Peruvian food. It’s like a Michael Kors handbag, you see it everywhere nowadays, it’s all the fashion. Unlike a Michael Kors handbag, however, Pachamama is no clone and stands out from its Peruvian peers such as Coya, Andina and Ceviche.

Mr.N wanted to book somewhere a bit different, he wanted to be adventurous. And we all thought accountants were boring. Psshhht, not mine. As you enter you are shimmied to the basement. There is a rustic wooden bar on the left, we were taken to the naughty corner at the back. It was 6pm on a Saturday night and we were the only people there which would ordinarily worry me but for some reason it didn’t on this day. The décor is simple, I was to soon discover that the food more than compensated for lack of frills.

For drinks I ordered Mama’s Pisco. Turns out that I had momentarily forgotten that pisco, the national spirit of Peru, is kryptonite to my taste buds. Strong, very strong. Mr N ordered a carafe of Malbec.

We started with the sweet chargrilled padron peppers which were perfectly balanced with specks of sea salt. The beef short rib croquettas were melt in the mouth delicious. I could have easily ordered more of the smoked cheddar tequeños (cheese sticks just doesn’t have the same sexy ring to it).

We devoured the yellowfin tuna. The superstar for me was the stunning looking seabass ceviche made with tiger’s milk, radish and salty samphire. Ceviche is a popular traditional South American dish. The tiger’s milk in which the chunks of raw fish is cured is often a mixture of lime, salt and chilli. This citrus fusion not only adds zest but it breaks down the proteins in the fish so we can all eat it without keeling over. Clever stuff, hey.

The couple next to us ordered the duck on rice, it looked tempting. I am not sure if they were on their first date; I recall the guy bragging of his fluency in about 50 different languages and using his part Peruvian heritage to impress his lady friend by giving her a guided tour of the suitably cryptic menu. She seemed bemused. Either she was unimpressed or she was a bit thick. I guess we’ll never know.

To satisfy my sweetooth we ordered the fig alfajores (fig cookie sandwich) and the Peruvian chilli & cacao truffles. If no one was looking, I would have licked the plate clean. Order it.

The restaurant was swarming by 7.00pm with diners arriving with their cocktails and bam, that was the moment. This glamorous, tanned skin, modelesque woman walked in. She was with a male and a female friend. She wore a white shirt and a chic floral skirt showing off her perfect pins. You know when someone is so drop dead gorgeous that you literally find yourself staring at them without even realising- think that moment in Friends where Phoebe is bedazzled by Ross and Monica’s cousin played by Denise Richards as she tosses her long blonde tresses back and forth in slow mo. You get the idea. This woman was Freida Pinto. How did I not initially recognise her? Well, in my defence she had cut her hair so it wasn’t immediately obvious until I did my due diligence in the form of a trusted Google search: ‘Freida Pinto hair 2015’. Confirmed. Mr.N was gutted because whereas she was directly in my eyeline, his back was turned to her. Shame.

We had finished our meal. “Maybe we should order more food while I summon up the courage to go ask for a selfie” I earnestly told Mr.N. It was at this precise moment that Mr.N quickly requested the bill. The bill came to £100. For the top quality ingredients, the charming service and vibrantly beautiful food, we thought this was worth it for London.

We’ll definitely be back, if not just for the food, perhaps for the chance of seeing Bradley Cooper. One can always wish.

Food: 8.5/10  Atmosphere:9/10  Value: 9/10

If this restaurant were a fictional character it would be…. Jessica Rabbit- sexy, full of life and one to keep an eye on.