Causa Is More Than Just a Pretty Potato Cake (It's Got Layers!)

August 28, 2017

We Peruvians are very finicky about how our Peruvian food arrives at the table. If a restaurant doesn’t finish its creations with their customary garnishes—a wedge of hard-boiled egg, a bed of lettuce, a disc of sweet potato, a carefully placed botija-and-only-botija olive—that business’s authenticity will surely come into question. Before long, news will spread throughout the community that the offending restaurant is “not for us.”

Peruvian diners will notice the smallest mistakes, and throwing shade is sort of a national pastime—something we call “rajar.” I had a young Peruvian chef in the US tell me once that Peruvians are his most difficult special customers. I certainly won’t deny this. (If the cook was careless in the plating, he or she could also be careless in selecting ingredients and maintaining hygiene, right?)

There is one dish that exemplifies this Peruvian culinary aesthetic: causa. It is a beloved specialty that originated in the cosmopolitan, urbane cuisine of Lima. Over the decades, it has spread throughout the country, picking up local ingredients and seasonings along the way. At its most basic, causa is a cold, savory potato layer cake. It is a summertime essential that can serve as an appetizer, entrée, snack, or hors d’oeuvre.

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Causa means “cause” in Spanish, and the dish supposedly received its name when it appeared on the streets of Lima as a fundraiser to support “the cause” of Peruvian independence from Spain in the 1800s. Others say the name comes from the Quechua word “kausay,” which means “sustenance” and was another word used for the potato, the lifeblood of pre-conquest Peruvians. Causa is also Peruvian slang for “buddy,” which reflects just how close many Peruvians feel to the dish.

This is true friendship right here. Photo by Emily Dryden

The foundation of this dish is the potato “dough.” The spuds are boiled, pressed through a ricer, and mixed with lime juice, ají amarillo paste, salt, and other seasonings. Ají amarillo, a fairly large, golden-orange chile, is the backbone of Peruvian cuisine. It features in practically every dish and is what essentially makes Peruvian cuisine what it is. In addition to imparting a vibrant yellow color to everything it touches, it provides subtle heat and a bright, fruity flavor that cannot be substituted. The chiles are nearly impossible to find fresh in the United States, but jars of ají amarillo paste are available at many South American markets, as well as online, for only a few dollars. I really urge you to invest in a jar; it will come in handy.

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“Great article and recipe. Please contribute more with Peruvian history & recipes.”

With the causa foundation in place, you can begin to think about a filling. You will need mayonnaise. Any variety or recipe will work. The objective is to have something creamy to counter the acidity and spice of the potatoes (traditionally, mayonnaise-dressed canned tuna or poached chicken). Other fillings could include crab meat, poached shrimp, sliced hearts of palm, or artichoke hearts. To this you can add diced vegetables, hard-boiled eggs, or anything else you fancy. First-time causa makers should begin with a single layer of filling between the potato dough—the simple, tried-and-true approach. Those more experienced and/or adventurous can make multiple layers, or even alternate between different fillings.

Causa is also Peruvian slang for 'buddy,' which reflects just how close many Peruvians feel to the dish.

Tradition dictates that a slice of hardboiled egg, tomato, avocado, and a Peruvian botija olive must adorn the finished causa, as well as a generous and artfully administered smear or squirt of mayonnaise. That is a good place to start for inspiration, but I encourage you to let your culinary imagination run wild.

I like to substitute the traditional mayonnaise garnish with the mild Salsa Golf. This traditional cocktail sauce has variations throughout Latin America, but legend claims that it originated with an Argentine Nobel Laureate named Luis Federico Leloir in the 1920s. While dining at a golf club in the seaside town of Mar de Plata, he reportedly asked a waiter to bring him numerous condiments and began experimenting with their combination. He finally arrived at a simple concoction of ketchup and mayonnaise that became a hit in Argentina. Salsa Golf’s popularity quickly spread throughout the lower half of South America, taking on additional seasonings over time, and has become an indispensable part of Peruvian cuisine. Every Peruvian has his or her own secret ingredients, but mine includes a splash of pisco (brandy or vodka work here, too).

