I went to Tokyo for Latin American food
Serving Peruvian cuisine through Japanese ingredients, MAZ holds one of the city's most unique menu concepts.
I was introduced to Peruvian cuisine about five years ago by my father, after one of his patients returned from a trip to Lima and spent his entire appointment proselytizing their food. So he took me to Tanta Chicago, where we tried pulpo anticuchero, yuquitas con huancaína, lomo saltado, and pollo a la brasa. And already I was asking questions. Why did this Latin American dish feature a stir-fry, and why was it so unique to the ingredients we were having?
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” he said as we left the restaurant. “It’s just roast chicken and potatoes.”
I, however, had fallen in love.
Now I gatekeep the happy hour at Kayao because I don’t want it getting too packed. I crave their leche de tigre oysters regularly, and if I come in on a slow day and ask nicely enough the chef will send me a half order so I can get my fix without dropping $20 on them. Akiro Handroll Bar recently opened its second location in Chicago after a successful run in Madrid (an anomalous choice of second city, but I’m certainly not complaining), which ended up being my favorite new Chicago restaurant in ‘25.
Naturally it follows that one of my strongest culinary opinions is that Peruvian cuisine is criminally underrated outside of the culinary world.
When I told people that Den and MAZ were my two Michelin hopefuls in Tokyo, they looked at me funny and asked why I wanted to try Peruvian food in Japan, which is a question that always made me laugh because I can’t imagine it being posed if I’d said Sezanne or L’Effervescence, which are French, instead.
Yes, of course I want to try Peruvian food in Japan – Japan is literally encoded into the cuisine’s DNA. The modern version of Peruvian ceviche, the national dish, carries Japanese influence; Nikkei as a discipline exists for a reason; and Nobu’s famous miso black cod is a global export of that lineage.
To be clear: MAZ isn’t doing Nikkei. It’s doing Peruvian cuisine structured around the country’s megabiodiversity, using Japanese produce. That interplay was exactly what caught my attention. These two cuisines represent different extremes – native Japanese food tends to be light and delicate while Peruvian cuisine is most definitely not, so a marriage between the two should fall somewhere in the middle. And because both cultures care deeply about geography and seasonality, I knew that commitment to authenticity would be honored here.
The space and vibe
After rolling out of my Uber at 8:28 for an 8:30 reservation, I glance around the giant complex grateful I didn’t opt for my taller heels and take off at a brusque speedwalk (☝️ not run) in some general direction that thankfully turns out to be the correct one. When I get to the restaurant I see a sliding wood door recessed into a stone wall facade, the thin lettering of the restaurant’s name nearly vanishing into the rock. Don’t worry about missing that because there are three Michelin plaques next to the door.
A member of the team is waiting for me there and enters the code to let us in, which kind of bums me out because I wanted to punch it in, but they don’t let you do anything when you pay hundreds of dollars for a meal!!
The space is tiny and dark. Chicago’s Cariño still holds the record for the smallest Michelin restaurant I’ve dined at, but MAZ isn’t much bigger with a total of seven tables in the space.
The vibe is also damn near the polar opposite of Den’s, where I dined the week before — stark slate grays and browns dominate an incredibly minimalist and impersonal setting. There’s no vibrancy in the space at all, and I immediately wonder how it compares to older sibling Central. It’s visually cold and dark, completely lacking any windows – it kind of feels like you’re in a manmade cave. It’s almost barren, in a way I’m not a fan of.
The atmosphere is classical fine dining. Rainforest sounds play over soft ambient music. Conversation is muted and formal. Service is very sharp and attentive as I hear the team switch effortlessly between Spanish, English, and Japanese with the other patrons around me. The vibe is luxe, and even the warm towels provided between courses are imbued with citrus. If you’re familiar with the Chicago fine dining scene, it reminded me a lot of Ever and Oriole. That means it’s firmly on the formal end of the spectrum — again, a sharp contrast from the atmosphere at Den, where chef Zaiyu was walking around showing us pics from his fishing trip (on the Amazon!!).
The meal and experience
My experience begins with a walkthrough of Peruvian ingredients at a counter you’re brought to when you first walk in. I love the impromptu lesson on geology and pre-Columbian Latin American food, and I’m told nearly everything presented will show up throughout the meal, at about an 80/20 balance of Japanese to Peruvian ingredients. The Peruvian ingredients are sourced through their biodiversity research project back home known as MATER. This became the first of many times that evening that I wished I had the opportunity to dine at Central first – I kept getting the impression that I was experiencing the sequel before the original.
