Upset about the demise of Brangelina? I hear you. But, get over it! I have a much more spectacular twosome to talk about.
That's right. You guessed it:
Strawberries and Balsamic vinegar.
This is a power couple, if ever there was. Their marriage may not make headlines, but I know it's elicited many a sweet smile and moan of delight.
The way the vinegar lends a tart edge to the fruit, it is clear that these two simply belong together.
And, frankly, I'm happy to join in and make it a thruple.
When you get down to it, that's a silly question. The answer is "everywhere."
Trope thought it may be, Buenos Aires is most certainly the bife capitol of the world. The city is a carnivore's wet dream. Rarely is any other type of meat on a menu half as good as the steak. Classic Argentinian steakhouses, known as parrillas, are a mainstay on the dining scene, whether you hit a traditional futbol-memorabilia strewn spot like San Telmo's La Brigada...
...for perfectly cooked short rib roast and old-school waiters, or you venture to La Carniceria for a Flintstone-sized steak smoked or grilled by carne-fixated hipsters who would be as comfortable cooking in Brooklyn's Bushwick as in BA's Palermo Soho.
But beef isn't just found at your neighborhood parrilla. It is found in your corner cafe. And, if you're lucky enough to have your corner cafe be La Rambla in Recoleta, that means the steak is served gorgeously jugoso with any number of toppings on fresh French bread...
This is the Lomito Sandwich of your dreams. And, if you haven't been dreaming of this Lomito Sandwich before, you should start doing so now.
The town is just as fanatical about grinding up its beef, patty-fying it, and serving it up hamburguesa-style. The 45-day dry-aged burger at the Four Seasons Pony Line Lounge is as swell as its surroundings. By BA standards this burger beauty, sitting on a brioche bun showered with broiled cheddar, is a pricey treat - but it's still a great deal less expensive that Minetta Tavern's Black Label Burger.
And, if that isn't enough beef for you, how about putting it into a nifty, baked hand-pie?
Did you think I would forget about all the delectable ground and stewed carne smacked in pastry dough and baked up in Empanadas? No, I did not! Some are better than others, but there isn't a panaderia in the city that doesn't serve up these addictive treats without at least a couple of versions filled with bife.
Of course, it's not that chicken, pork, and even lamb can't be had now and then. In fact, I was duly impressed seeing an entire rabbit section in the butcher aisle at my local Disco supermarket. But, bife most certainly reigns supreme. Red meat and Buenos Aires are a match. Visit, and it's game on.
I realize that Buenos Aires is considered a mecca for meat, but I have been on the hunt for great seafood and fish in this carne-crazed town. It's a tough ask.
Still, there have been some wins - especially Grilled Langostinos, fresh with a delicate sweetness, at San Telmo's exquisite Cafe Rivas. Then there was the shrimp-filled ravioli at Chacarita neighborhood cafe Rita, blanketed with a cream sauce and dotted with bright red roasted tomatoes...
Each bite brought me a bit closer to the sea.
Yet, I get the feeling that these meals were aberrations in BA's bife-obsessed food scene. Most restaurants offer very little by way of seafood and fish. And, while these two dishes were fantastic, they are the exception to the rule.
Case in point: La Mar, the city's Peruvian import, a high-end cebicheria that is on every critics' "must visit" list. It was a total disappointment. The menu had a focus on fish, yes, but they drowned most of it in sickly sweet sauces. Even the classic ceviche was lackluster in many respects. Some of the flavors were spot-on, but ultimately the kitchen didn't trust the fish to grab the spotlight as the star of the show.
And, although BA has many sushi spots, maki with gobs of cream cheese is the norm. Authenticity and quality fish really aren't the sushi strong suits here. Think middling salmon and tempura rolls. Meh to say the the least.
Well, what about making fish or seafood at home? Aren't there some solid fishmongers in town? Um, no. Several locals urged me to visit Barrio Chino, which supposedly has the best that BA has to offer. Let's just say that if that's the best the city has to provide, I understand why folks stick to meat here.
So, am I "Debbie downer" when it comes to things aquatic in Buenos Aires? Not entirely, but I will say that I can't wait to sink my teeth into some really good sushi when I get back to New York. Until then, though, I will revel in BA's beefier delights.
