According to legend, Isla de la Luna in Lake Titicaca was formed when a heroic Inca warrior chopped off the head of a giant snake. To my eyes, however, the island looks more like a trout filet. The comparison seems appropriate, since trout forms such an important part of the diet and economy of the giant Andean lake that sits on the border of Peru and Bolivia. Everywhere you look, restaurants offer the fish grilled, fried, sautéed, steamed, and del diablo—loaded with hot sauce. I set out on a tasting tour to indulge in and rank the best preparations.
My introduction to Titicaca trout was at the restaurant at Hotel La Cupula in Copacabana, the lakeside town in Bolivia that lent its name to the more famous beach in Brazil. The menu offered a trout, called trucha in Spanish, sautéed in butter and served with a side of quinoa, another local staple. It was wonderful, rich and tender, swimming in juices, and ultimately the best meal I had at the lake.
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Floating trout cages around Isla de la Luna. All photos by Ada Kulesza.
Full and happy, I took a boat from Copacabana on a two-hour ride to Isla del Sol, another popular tourist destination. The boat cut across the beautiful blue waters of Lake Titicaca, which holds title to a number of superlatives, such as most voluminous lake in South America, and world’s highest navigable lake at 3,800 meters in elevation.
Eventually, I disembarked in Challapampa, a tiny town on the north side of the island. There, I stopped at a small restaurant and ordered the trucha fried up with a bit of egg. It took hours to appear and was utterly uninspired—a chunk of dried-out fish served with rice and French fries. I don’t want to disparage all fried trout, of course, so I’ll blame the chef, not the preparation.
This fried trout took two hours to prepare and tasted like cardboard.
The lousy meal couldn’t distract from the beauty of the surroundings, and I walked along an old Inca trail past evidence of other components of the local Aymara people’s diet—terraced fields of potatoes and quinoa, along with plentiful sheep, pigs, and donkeys. Llamas were surprisingly scarce.
Heading north from Challapampa, I came to some pre-Hispanic ruins, including what is believed to be a sacrificial table, a large flat stone slab supported by four rocks at the corners. It was an eerie place, especially in the gathering darkness of evening while a thunderstorm approached from the far side of the lake. Historians speculate that human beings were killed on the table, although no one knows for sure. What the slab was definitively not used for, however, was cleaning and fileting trout. That’s because the fish, native to North America, have lived in Lake Titicaca for less than 80 years.
Isla de la Luna looks like a filet of trout with the tail cut off.
In fact, it was a United States Fish and Wildlife official who was responsible for the trucha invasion. In the 1930s, M.C. James—assistant chief of fish culture—traveled to the lake and recommended stocking it with trout eggs to increase food supplies and economic opportunities for the local population. “A full generation may have passed before the results of this effort will have significance, but if the outcome is favorable [the Department of Fish Culture] will have rendered an outstanding service,” James wrote in 1941, according to Smithsonian Magazine.
The program was successful, although a similar effort at stocking whitefish failed. Several species of trout flourished, most notably rainbow trout. What happened next should be no surprise—the invaders began eating and out-competing the native species, and quickly became the dominant fish. Out of roughly 34 species of fish native to the lake, two are believed to be extinct, and the rest are considered endangered, according to a recent story in the Journal Sentinel.
Trout sautéed in butter was the best meal at Lake Titicaca.
The trout, however, quickly became a significant part of the economy, along with agriculture and the growing tourism industry. Some people use nets and lines to fish, while others farm them in floating cages just offshore of the islands. From there, they find their way into people’s frying pans and grills.
I didn’t have to look far to find more. After staying the night in Challapampa, I hiked south, around and over the steep hills that define the shape of the island. I stopped for lunch on a ridge near the south end, and sure enough the fixed lunch menu offered grilled trout. This meal was excellent, served with a lime and some token vegetables along with the obligatory rice and fries, with a perfect view of the lake and the Peruvian shore to the west.
Grilled trout, served with a view of the highest navigable lake in the world.
I soon arrived at the southern town of Yumani, where nearly every building serves as a hotel and restaurant for tourists, and almost every one touted trucha for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. After all that time at Lake Titicaca, I was kind of hankering for a chili dog; but with none to be found, I settled for more fish instead.
To complete the Titicaca trout circuit, I ordered some steamed trucha from a restaurant by Yumani’s small but busy port, served with llajwa, an addictive Bolivian salsa made with hot locoto peppers and a delicious local herb called quillquiña. The trout was decent, and the sauce even better, full of multiple waves of flavor and just short of being so spicy that it was painful.
In the final standings, my sautéed trout was the best dish, the fried trout the worst, with the grilled and steamed fish in the middle. Other tourists can make their own decisions. The trout probably shouldn’t even be there in the first place, but they’ve become an integral part of visiting Lake Titicaca, and they aren’t going anywhere now.
