A Meat Story

(Part 3 of 5 in a series on Buenos Aires)

"Stillleben - Unmässigkeit"‎ (Still Life - Excess) by Albert Anker

My lovelies,

I was afraid you might say that all I do here is eat - well, tonight I ended up doing something a little different.  I must admit though that even this adventure started out as a search of a place to dine.  I consulted the city (gay) guide  and one restaurant kept popping up:  Restobar Inside.  I went, of course, and if you ever go to Buenos Aires I recommend that you do, too.

The food is just horrible.  Hands down the worst I had in Buenos Aires.  I went there on my second day in the city, see, and on the first day all I had was beef, so I thought I'd give fish a try this time.   How was I supposed to know how precious fresh fish is in BA?  There was just one fish in the menu so I asked for it.  A glass of wine and a basket of stale bread later, a plate came with white fillet, stuffed with vegies and herbs and spices.  I was impressed at how they managed to slice something so delicate and stuff it full without it falling apart.  Cutting a small piece with the knife felt strange as it was tougher than any other fish I've had, and when I put the piece in my mouth,  it all made sense.  It was the fish that never in its life swam in any body of water.  It was chicken.  A really, really bad chicken.  It tasted like something that a food enthusiast who's still learning his way in the kitchen would come up with, putting together ingredients he doesn't fully understand yet.  My handsome hunk of a waiter came running soon to retrieve my plate and apologized for having given me the wrong food.  He was such a hottie and my smile to him so big I don't think he had any idea of how bad I thought of the food.

After a few minutes he brought me the right dish.  Only there really wasn't anything right about this one, either.  The mixed vegetable side was a mushy mess of over-microwaved frozen mixture of corn, peas, beans and carrots that you can get in any discount store.  The fish, I suspect, was just as deep-frozen as the vegies it came with before it was baked wrapped in aluminum foil bag with some herbs and slices of eggplant - the only part of the meal that I was able to ingest.  Partly to finish my second glass of wine and partly to have an excuse to stare at my beautiful waiter, I lingered.  And boy was I glad I did - not too long after I gave up on my food, they served the meat!

"Geschlachteter Ochse" by Rembrandt Harmensz. van Rijn

Accompanied by boy-band music, mood lights, and among the restaurant's patrons a sense of anticipation  so thick and palpable, the meat came served in the form of a tall, muscular, long-haired blond equipped with that most sought-after quality in a male stripper:  the naughtiest smile.

To say that he had dance moves would be an insult to the discipline, but he knew how to work the floor.  He went to each table, encouraged patrons to touch him - and everybody did.  From the expression on his face you could tell that he was enjoying his job so much - well, either that or he's a great actor.  At the end of his routine, he was at the table next to mine.  He took off whatever's left of the pretense for underwear he's got on, walked behind me, and slapped his huge, throbbing man-meat on my shoulder.  It was the friendliest tap on the shoulder that I shall never forget.   Normally I'd complain of sanitary problems that a huge penis repeatedly mauled my shoulder when there's food on the table, but at the time I really couldn't care less.

EL ATENEO  Photo: Herbert Brant

In penance and partly to redeem myself from all the earthly thoughts racing through my loins, I decided to visit a renowned bookstore in the opposite side of town. It was a run-down theatre that was restored to its original glory and converted into the "El Ateneo" bookstore, and what a sight. I bought a book by one of the most prominent Argentinian writers, Ernesto Sabato, titled "El Tunel" in Spanish.

Having appeased the intellectual gods, I vowed to return to Restobar Inside the next day.


For now,

XXX
L.G.D.


Links:
Restobar Inside
El Ateneo