There is nothing like hitting the hottest "no reservations" restaurant in town, being told your wait will be an hour, and then 10 minutes later being summoned by the hostess to sit at a festive communal table with a food-loving U.S. dignitary and his fantastic friends. Such was my night at Proper, a former Palermo mechanics shop turned hipster hot spot. With my NYC gal pal Sandra in tow, I took in the warehouse-like surroundings and large open kitchen, and we promptly ordered up a bottle of Torrontes.
Oh, but then there was the food.
Such food.
First up was a flavorful carrot hummus with house-made yogurt. We could hardly resist licking the plate clean. Next was a small dish of perfectly cooked baby octopus sauteed with garbanzo beans. We followed that up with a massive slice of halloumi cheese, blisteringly charred, sitting on a mound of roasted cauliflower, briny black olives, and caramelized onion. And, last but not least there was the cordero -- as pictured above, gorgeously grilled lamb atop seared eggplant and a smattering of bright peas, graced with pomegranate seeds and a blizzard of fresh herbs.
We were happy chicas. Full chicas.
But, no matter. A surprise postre was presented anyway - compliments of the convivial diplomat at the table.
"How could we have a proper cena in Buenos Aires without dessert?"
Dipping our spoons into the rich, creamy dulce de leche flan, we couldn't have agreed more.
Once again I have failed you. I've flown all the way to Buenos Aires and there are no photos of steak. You'd think by now you'd be used to this kind of disappointment. You'd expect a switcheroo. But, I promise this Buenos Aires bakery in Recoleta is more than worthy of my first post from Argentina this August.
The bakery in question - well, patisserie, to be exact - is called Smeterling. Not very Argentine in name, but oh what magical delights await the Porteño with a sweet tooth.
I caught an eyeful of their tempting treats through the shop's window and in I went. The scent of freshly baking macarons filled the air. What a welcoming morning aroma!
It didn't take long for me to settle on a gorgeous pastry enrobed with crunchy cornflakes and chocolate...
It reminded me of Jacques Torres' bags of chocolate-covered cornflakes and Cheerios. Besides, cereal in the AM, nothing wrong with that. Heck, I was having a cup of coffee alongside. Sounds like breakfast to me!
Let's say it together: "dessert for desayuno." I think that'll catch on - especially if you're hitting Smeterling in the morning.
I plunged my fork into the crackling flakes and descended into a thick chocolate mousse and crisp meringue and nut base. A few sips of my cortado, a few more luscious bites, and I'd laid waste to what is purportedly the most important meal of the day.
I was sated. I was still. But then the intoxicating scent of lemon zest started to take over the small nook where I was sitting...
Zesting for what, I didn't know, but odds are it was for something delicioso. Should I stick around and wait for whatever it was to come out of the oven?
It took all my will to tear myself away, avoiding the urge to take a few little cakes and cookies back to the apartment for "dessert for dinner" as well.
And, how about "dessert for desayuno?" That's most definitely gonna become a thing.
August in Argentina. Rebooting the summer in cooler climes. Get ready to be regaled with stories of adventure, steak, and wine!
I've never thought much about hummus. It can be good, but it's usually middling. But recently I experienced great hummus. Really great hummus. Mind-blowing hummus.
My pal Joy has often talked about the hummus that her Syrian-American aunts whip up, waxing on about its genius. I have yet to partake in her "family hummus" recipe, but if it is anything like the glossy chickpea manna I was served at Philadelphia's Dizengoff, I'm all in. And, for the record, the recently opened Dizengoff in New York's Chelsea Market serves equally marvelous stuff.
Go. Embrace the chickpea as it has never been embraced before.
Hummus. It's what's for dinner.
I've always appreciated it when my food looks like food. Beautiful plating is one thing, but when you take it too far it ventures into precious territory.
I'm not fond of precious.
Yet, I couldn't deny swooning at Chelsea's Kat & Theo, tucking into a dish of Diver Scallop Crudo that looked like a fantastical glen, ready for a troop of elves and hobbits. Dessert was equally odd, but much less lush in imagery. With smashed tres leches cake, cracked meringue batons, brown butter, maple syrup, and a sprinkling of fennel pollen, it looked, well...
...not terribly pretty. The flavors though? Spot on.
