Doing the Locals

(Part 2 of 5 in a series on Buenos Aires)


My lovelies,

In my previous correspondence I mentioned San Telmo, the oldest barrio (neighborhood) in Buenos Aires and home to Feria San Telmo, the very popular flea market held every Sunday in Calle Defensa. Feria San Telmo is not too different from Notting Hill's Portobello Market, the wares probably in similar degrees of authenticity. Even without the flea market on weekdays, San Telmo boasts of a big antiques market and several curiousity shops along the same street.

SAN TELMO  © Joselito Briones

In the same neighborhood are numerous old café's and restaurants - some of them officially recognized by the city as a café of note and historical significance (as is Café Tortoni).  I visited two - La Poesia and Café Coruña.

LA POESIA  © Joselito Briones

LA POESIA  © Joselito Briones

The first one, La Poesia, is the epitome of a Porteño café - the sort that you'll see in a movie if there's ever a scene in a café in Buenos Aires.  It's got the old world feel down to a tittle. Exposed bricks, worn out solid wood furniture, retro images on the wall, ham and sausages hanging over the bar - the works.  It has a mezzanine at the back where you can drink your coffee while watching people.  I could imagine a romantic scene in a film played out in one of the tables by the window, or perhaps a scene where a man drinks quietly in the darker part of the cafe, observing his ability to observe others, asking questions pertaining to his very existence.

LA CORUÑA  © Joselito Briones

The other café, La Coruña, turned out to be a working man's hang out.  There were men in workclothes having late lunch, each one occupying an entire table to himself, but all facing the same wall where a small TV unabatedly displayed football match results. I wouldn't be surprised if generations upon generations of local families grew up having beer and simple food here while watching football on TV.

When I came to visit, the table by the entrance was occupied by a man who looked like he's had a week's worth of alcohol during lunch - long wavy blond hair, in a summer suit and a thin scarf where his collar and tie was meant to be, nursing a drink and occasionally playing the harmonica and singing a blues song loud enough for everyone to hear.  It wasn't difficult to see that he's also not from here, although enough of a regular that the lady shopkeeper was sharing his table.  Intrigued by his attempts to attract attention, I approached and asked him what I now realize to be the most tactless question I could've come up with:  "Excuse me, are you supposed to be famous?" He graciously said no - I was thankful that he was a happy drunk - and in further conversation I learned that indeed he's a foreigner, looking for a teaching job in Buenos Aires.

The shopkeeper was very patient in helping me choose from what seems to be a fixed menu (written on a board high up on a wall), given her limited English and my bastardized Spanish. In the end, I settled for Porteno classics - churrasco (steak) with grilled peppers, lentils, a glass of Malbec, and flan de leche with a good dollop of dulce de leche. This pretty much sums up the must-haves in Buenos Aires, so I was curious to know how they're supposed to be in their most basic form, and I was not disappointed. If you are easily put off by plastic bread baskets or beer-branded retro plastic napkin holders, this place is not for you.  If you are however adventurous enough to overlook the lack of fineries, you will be rewarded with good food.

I really wish you were all here with me - Ms. Vita oggling the hot waiters, Ms. Patty posing for pictures beside marble busts of Venuses, and Ms. Hollie loving and hating his "plebs" in equal measure, but alas, all I can do is imagine what fun it would've been.


For now,

XXX
L.G.D.

Amongst the Ghosts of Fabulous People

(Part 1 of 5 in a series on Buenos Aires)

CAFE TORTONI © Joselito Briones

My lovelies,

I am writing this sitting in a corner table in Café Tortoni, Buenos Aires’ revered meeting place for prominent writers, artists, and politicos of years gone by. It is worth noting that the table I am in is dedicated to painter and poet Emilia Bertole whose self-portrait hangs on the wall beside me. What perfect corner to watch and sketch people. I can imagine what it must have been like - observing celebrities being obsessed over, intellectuals in heated arguments, poets smoking the night away. Today I see dignified-looking older Porteños (how locals call themselves), suits veering over serious-looking folios, locals in animated discussion over wine, and tourists, lots of tourists, who want to partake of the history that is still very much felt in the room, if only through the hanging portraits on the wall. I was seated here by the older gentleman in charge at the door, so well-mannered and agreeable that I wanted to give him a hug and tell him my Christmas wish this year.

CAFE TORTONI © Joselito Briones

As I'm writing this, I'm nibbling on some Roquefort and freshly baked rolls, washed down by a glass of their white 'reserva' - don't ask me what it is exactly, I just know that it's good and that I chose it only because it's proudly highlighted in their not-so-old-looking menu. The suggested (internet source) choice in this fine establishment is house ice cream drowned in dulce de leche (their classic thick custard-like reduction of milk and sugar), but as I have been grabbing every opportunity to dine in the city, I decided I will at least refrain from sweets (except for that one time when I did try dulce de leche in one restaurant - I had to). I figured I can't go wrong with classic cheese and wine. (Not to speak ill of Cafe Tortoni, I'm sure everything in their menu is up to par with the establishment's prestige).