I’m then seated and order my drink. I get one of the only Peruvian wines I see on the menu, an orange wine known as Italia. I only learned about orange wines recently when a friend ordered one at Lardon during my Chicago grease pilgrimage disguised as a goodbye tour (sorry to friends, I used you all to eat more food. But your exploitation at my hands was worth it, because Lardon has been one of my favorite finds this year!)
I tend to prefer white wines, so I figured I’d like this, and I was right: it’s slightly dry and not too sweet. My waitress offered me a darker orange wine off-menu and I kind of wish I’d taken her up on it, but with this being my first one I wanted something closer to what I knew I liked. Educating myself on alcohol has been burning a hole through my wallet in Tokyo, but damn if it hasn’t been worth it nearly every time. This city has blown me away in almost every capacity.
Then I’m introduced to the restaurant’s concept, which is presented as a journey through altitudes toward the Amazon rainforest. I believe it’s an exact mirror of Central’s conceit. Each course is also paired with a texture or illustration that reflects it. I thought these accents were cute, if a bit gimmicky, until I learned that some are custom illustrations, and then they grew on me a little bit more. I also have to mention that I absolutely loved the tableware here. It was fun, unique, and very faithful to the restaurant’s identity.
However, I do think the concept could use a little more refinement. It’s meant to be a journey through elevation, but I felt it jumped around without enough narrative to explain why. The sourcing is obviously incredibly meticulous and extremely well done, but the actual progression of it just didn’t feel as cohesive.
As for the main event, I knew that the food would be a winner from the very first course. To start, the meal is so visually striking. I’m not sure if I’ve ever had a more beautiful meal in my life, and the flavors and textures were meeting that visual beauty in spades. I feel like a part of the reason the space is so minimalist is to let the vibrancy of the meal shine, and shine it does.
Coastal Seafloor (-10 MBSL)
The clam three ways is a very strong start. I’m breaking open a citric ice cream to fish murugai clam out of the most delicious ceviche I’ve had in my life. Raw akagai clam is blanketed in a gelatin “dumpling skin” with Japanese vegetables and seaweed. The hokkigai and seaweed in gelatin ends up being one of my favorite bites of the meal, full stop. The flavors in that one are reminiscent of South Asian flavors to me for some reason, but I couldn’t exactly tell you why.
Jungle Pond (185 MASL)
The next course is my first time trying turtle. This is what I love about Japan – I’ve tried raw horse, tongue, neck, gizzards, fish eyes, and turtle here for the first time. The turtle is served two ways, as a sausage and stew. Both are delicious, and the stew has so much going on that I’m struggling to tell which part was even the turtle meat. It almost tastes like a Peruvian peanut minestrone — that’s the best way I can place it flavor-wise. The veggies on top (yes, those little squares everyone was asking about on Insta) were delicious and provided a nice contrast. Eating this felt like half the dishes I had at Oriole – a lot of “I have no idea what the hell I’m eating, but it’s absolutely delicious”.
Cold Sea Water (-5 MBSL)
Next was the obligatory Hokkaido scallop course, and at this point I’ve had scallop so many times on tasting menus that I’m starting to feel a little insulted. Do chefs really think we’re that easy to impress just by adding scallop on the menu?
It turns out this is the most unique scallop dish I’ve ever had. As he presents it to me, Fernandez says I may have noticed that the gelatin-like scallop emulsion is meant to mimic the ceramic ware. I nod like I did (I didn’t). Thankfully, it’s not clever at the expense of deliciousness. The leche de tigre, heavy on the cilantro, is so good I want to cry.
Andean Plateau (2820 MASL)
I try wagyu tongue for the first time and don’t like it, but that’s not the fault of the dish. The flatbread is incredible. And since we’ve been talking so much about the intentionality behind the sourcing, this was one of the standout courses about how smart they are about it. This is the only time that beef is used on the menu, because the Andean plateau is the only place in Peru that cattle can be raised.
Pacific Current (-20 MBSL)
A great salad: sour, acrid, citrusy, weird in the best way. No notes.
Ocean Haze (-35 MBSL)
The ocean course features grilled octopus and cod roe, and since I can’t see any of the actual ingredients again I’m not quite sure, but I’m pretty sure this is milt, not roe. This is what I hate about Japan – I think I’ve just tried cod sperm sacs for the first time. I’m a little pissed to be eating them, but it’s fine.
