracing the bold, vibrant and ingredient-driven nature of Peruvian food,” Ramirez says. “The result is a cuisine that is both deeply rooted in history and constantly evolving, shaped by generations of cultural exchange.”
The menu does just that. Everything is meant to be shared, with a recommendation of three to four dishes per person (six to eight for a table of two), unless you opt for the “whole chicken experience for two.” For $90, this includes the entire bird, coursed out so diners can savor each part, including bone broth, yakitori (bite-sized grilled pieces), chicken breast escabeche cooked in vinegar, a chicken and egg rice bowl called oyakodon and a plate of the crispy skin. Seeing as I want to try more dishes, I don’t indulge in this but would another night when the mood strikes…for chicken.
My server, from Peru, is knowledgeable and charming, and describes every dish with ease. The bartender, who swoops in to deliver drinks is gregarious and the hosts are attentive from greetings to goodbyes. The meal, though intended to be low-key and unassuming, is still guided by attentive service, which is always appreciated. It’s inherently relaxed yet upbeat. Midway through dinner, the bar area and most of the dining room filled with a diverse group of young-ish New Yorkers, lifting chopsticks from plate to plate and sipping small glass cups of cerveza.
Typical of Peru, ceviches and tiraditos (thinly sliced raw fish in spicy sauce) start the menu off. Aside from the vegetarian “ceviche” of shiitake mushrooms with ponzu and walnuts, each dish is characterized by a unique feature: fruit. Grilled and marinated octopus with persimmons and wasabi; razor clams and lychee (one of Correa’s favorites), mackerel with koshihikari rice and banana; and fluke with avocado and grapes—a highlight of my meal. Fresh, delicate slices of raw fluke and diced avocado bathed in a luscious avocado sauce. A hint of spice balanced the creaminess while being cut by the grape’s juicy sweetness. Bits of puffed rice provided texture for a well-balanced bite.
Makis (Peruvian sushi rolls) and zensai (“appetizah,” the menu cheerfully translates) accentuate Peru’s bold, bright flavors with Japanese ingredients and flair. The makis inch towards indulgent with creamy add-ins and fried shellfish. All three contain cucumber, avocado and seaweed rolled inside rice, then smothered in their defining toppings. Raw scallops swim in a parmesan sauce so rich it borders on overpowering with a lively pop of wasabi tobiko. The rock shrimp tempura held its ground with some coconut and a tangy kick of heat from pickled serrano. The blue crab, my “I’d get this again” order, with homemade tartar sauce was topped with chives and served on crunchy rolls drenched in a spicy, sticky togarashi sauce.
For the zensai, Ramirez and Correa utter a quick Italian whisper with an Udon noodle cacio pepe with wok squid, as well as an eel pizza with shiitake mushrooms and pecorino. There is pork—one a comforting egg custard called chawanmushi with veggies, nuts and miso ground pork, and another featuring crispy pork belly with tsukemono cucumber. Some lighter bits include bok choy-apple salad and cucumber with wood ear mushrooms and white sesame.
The mains, still sized proportionately for smaller, shareable bites, include robataya (a selection of meats, seafood and veggies on the grill) and donabes, Japanese clay pot stews and soups. After making my way through the starters, I opted for the yellowfin tuna in ponzu sauce as well as the root vegetable and rice cake skewers. Simple, straightforward and touched with heat, the tuna was wonderful when paired with the “Best Friends,” which at $5 a pop, I highly recommend with any protein dish. This moment truly felt like an izakaya—my chopsticks pairing morsels of rectangular rice cake with fermented cabbage; kimchi and vinegar cucumbers with sweet and spicy yellowfin.
As for drinking portion of an izakaya, the cocktail and mocktail programs capitalize on adventurous flavor combinations, such as in the Mango No. 5 (sake, mango, black garlic and beer) or the Golden Curry (Toki whiskey, vanilla, salsa tres chiles, cilantro, clarified lemon and curry aji amarillo, indigenous to the Andes Mountains) or the non-alcoholic, velvety purple Chicha Morada, made with purple corn, pineapple, apple and cinnamon (delicious if you like something sweet, or better cut with soda
The desserts remained in Papa San’s lane of inventive Nekkei with joyful options like chicha morada kakigori—a flavored shaved ice served with rice pudding—and soft-serve ice cream honoring both Japan (vanilla soy milk with matcha and sesame oil) and Peru (lucuma with chocolate sauce, olive oil and salt). Plus, for sweet-toothed groups, there’s a sundae party with both ice creams, toppings and churros.
“We are looking to have fun and continue showcasing everything Peru to New Yorkers,” Correa says. “We Peruvians disagree about pretty much everything, but the greatness of our food is one thing that unites us.”
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