You see, in my few days here in Buenos Aires I've learned not to be too adventurous with the choices in the menu. As a general rule, I try to learn beforehand what the restaurant is known for, or I ask the waiter. I have had really bad food in a restaurant (more on this later) , and although I am still hopeful that the meals in the remainder of my stay here will amaze me, I have not had a single meal that I truly, genuinely loved since I arrived. Don't get me wrong, they're not all that bad. There are local parillas everywhere that are passable to very good, and very reasonably priced. They serve the simplest meat dishes, allowing an unadulterated taste of the local beef Argentina is known for. It's just not like, say Spain or Italy, where good food is the rule instead of the exception. I even tried a couple of restaurants recommended by the New York Times, still no love.

One in particular is Brasserie Petanque, a French restaurant in San Telmo, the oldest neighborhood in the city. I went there for a late lunch and the place was empty save a few window tables. The staff were no-nonsense and could've been a wee bit friendlier, but they were efficient and my table didn't want for anything necessary for pleasant dining.

BRASSERIE PETANQUE © Joselito Briones

The food in Brasserie Petanque is indeed good. I was served generous portions of very tender lean pork in a dark and thick balsamic sauce that was great and went particularly well with a glass of Malbec, the most popular local wine. I was very disappointed though that at the bottom of the accompanying squash purée I found embedded a good-sized portion of a plastic wrapper. The only conclusion I could get to was that the purée was pre-frozen in a plastic bag and some plastic wrapper got caught between the folds when they removed it prior to thawing. It was a let down, considering they took enough time to give the illusion that they were preparing food in the kitchen as you order them, and I assumed that whatever took long to cook were at least prepared that day and didn't need freezing.

Anyway, there's still plenty to write about but I think I shall stop now to have my coffee and observe some more. I just wanted to grant Café Tortoni the claim that this here is the table where yours truly wrote a letter to his lovely friends.


For now,

XXX
L.G.D.

Restaurante Lasarte Shines in Barcelona

My dear fab friends,

Allow me to introduce to you Restaurante Lasarte and chef Martin Berasategui, certainly the highlight of my recent trip to Barcelona.

Martin Berasategui is a Basque chef who can boast of five Michelin stars: three for his self-named restaurant in Guipúzcoa, Spain since 2001; and two for Restaurante Lasarte in Barcelona, opened in 2006, which only took four years to earn its second star (incidentally, the highest Michelin-rated restaurant within the city).

So you can imagine my excitement, along with the high expectations, when I entered the restaurant inside the Hotel Condes, just across Gaudi's Casa Mila in the fashionable Passeig de Gracia street. The decor is elegantly modern with predominantly muted tones. The main dining area is rather quaint, and seats around 30 people. Large Gaudi-like murals adorn one side of the dining area, while the other side has large windows draped in immaculate white curtains.

On this visit, I ordered the Lasarte Menu consisting exclusively of Berastegui's exclusive dishes.

Photo: Pinoy Traveller

The first amuse-bouche was a thick gazpacho soup with cockles. Now this foodie friend of yours is generally not a big fan of gazpacho (unlike our dear Ms. Patty who has acquired such a taste for this dish). But lo and behold, this was the best gazpacho soup I ever tasted. The rich fresh tomato flavour was overwhelmingly refreshing, changing my rather poor perception of gazpacho soups. The next amuse-bouche followed: a mille-feuille of foie gras, green apple, and smoked eel, topped with caramelized sugar. The combination of tastes and textures was heavenly in the palate.

Photo: Pinoy Traveller

For starters, I was first served with a salad of herbs, shoots and petals with lettuce cream, cockles and lobster, all on top of a clear gelatinous broth. What a picturesque sight when this dish was laid in front of me. It tasted very fresh, light, and the broth was tasty. Then came the Iberian cured ham soup with crispy bacon, stuffed zucchini and Parmesan cheese cracker. Simply yummy!

Photo: Pinoy Traveller

For the mains, the baked sea bass with stewed Swiss chard, tender leaves and stems salad with sesame and lemon dressing first arrived. I always love sea bass, and this one was really well prepared with many textures on the plate. This was then followed by what was instantly my favorite: the beef filet with confited peppers, juice of spring onion, and gnocchi. The beef was oh so tender I swear it melted in my mouth!

When the desserts came, I was already full and greatly satisfied. I could only wish the sweet-tart Ms. Hollie was there to continue with the desserts. But when the lemon peel ice-cream, sable, burnt meringue and vanilla veil were served, resistance was simply futile. I blissfully took a few large scoops and emptied the plate. And oh, not to forget, the server offered a new napkin before the dessert started. How thoughtful is that? That was the first time I have actually seen such change in napkins.

Restaurante Lasarte proved to be a great dining experience. The exceptional cooking, the originality, the creative combination of flavors and aesthetic presentation worked very well for me. It clearly sets the gastronomic standards in Barcelona. Truly deserving of its shining Michelin stars.


Yours,

La Dolce Vita