Miraflores, Lima
Oscar Velarde is the heart and soul behind La Gloria, one of Lima's most iconic restaurants and a true benchmark of Peruvian gastronomy. With over 30 years at the helm, Oscar has masterfully combined tradition with a modern touch, staying true to his unique and unconventional style. His philosophy is rooted in authenticity and respect for local ingredients, many of which come directly from his farm in Pachacámac. More than just a restaurateur, Oscar is a natural host, passionate about food, art, and the conversations that bring people together. His story is that of someone who found in Peruvian flavors a way to celebrate and share the best of our culture.
Are you a trained chef?
No.
What sparked your passion for food?
It wasn’t really about the food—it was about having fun. Before opening the restaurant, I used to host amazing gatherings at my house, and I’ve always been a great host. I enjoy being around people, talking to all kinds of folks, and connecting with them. So, I asked myself, “What should I do?” The reason I opened a restaurant was because I went bankrupt in the business I was in.
What kind of business was it?
It was in fishing. I worked in the south—Arequipa, Tacna, Ilo, the entire southern coast—and later in the north, along the entire coastline. When Fujimori came to power and the economy was liberalized, my business, which was focused on exports, took a hit. My costs skyrocketed, but prices stayed the same because they weren’t tied to the internal economy. So, kaput. I didn’t know what to do. I was between a rock and a hard place. I had young daughters who needed to go to school, and I had a life to maintain. That’s when I decided to open a restaurant. And that’s how La Gloria came to be. One day, the name just came to me, and I went with it.
Does the name have anything to do with that photo?
We found that photo later with Fernando La Rosa. Even now, there’s a little stand on the beach, before Totoritas, at León Dormido, with “La Gloria” painted on a wall. I thought, “La Gloria,” like “being in glory.” But I had already decided that my restaurant would be called La Gloria.
What year did you open?
In 1994, 30 years ago. I’m celebrating 30 years.
And in this same house?
Yes, in this same house.
1994, wow. So was La Gloria your first restaurant?
Pretty much the only one, because I haven’t expanded at all. I don’t know how to run businesses. For me, this isn’t a business. Of course, I needed to make a living, but it wasn’t the vision young people have nowadays, where they aim to expand.
But how did you decide to open a restaurant?
What I wanted was to open a fonda, a tavern. I wanted something like Cordano. That was the idea. I was heading in that direction until I realized I didn’t have a clue about managing a restaurant kitchen. Luckily, life stepped in, and I met this guy—a chef who had just come back from Barcelona. His name is Gonzalo Angosto. Do you know him?
No.
An amazing chef. He had just returned from working at top restaurants in Barcelona with modern cuisine. I was clueless about managing a kitchen, and we crossed paths. He was raising ducks, and one day he asked me, “Do you want to open a restaurant?” I said yes, and that’s how I learned to run a kitchen. If I had done it alone, I don’t know what would have happened. We went in the direction of modern fine dining, and that’s how La Gloria started.
And in 1994, there wasn’t anything like it…
Gastón opened the same year, a couple of months before I did. But his concept wasn’t modern cuisine at all; it was French food. And later, well, everything started evolving.
What happened to Gonzalo?
Gonzalo stayed for about a year and a half.
Is Gonzalo still in Peru?Yes, he still lives in Peru, but he’s no longer in the kitchen. I think he has a hotel or a house in Miraflores and another in Máncora. He’s quite adventurous.
Looking back to your early days with the restaurant, what are some of your most cherished memories?When I worked with all my daughters, my wife, everyone was here. Friends would come over, and the restaurant would fill up. I remember one time when one of my daughters was carrying a plate of lentils with fish, and the lentils spilled onto a friend’s jacket. To this day, whenever I see him, he says, “Do you remember when you spilled the lentils on me?” It’s things like that that stay with you.
And then there was my famous bartender, José Bautista—a wonderful character who made a big impact. He’s been here since day one, 30 years ago. At first, my bar wasn’t where it is now; it was inside the restaurant. José was an amazing bartender, and when I transformed the patio into a bar, I put José there. Now he had a proper space to work his magic, and he was sensational. People still ask me, “What happened to José?”
What happened to José?
José is doing well. He doesn’t drink or make drinks for anyone anymore.
Did he find God?
Yes, as we say here in Peru, "está en la religión."
La Gloria is a classic. It’s the antithesis of trendy and fashionable. How have you managed to maintain consistency and integrity over the decades?
Honestly, I don’t know. In the beginning, I had some very talented chefs here who created a trend that lasted at La Gloria for 20 years. Now, I don’t have any chefs in the kitchen; it’s just me running things. Over the past 10 years, I’ve learned, managed, and figured out what it’s all about. Now I add my personal touch, which is far from orthodox.
My cooks don’t come from culinary schools or anything like that. They all start by washing dishes. When a new guy arrives, he begins by helping the person next to him, and that’s how they learn. That’s how all my cooks have been trained. I have two guys right now who cook like gods.
Peruvians also have a unique palate—they’re born with it. From a young age, they eat traditional dishes with history, so it’s in their blood. When they taste a dish, I ask them, “What do you think? Do you like it?” If they say, “Yes, but I think it’s missing something,” I tell them, “Go ahead, add it.”
The same goes for the waitstaff. None of them were formally trained to be waiters, but they do what I do. That’s why I can’t replicate this on a larger scale. Imagine trying to standardize everything. These days, the restaurant and hospitality industry has to be more professional, and while I try not to conform to that, sometimes I have to.
What advice would you give 20-year-old Óscar?To do exactly what I did. And even then, I didn’t really do it all myself. No one does—that’s not how it works. You don’t design your life. Sure, you might enroll in university or get married, but you’re not really in control. Life is a consequence of what you carry inside you, and that expresses itself and takes shape over time. It’s never something planned; the present moment creates the next one. It’s not like I built myself. So my advice would be: don’t worry; everything will come together on its own.
