Leo season | Chef Leonor Espinosa roars in Bogotá

At Latin America’s 50 Best Restaurant Awards, Maido in Lima, Peru, scooped the number one spot. Leonor Espinosa from Bogotá was awarded “Latin America’s Best Female Chef”, and her restaurant Leo voted number eighteen. Three restaurants in Colombia made the list, tres from cincuenta. It’s not an overwhelming success, but it’s progress. The previous two ceremonies took place in Mexico City and Lima, so this was Colombia’s time, their moment. Three means people are visiting and starting a discussion, feeding into the economy; three is good, three is more than they hoped for, and three is better than ninguno.

There’s nothing sexy about crocs or snails, but I can think of quite a lot to do with a papaya

I visited Leo the day before the ceremony for a long and voracious lunch, during which I was served such exotic ingredients as bijao (a banana-like plant), capybara (a large wild rodent) and copoazú (a tropical Amazonian fruit, like cocoa, and nicknamed the “white chocolate”). There’s an aphrodisiac drink called arrechón, made with Viche, condensed milk, cloves and cinnamon and served in the hope, I suspect, of increasing my libido and ensuring a sexy lunch was had, which it was – I had to go back to my hotel room afterwards for a w*nk.

Since its opening in 2006, Leonor has significantly influenced her national cuisine, and her influence does not go unnoticed, supported by her recent honour at the 50 Best ceremony. She continues championing her homeland, researching, sourcing and showcasing little-known Colombian ingredients while offering arrechón and increasing guests’ arousal – no wonder local appraisal is so feverish. She calls her menu “Ciclo-Bioma”, referring to the interplay of underused and underappreciated elements sourced from the corners of the country’s mega-diverse ecosystem, so expect duck and crab and crocodile and pirarucu, maracuyá, papaya and copeu snails – weird and wonderful things and more than a few unusual ingredients. There’s nothing sexy about crocs or snails, but I can think of quite a lot to do with a papaya.

Leonor Espinosa of Leo, Bogotá

After the success of Leo, Leonor opened Misia in Bogotá’s Chapinero neighbourhood. The aim was to shine a light on Colombia’s Caribbean coast, offering a more affordable restaurant than the upscale Leo, now the eighteenth-best restaurant in Latin America and the second-best in Colombia, one behind Harry Sasson. We met at Misia for breakfast the morning after the awards, sleep-deprived and bleary-eyed, for deep-fried plantains, freshly baked pan de bona and heavy doses of that famous black Colombian coffee. Plates of arepas rellenas de queso arrived with hot molten cheese bubbling within, helping to absorb the booze. And I smashed through fourteen mugs of tinto.

We were joined by Leonor’s daughter, Laura Hernández-Espinosa, who I had met at lunch a few days previously. Maybe it was the after-effects of the pervasive arrechón, but she was ravishing at service. Dressed more casually than she does during restaurant hours, Laura leant across the breakfast table, reaching for a coffee pot. The sleeve of her t-shirt rose, and I noticed a love heart tattoo on her right bicep, and another of a corkscrew on her wrist and a wine glass on her finger. There’s also the suggestion of something bigger on her shoulder, just visible under the rise of her shirtsleeve, but I can’t tell what.

Leo, Bogotá

Laura is responsible for the wines at Leo, which include guava and coca wines, along with juices and a lively cocktail menu – many liquors fermented or distilled in-house. She told me she wishes to further the country’s social development using her mother’s foundation, FUNLEO, which visits Colombia’s indigenous communities. “Travelling to different parts of the country made me realise how much gastronomic culture depends on territory and population,” she tells me as more coffee arrives. “I realised there was a common denominator, from La Guajira to Arauca – it’s aguapanela.” She gave me an intense stare, expecting me to engage and further the aguapanela discourse, which I misread as a hint of a flirtatious undertone. “Yeah,” I agreed nervously, having no idea what aguapanela could be. I smiled and nodded, the way awkward British people do. Aguapanela is, of course, the wildly popular sugar cane drink made from panela. Thank goodness that’s clear, but what’s panela?

Back at Leo, lunch continued with elaborate and explosive courses, merging regional produce with new and complex flavours. Each plate was struck by tonal colour and ingredients I could not place. Duck with corn flatbread and white fish with páramo leaves and copoazú, course after course a study and a celebration of origins. When the capybara arrived in a dark broth, the spicing and balance and overall complexity of the broth outshone the protein, which often steals the show. “There are endless possibilities here,” Leo tells me, grinning. “We have the oceans and the rainforests and huge local markets. Colombia’s culinary potential is only just being realised.”

It makes me wonder, along with arrechón, could Leo be Colombia’s sexiest restaurant?

Then, the ants arrive. Delicious big-bottomed ants called “hormigas culonas” from the Santander region in the central north of Colombia. They’re crushed to make a crunchy, nutty coating, which those seated around me shove into their mouths with a greedy glee, noshing into a sort of digestible mouth putty. Better than I had expected; they’re little, acidic-bursting bombs that pop and crunch and fill my cheeks. I’ve munched on ants before. René Redzepi and Alex Atala have been advancing their nutritional benefits for years, even recognising them as a cancer preventative, according to Henry and Kamila Markram’s journal Frontiers in Nutrition. Still, these were my first Colombian ants and providence matters.

The Santander queen ants are considered a delicacy, and 1kg can fetch as much as 300,000 pesos, about £60.00. Around April each year, “La Salida” marks one of the country’s most anticipated days, when the ant’s annual mating season sees locals scramble to collect as many bloated queen ants as they can. Prized for their swollen arses – which can taste like sesame or limes or even maple bacon when roasted or fried – I’m told that they are also considered to be an aphrodisiac due to the circumstances in which they are caught. It makes me wonder, along with arrechón, could Leo be Colombia’s sexiest restaurant?

Food and sex lead a binary coexistence, two of life’s great pleasures, but rarely served well together – those papaya comments were thoughts only, and never followed through on. A scattering of horny products across the menu here is a good thing. Some plumpy Santander ants and an arrechón chaser are, in fact, a terrifically passable pairing. Add native nuts, copeu snails and avocado, as well as the cheerful, cyclic duty of Laura and her ink, and I guarantee you’ll be humping the table leg before dessert. C

Leo, Pasaje Santa Cruz de Mompox, Calle 27b, No 6-75, Bogotá, Colombia
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