By Paul Reidinger

ON A BREATHLESS evening recently, at the latest iteration of Fresca, it struck me why I'd liked the previous occupant, Tien Fu, so much: It was never crowded. Oh, the Chinese food was good, the service fine, the atmospherics winning, if a little dim – but it was the fact you could walk in at practically any hour of the day or night, even at the height of the boom, and be seated immediately that made the place a treasure. In a city overrun by galloping herds of trendoid cattle, this was a huge luxury some of us, perhaps, took for granted. (I was among them, alas.) It was an oasis too good to last, and it didn't, and now the enormous evening crowds at Fresca, gasping like goldfish in a cloudy bowl, testify nonetheless to the persistence of pent-up demand for upmarket dining in Noe Valley's village center, which lately is seeming like the urban answer to Woodside's.

Fresca has become, in the past nine years, arguably the city's premiere name in Peruvian food. When the first restaurant opened, in West Portal in 1996, modesty was the watchword: You ordered at the counter, and you ordered mainly the house specialty, roast chicken Peruvian-style, or from a selection of burritos. I liked that Fresca well enough but wasn't overawed, though I did notice, when I returned five years later, that the place had introduced full table service and a considerably more elegant and elaborate – and expensive – menu: signs of a strong public response.

With the opening of the Noe Valley restaurant, Fresca is now going mano a mano with Limon, whose beginnings were similarly modest (including Peruvian roast chicken) but whose recent expansion includes stylish new digs in the old Tannour space. It is now possible to argue, on the basis of this sustained bloom, that Peruvian food, which long lingered at the edges of public attention (Fina Estampa, anyone?), has been recognized at last as one of the world's great cuisines.

The new Fresca makes a heroic effort to capture the full range of all this gastronomic glory. Chef-owner José Calvo-Perez's menu offers at least nine versions of ceviche (ranging in price from $10 to $13), along with plates of tiradito ("Peruvian-style sashimi"). These include a pair of the usual suspects – tombo tuna and yellowtail – along with a carpaccio-like presentation of Kobe beef ($13), sliced thin and served with chanterelle mushrooms, ginger chimichurri, horseradish aioli, and soy-caramel emulsion, a complex aggregation of sweet and pungent effects that nearly overwhelms the subtle fineness of the meat.

One of the perils of ascent for Peruvian chefs scaling Mount Upscale, in fact, is an embarrassment of riches: With Peru's distinctive array of peppers, spices, and fruits, along with pronounced Asian influences and an abundance of seafood, it is hard to resist the temptation to work it all in somehow, and the result is a constant flirtation with crowdedness, of trying to fit one last spectacular ingredient onto a plate that really just needs to be sent on its way. Luckily there are dishes that are not passed through the overembellishment jabberwocky, among them an addictive aji de gallina ($15), a stew of shredded chicken in a cream sauce of aji amarillo (a Peruvian chile of moderate heat and citrus overtones). "It's like Peruvian chicken à la king!" one of my tablemates marvelled – making the comparison in the most loving, Dame Edna way.

A theme related to complexity here is verticality: We noticed a quite literal tendency toward mountainousness, from adobo de chancho ($15.50) – boneless pieces of braised pork looming over foothills of rice, yams, and Canario beans, with a substratum of chile sofrito and salsa criolla – to the show-stopping cordero "mar y tierra" ("surf and turf," $24), herb-roasted rack-of-lamb slices with spectacular protrusions of roasted prawns that looked as if they had arrived by cannonade. Even the lunchtime bocadillos are assembled on great puffs of fresh bread; choices here include slightly sweet, slightly tough pulled pork ($8) with mango mustard and Gouda, and immaculately tender beef strips ($8.50) sautéed with red onion and tomato and, on the tongue, beautifully balanced among acid, salty, and savory.

And as for that most fabled of Peruvian staples, the potato? It turns up all over, of course: grilled, fried, and mashed as an accompaniment to more marquee-ish items (the fries were disappointing), and, occasionally, in more fulfilling presentations, such the causa maki ($10), a trio of yellowish mashed-potato torpedoes topped with various crustacean salads (Dungeness and blue crab, scallop tartare, fried langoustines), chunks of avocado, and seasonings. Crustaceans are grand, of course, but potatoes are the key to this dish, and they are splendid, smooth in texture, and seasoned sturdily enough to overcome being served at room temperature.

As a crème brûlée aficionado, I had mixed feelings about the lime Catalan edition ($7) of a proven dessert. Custards do well with citrus, and this one was no exception, but serving it over a brownie, however moist, left a sense of collision rather than inspired combination. As is so often the case, the simpler choices were just as satisfying, none more so than a snifter of caramelly Spanish brandy, Carlos Premier ($9).

Tien Fu didn't offer that little luxury, so a point there for the newcomer. The makeover of the space (after a total gutting) is also breathtaking; the entrance has been moved and is now a handsomely tiled corridor, and the interior is much more brightly lighted and aglow with pale earth tones, at times visible to the naked eye amid the ever restless crowds, roving for a breath of fresh air while they wait for their tables.

Fresca. 3945 24th St. (at Noe), SF. (415) 695-0549. Lunch: Daily, 11 a.m.-3 p.m.; dinner: Mon.-Thurs., 5-10:30 p.m., Fri.-Sat., 5-11 p.m., Sun., 5-10 p.m. Full bar. American Express, Discover, MasterCard, Visa. Noisy if crowded. Wheelchair accessible.