How does running a restaurant in 2025 compare to 1994, 30 years ago, in terms of ingredient quality?The variety of products has improved immensely, although traditional ingredients have always been around and remain unchanged. Vegetables and produce, especially from Pachacámac, are incredible. Right now, for example, I’m buying some amazing tomatoes from Trujillo. There are people dedicated to this, just like in the rest of the world—in the U.S. and Europe—where restaurants imitate old traditions of French and Italian eateries with gardens behind the house. That’s one of the most wonderful things, having your own garden.
What about Pachacámac?
In Pachacámac, I have my garden, as well as animals: lambs, guinea pigs, and eggs.
And do you serve that here?
Yes, absolutely.
How long have you had Pachacámac?
Fifteen years.
So, 15 years ago, La Gloria was one of the first farm-to-table restaurants.I’ve never advertised it that way, but it’s true.
Did Rafael Osterling also pass through here?Yes, he was the second chef after Gonzalo Angosto.
What’s your favorite Peruvian dish?
I’m not going to say ceviche (laughs). I love stews, whether they’re made with fish or meat. For example, one dish I always talk about with a lot of affection and that I absolutely love is picante a la tacneña. Do you know it? It has organ meats, lamb trotters, pork trotters, tripe—it’s a hearty dish, but it’s incredible. That’s a dish I love.
But that’s only eaten in the south, right? Do you find it in Lima as well?Not in Lima. The other day, a friend of mine who owns a restaurant in La Punta called Razzetto—they serve Italian food because her husband is Italian, but he’s from Tacna—decided to make Tacna-style food because her grandmother was from there. I lent her a book and said, “When you return it, send me a tupper of picante a la tacneña.” I love dishes like that, with tripe. We used to have a delicious tripe dish here. Now we have callos a la madrileña, which are excellent, but tripe is a classic worldwide. In France, in England…
What’s your stance on using Ajinomoto (MSG)?Look, we don’t use it. I’ve even banned it for staff meals because the guys used to use it a lot at first. It’s very common in Peru because it adds a lot of flavor. I’m not one of those who criticize Ajinomoto saying it causes cancer; first of all, I don’t think it does. As far as I know, it’s made from beef or lamb bones. The Japanese have this whole umami concept, and they use not just Ajinomoto but many other things. For example, they dry tuna, grate it like Parmesan cheese, and sprinkle it over soup. That’s also umami.
Ajinomoto, originally, was a Japanese umami, but over time it’s been turned into a massive, globalized industrial product. That’s the issue: in that process, it probably lost what it was meant to be. I think it started as something more artisanal and Japanese, but now, who knows what they add to it. That’s the problem.
Do you have a favorite “hole in the wall” restaurant?
I’ve had my favorite spots over the years, but not so much anymore because I don’t go out as often. There are so many places—just in Surquillo, there are 300. I used to love this place called Mi Perú in Barranco. It had the best ceviche I’ve ever had, until the father of the two boys who run it passed away. I used to go for a beer with the owner, and the ceviche had an incredible flavor. I’ve never tasted anything like it since. They also made crab soup and scallop tortillas served over rice. That combination was spectacular.The first time we won the Summum award, in 2008 or 2009, we celebrated there. We stayed here first, and the next day we went to Mi Perú.
What’s your favorite place in Peru?
To eat?
No, to visit. A place you love, your happy place...
Paracas. The desert, the peninsula, the silence in Paracas.
The silence?
Yes, that’s the word—silence.
And the wind, the sand, the solitude of the afternoons in Paracas. I’m not talking about the hotels or the bay, but the reserve.
What makes you feel optimistic?
What makes me feel optimistic? Politically, spiritually, or personally? Where do you want me to start?
Let’s start with politically.
Politically, I think it was fortunate that Castillo was elected for two years. I believe Peruvians are now less likely to risk their vote so easily. Of course, anything can happen, but I think that experience taught a lesson.
And spiritually?
Spiritually… in reality, spirituality doesn’t exist as something separate. I don’t believe in being a “believer,” because we’re not separate from anything. I’m part of everything, and everything is part of me. There’s no real boundary between us and the rest. Where’s the wall that separates my skin from everything else? It’s an illusion. Everything is energy. So, I don’t believe in God as something external. We are.
We are.
Absolutely. And Peru is a country with monumental wisdom. Its people are wise, preserving their traditions, like in gastronomy, which is an inheritance of a millenary empire. It’s like China or India—ancient civilizations that preserve something profound. For example, in Egypt, even though it was a great civilization, there’s nothing comparable to what we have here in terms of culinary traditions.
That’s true. There’s nothing like our pachamanca.
Exactly.
Or how the Incas included guinea pig in The Last Supper when the Spanish arrived.
Right, the guinea pig is in the Last Supper painting in Cusco Cathedral, replacing the Lamb of God.
What about that painting over there? I love it. Who’s it by?
It’s by Alberto Grieve Crousillat, a soul brother of mine. At one point, he started creating these pieces by dropping a bit of paint on the canvas and then moving it around to create shapes.
That one over there is beautiful too.
Those two are by Manongo Mujica.
Your neighbor, practically.
A very close friend. I attended his concert in Cusco. He did a concert at the pyramids of Túcume—it was amazing—and then repeated it here at Mateo Salado. It’s a ruin near Chacra Colorada, by the Catholic University. It was a wonderful event. And those works are by Emilio Larraín, my brother Salvador, and Wendy Weeks.
What a great collection to have on your walls. It’s been such a pleasure talking with you. Thank you, Óscar.
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