The recipe below provides a pretty standard guideline for getting you started on your causa journey with a few of my own little flourishes. Once you feel comfortable with it, I give you full permission to toy around with the seasonings, the assembly, and the presentation. Change out the ají amarillo for your favorite chili, add herbs, use purple potatoes, add yuzu juice. Make individual causas, stuffed causa balls, or causa cupcakes. Spread the potato mixture on a plastic wrap–lined sushi mat, add your fillings, and roll into a pinwheel. I promise I won’t accuse you of any cultural transgression. After all, these are the types of things people are doing in Peru. Just remember that in order for it to be a causa, you need to follow these three rules:

1. The potato mixture needs to be cold, smooth, tart, spicy, and savory.

2. It needs to have a creamy filling, preferably dressed with mayonnaise.

3. It needs to look beautiful and ornate.

Dress your causa like it's going to prom. Photo by Emily Dryden

Approach this like you’d approach decorating a wedding cake: the more baroque, the better. I once brought an elaborate causa to a multicultural potluck, and the hosts actually served it along with the desserts because they thought it was a cake. If this happens to you, you have embodied the Peruvian culinary aesthetic.

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See what other Food52 readers are saying.

  • sexyLAMBCHOPx
  • MarZig
  • amysarah
  • Olga of Mango & Tomato
    Olga of Mango & Tomato
  • Carlos C. Olaechea
    Carlos C. Olaechea
I was born in Peru to a Limeño father and a Texan mother. We moved to Miami when I was five, and I grew up in the "Kendall-suyo" neighborhood—often called the 5th province of the Inca Empire because of its large Peruvian population. I've been writing about food since I was 11 years old, and in 2016 I received a master's degree in Gastronomy from Boston University. A travel columnist at Food52, I'm currently based in Hollywood, Florida—another vibrant Peruvian community—where I am a writer, culinary tour guide, and consultant.


sexyLAMBCHOPx August 29, 2017
Great article and recipe. Please contribute more with Peruvian history & recipes.
Carlos C. August 29, 2017
Thank you! I intend to do just that.
MarZig August 28, 2017
Oh I got to try this. Looks Awesome!!!!!
Carlos C. August 28, 2017
Please do! and it keeps well in the fridge for several days
amysarah August 28, 2017
So glad to see this - lately I've been fixated on this sauce: http://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2010/03/aji-amarillo-green-peruvian-sauce-recipe.html (experimenting with how much jalapeno, subbing Greek yogurt for part of the mayo, etc.) We're eating it with roast chicken, shrimp, grilled salmon, potatoes, tacos, tomatoes, boiled eggs, almost everything - no exaggeration. I've been wondering what else I can make with my jar of Aji Amarillo paste... now I know!
Carlos C. August 28, 2017
The recipe looks really tasty, but the jalapenos in the sauce are not really Peruvian as there are no jalapenos in Peru and they are never used in Peruvian cuisine. I get a lot of questions about the green Peruvian sauce, and honestly it is just a hot sauce (in Peru, we call it a cream) that each cook makes differently. Sometimes it isn't even green but yellow with flecks of green (that's how I make it). Traditionally, these sauces are just emulsions made with cooked down onions and garlic, aji, and a lot of oil with maybe an egg yolk for extra creaminess. Other key ingredients may include peanuts, mustard, or huacatay (an herb related to marigold but commonly called "black mint"). As for your jar of aji amarillo paste, you can use it for pretty any Peruvian dish, particularly from the coast.
Carlos C. August 28, 2017
*pretty much any Peruvian dish.
Carlos C. August 28, 2017
You should definitely try huancaina sauce. It combines the aji amarillo with cheese and milk to make this really rich sauce. You'll love it!
amysarah August 28, 2017
Interesting about jalapenos - didn't know they weren't part of Peruvian cooking. I've actually been using less of them than the recipe indicates as the sauce I first tasted wasn't that spicy, also a very pale green. (A basic emulsion makes sense - I guess mayo is just a short cut for that.) Will check out huancaina sauce too - sounds great. Thanks for the info!
Carlos C. August 28, 2017
My pleasure! I hope you get to try that sauce, and the causa.
Olga O. August 28, 2017
Potatoes and mayo? Sign me up!
This reminds me of the Russian potato salad aka oliv'ie aka Ensalada Russa http://www.mangotomato.com/2011/01/russian-potato-salad.html
Carlos C. August 28, 2017
Yes. Similar spirit. You can look at a causa like a rococo, reconstructed ensalada rusa with a kick of chili and lime
Olga O. August 28, 2017
I like that!