Still, I can't help but wonder if there would have been more tables filled if the food looked like - let me say it again - food.
And, in case you're thinking this is a product of the wild and crazy New York restaurant scene, let me assure you that preciousness seems to extend beyond the five boroughs. A recent trip to D.C. had me dining at the new Chinese-Peruvian hot spot China Chilcano. South American variations on dim sum and fried rice were delicious and creatively presented, but dessert went more than a bit too far...
It was supposed to be a riff on the classic Peruvian sweet pudding Suspiro Limeño. Sadly, though, even if this modern riff had been tasty (which it wasn't), it's appearance was too off-putting to eat with gusto.
Word to the wise: Precious is a very hard thing to pull off. And, even when you do, I'm not sure it's worth the trouble.
One more time for the cheap seats: I like food that looks like food. 'Nuff said.
No one says they are going to Spain for the chicken.
Seafood? Yes.
Paella? Definitely.
Jamon? Abso-freakin-lutely!
So, I was surprised when a bartender pal of mine in Brooklyn insisted I check out Casa Mingo when I get to Madrid. This old warehouse restaurant is known for two things - cider and roast chicken. No surprise that Missy K and I ordered up both right quick when we arrived. We tossed in a simple salad, a slice of Spanish tortilla, a bowl of buttery green olives, and a plate of Lacon (lightly smoked pork shoulder) - the latter, as to avoid insulting Spain's first and foremost "white meat."
That said, the chicken was stupendously good. I still smile thinking about those delicious chicken juices dribbling down my chin.
It might have been my favorite meal in Madrid.
Strike that.
It was my favorite meal in Madrid.
Chicken may be underrated in Spain, but when they decide to commit to pollo, it is truly perfecto.
Nothing in Spain seemed quite as vital to the national culture as its glorious, dry-cured ham. Gin and tonics came in at a close second, but Jamon definitely ruled the day - and, the night too for that matter, when restaurants save space for a decked out leg of Jamon iberico with a knife-wielding ham-slicing expert at-the-ready. More often than not, two or three bone-in beauties are polished off in night.
Then of course there is the Museo del Jamon...
...a small Madrid chain of grocery stores dedicated to the history and majesty of Jamon.
Thinking this would be an excellent franchise opportunity for someone in the States. Happy to make an investment. After relishing this gorgeous delicacy on its home turf, thinking Jamon is probably a safer bet than gold right now. And, goodness knows, it's a lot more tasty.
There really isn't anything more exquisite than fresh seafood. Barcelona was brimming with the stuff -- briny, sweet, and altogether addictive. An Oyster Ceviche at Suculent in the Raval went down all too easy on my first night in town, and I was on my way.
A trip to Barcelona's beach was required. And, a stop at the seaside Marina Bay by Moncho's wasn't a disappointment, with a brilliantly simple plate of Grilled Shrimp and Squid...
Watch eyes roll back into head with pleasure.
I've been told that I was remiss in in missing out on Barcelona's canned seafood goodies as well. Guess that gives me an excuse to return.
My first meal in Seville was unquestionably the best. My pal Max had recommended I hit Bodeguita Romero, a casual neighborhood spot for tapas. So, once we checked into our hotel, I grabbed Missy K and the two of us worked our way through Seville's winding alleys to settle into an outdoor table at the front of the tavern for a proper lunch. After a cross-Atlantic flight and a three hour train trip we were famished and thankfully even the media raciones that we ordered were more than ample.
First up, a heaping bowl of perfectly marinated potatoes, followed by a platter of thinly sliced cured Spanish lomo, and a plate of rich, nutty Manchego cheese. We laid waste to it all and then ordered up more. We moaned over a couple of golden brown, crisp salt cod croquettes, and then let a quick saute of farmhouse eggs and wild asparagus bring up the rear.
And then there was the main event...
This sucker may be small, but it packs a wallop. Called a Pringa Montadito, it is a miniature sandwich stuffed with bits of glorious braised pork and a smear of morcilla blood sausage. I know it sounds like a weird combo, but trust me. This is the bite-sized sandwich that bar snacking dreams are made of.
Sadly, we never made it back to Bodeguita Romero for a round two with their tapas menu, but Missy K continued talking about that Pringa Montadito till the end of our trip. I'm sure she's talking about it still...