I feel like now’s a good time to flag that gels and foams feature frequently in this meal, so if that isn’t your vibe, this may not be for you. I don’t think it falls into the fine dining trap of being dominated by them, but if they bother you, they’re definitely here.
Woods in the Highland (3200 MASL)
This was the only course of the meal that felt like it needed a second draft, and the pork meat was a bit tough. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was actually wild boar or some other crazy shit like that. I am a woman of luxury — I can taste when the meat has lived a rough life. If I’m going to be eating pork, it needs to be from those pigs getting spoon-fed açai bowls like at Butagumi.
The vegetable that resembled chestnut, however, was absolutely delicious with the dipping sauce. I also loved the way this was presented within the edible clay, which featured during the pre-dinner geology lesson.
High Jungle Rainforest (750 MASL)
It’s delicious. This pomelo-based fruit assortment for dessert seems a bit simple on its own, but the lemon verbena and coconut really elevate it a lot, and the lightness of this dish made better sense in the context of the course that followed it. It’s meant to act as a palate cleanser before the heaviness of the chocolate.
Amazonia (840 MASL)
This chocolate course is sourced directly from their partners through MATER and, in my opinion, translated the most directly to the restaurant’s vision. I adored it – everything got rated a 10, at minimum. I’m so mad that I had to enjoy this after I was already full because it was so fucking good. It was so fun, and playful, and holistic, using every single part of the cacao plant. For a project so focused on sustainability, this was a really impressive example.
Final thoughts
In short, MAZ met my incredibly high expectations. The menu concept is so unique among the breadth of Japanese and French Michelin restaurants in Tokyo, and well worth it for that alone. The food is exceptionally beautiful and even more delicious. The entire team was great—service is polished and deeply professional. I will say that it’s very classical and by the book, almost in a way that it could let itself breathe a little more. Chalk that up to personal preference if you want.
With the Tokyo food scene being as cutthroat as it is, and in the context of MAZ being Central’s younger sibling, I wonder if the restraint of the space and vibe is a deliberate choice by the head of hospitality or Fernandez himself. For that reason, I’m eager to see what he can do on future projects that don’t operate within a pre-existing framework, and where the authorship is fully his.
I learned that he’s leaving at the end of March, and since I haven’t been to Central, I guess my questions around MAZ’s identity may be better answered by what changes after his departure. Being Venezuelan himself, I’m curious as to whether he will embark on a more personal project next. I guess these questions of identity are at the top of my mind after having visited Den less than a week before. I truly wasn’t expecting to get there first, but I’m really glad it worked out that way because I don’t think I would have had the perspective to ask them otherwise.
You can definitely tell that MAZ is part of a larger project, and that the soul of it is over in Lima. If you care enough about a restaurant’s identity standing on its own and you don’t plan on exploring the rest of Central’s ecosystem, I can see you being disappointed by this aspect of it. Personally, it wasn’t a big deal to me – if it’s going to be so integrated into Martinez’s larger ecosystem, they could even lean into that research group and larger restaurant network more. Intrigue me enough that I’ll want to visit Lima or wherever else you decide to open a new location!
This’ll be an odd comparison, but it’s how I felt visiting bw cave (after getting banished from an attempted walk-in at The Bellwood), then The Bellwood (after showing up half an hour before open to avoid repeat exile), then the SG Club (having thoroughly done my research at this point, they accept walk-ins in the basement starting at 9pm. This isn’t advertised anywhere. You’re welcome.)
These Tokyo sister bars have incredibly distinct identities, but experiencing all of them separately gave me so many a-ha moments where I was like “Oh! Okay! I see how this all connects now!”. I found the running theme of the creators’ visions, and that’s a very satisfying thing to do. It felt like I was on a treasure hunt. I’d like to feel the same when I eventually visit the other projects in this group, but I don’t want to feel like I’m experiencing the same concept in Lima, or Tokyo, or wherever else Martinez decides to branch off next.
But at the end of the day, this is about the food—and the food doesn’t have these issues. This ranks pretty far up there among my favorite fine dining meals. I would happily visit MAZ again, I’m looking forward to seeing what kind of project Fernandez takes on next, and I’m very excited to see what Central has in store for me when I make it to Lima one day.
Visit date: February 19th, 2026.