Adventures in foreign fooding

Juicy, bloody, fresh, soft, tender. The steak here in Argentina is to die for (so I’ve heard). I’m not a meat eater. I know, crazy right? I currently reside in the meat eating capital of the universe.  It seems a sin that my mouth refuses to water at the mere mention of lomo or entraña or bife de chorizo.  An average Argentinian eats approximately 155 pounds of beef each year (that’s like my boyfriend eating the equivalent of 1.3 me’s!).  Vegetarianism is definitely not cool here.  Actually, most people think it’s just plain silly.

So it’s no surprise that this city would be home to some amazing parillas (steakhouses), the kind that put any high-end steak house in San Francisco to shame.  Our favourites include Las Cabras, Don Julio and La Dorita.  They offer varied menus, great quality food and lively ambiance, all at reasonable prices.

At these places, I always manage to get a good chicken dish while stealing bites of steak here and there.  We have fantastic wine, a fresh salad and if there’s room, some form of postre with dulce de leche dripping from the spoon.

But sometimes, especially after gorging myself with food porn courtesy of Anthony Bourdain, the Asian in me just needs some rice damnit!  I want good ol’ glutenous rice!  So, by end of week when it’s time to decide where to go for a Friday evening date, we always manage to find our way into a trendy Asian/Arabic/Indian food joint.

If steak is Argentina’s greatest food asset, let’s just say that rice and anything to do with it is not.  Each time we go “foreign”, we get burned.  Bad.  Bereber’s Morroccan food got on the wrong plane between there and here, while picking up a few fancy lamps from Egypt and a colourful throw pillow along the way.  The restaurant is well decorated, but the food leaves much to be desired.

And don’t get me started on the sushi in this city!  Tuna rolls include canned tuna, cream cheese and something green that should taste like wasabi but does not.

So, when we entered a beautiful, candlelit place called Quibombo near Plaza Armenia in Palermo for a snack, I shouldn’t have expected much.  The menu touts all-natural Indian and Asian foods like mango lassi’s, falafel and chicken teriyaki.  The place is beautifully decorated, with plush cushions, low chairs, draping fabrics and well-placed candles.  In fact, because it was so aesthetically pleasing we couldn’t help but get excited about the food.

We ordered mango banana lassi’s, a falafel appetizer and maldioca chips and fries.  The servings were small but tasty.  The lassi didn’t taste like lassi at all, but at least it contained more milk than water.  I was impressed.  Considering our disappointing experiences with international cuisine, this place wasn’t so bad.  The boy thought otherwise.

He took one sip of the supposed lassi and made a face.  It’s like a bad milkshake!! he said.  When the little plates came, he couldn’t help but chuckle.  Tiny! his face said.  T.I.N.Y.  Ok fine, they were tiny but they were good.  Really good.

When the waiter came and asked how we liked everything, I replied with a smile.  The boy, on the other hand, had no problems telling him that the lassi tasted like a bad milkshake, that he couldn’t taste the mango, that the servings were small.  Ha.  The waiter apologized, cleared our table and came back with a discount on our drinks.  He apologized for our dissatisfaction.  How nice!

Needless to say, we enjoyed our afternoon snack.  A few hours of coffee talk in a beautiful room overlooking the cobblestone streets of Palermo was well worth the adventure.

The moral(s) of the story:

  1. When in Argentina, do like the Argentinians and stick to steak if you’re craving an excellent meal.
  2. Regardless of how the food tastes, restaurants here are just GORGEOUS.  Appreciate with your eyes as well as with your tongue.
  3. If you don’t like the food and the waiter asks what you thought at the end of the meal, speak your mind.  Help them improve.  Otherwise, it’s just useless bitching. =)

PS:  Through recommendations from a friend, we did find a beautiful English pub called Bangalore that has a small Indian restaurant upstairs.  The food is rich and creamy (although not very spicy), the space is small and intimate, and the atmosphere is great for a mellow Friday night.  I’d definitely recommend it.

Share the Post:

Related Posts

Latest Posts

Discover more from A Girl in the World by Denise Gamboa

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading