At Inti, starters such as a turret of fried yuca stuffed with ground beef, chopped egg, and olives, bring abundant pleasures. Photograph by Stacy Zarin-Goldberg.

Sitting snugly at a window table in Inti, you might spy a gaggle of twentysomethings heading up 18th Street to join the line outside Lauriol Plaza, the Tex-Mex ’rita-and-’jita place that serves the postfrat crowd. But sipping a freshly frothed pisco sour and enjoying the free spiced puffs of Andean corn, you might be forgiven for feeling a little superior as you watch the passersby.

Opening practically next door to one of DC’s most dubiously popular Latin restaurants was a bold move on the part of Inti’s owners. But the seven-month-old dining room, which shimmers even at night thanks to its bright-yellow walls and a cheesily upbeat soundtrack of pop covers on pan flute, has found its own steady following.

To find out why, start with one of the ceviches. The wide bowls—enough for three or four to share—come heaped with cilantro-and-citrus-zinged shrimp or cubes of flounder; these simpler ceviches are better than the mixed-seafood version, which adds rubbery octopus, squid, and scallops so tough you’ll find your fork working to avoid them. A tiradito of flounder—long strips of fish covered in a beige purée of chilies, lime juice, and garlic—isn’t the prettiest plate, but it delivers a good scalding to the tongue.

To counter the heat, the ceviches come with the traditional halved sweet potato, but other appetizers also do the trick. A papa rellena—the stuffed potato ubiquitous on Peruvian menus—is reimagined here using fried yuca, which brims with a cumin-laced sauté of ground beef, olives, raisins, and hard-boiled eggs. There are also thin slices of beef heart marinated in vinegar and grilled on skewers; a bowl of shrimp in milky garlic butter flecked with celery seed; and, on weekends, the vinegary layering of mashed-potatoes known as causa.

Main courses bring fewer certainties. The waiter might ask how you’d like your bistec a lo pobre cooked, but the question seems downright silly when a quarter-inch-thick cube steak shows up. The rest of the plate is all starch: a dry plantain, a pile of rice, and a cob of the unfortunately omnipresent choclo, the super-sized and flavorless Andean corn that garnishes nearly every plate. If that’s not filling enough, a handful of crinkle fries lies in wait under the meat. Lomo saltado, the China-influenced, soy-sauce-soaked stir-fry of beef, peppers, and French fries, is too salty-sweet to keep your interest for long.

Much better are hunks of beef stewed in a mix of fresh cilantro and crushed peas. Cilantro also perks up a chowder loaded with shrimp, potatoes, celery, and rice—a satisfying winter warmer. One of the best dishes is pollo a la brasa, a spice-crusted, charbroiled rotisserie chicken. You can get half of a meaty bird, plus sides of bacony canary beans and crisply fried yuca, for $8.95. Diners in the ’burbs, with dozens of Peruvian rotisserie shops scattered about, have been feasting on deals like this for years. Inti gives DC residents a chance to catch up.

This review appeared in the February, 2008 issue of The Washingtonian.