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Cheering up at Cheripan

I missed out on an incredibly low airfare to Buenos Aires, because I didn't move fast enough.

Never mind, I had a very good Argentine meal anyway, not at home in Los Angeles, and not in Buenos Aires, but in a place where I never expected to find such food--Tijuana.

The restaurant was Cheripan in Tijuana's gastronomic zone. And it's as sleek and smart as any I've seen in Buenos Aires.

The chef/owner, Juan Carlos Equiluz, is from Cordoba, Argentina. The chimichurri sauce on the table is Cordoba style, he says, not that I can define what that means. Every chimichurri is different, even in the same city.

Grilled meat is what Argentinian cooking is about. Cheripan's lead steak, entrana de res, is Mexican beef, tender and a little mild for my taste. But the grilled sweetbreads were wonderful, even though not as crispy as those at my favorite parrillada restaurant in Buenos Aires, El Yugo. 

The menu has all the Argentine big guns: A variety of steaks; mild, Argentine style chorizo; pasta; provoleta (grilled cheese); typical sandwiches such as choripan (chorizo), and six kinds of empanadas (beef, chorizo, mushroom, corn and cheese, spinach and caprese).

The chorizo, which is made at the restaurant, is quite good. I would like to have tried the provoleta to see what cheese was used. Argentinians in Los Angeles say cheese that holds its shape when grilled isn't available here, so I have never used the little clay provoleta dish that I brought home from Buenos Aires.

Aimed at the local crowd are empanadas filled with Mexican chorizo, cheese and jalapenos and provoleta Mexicana, with Mexican chorizo and jalapenos.

Entrana Gauchesca (gaucho style steak) also has a dose of jalapenos, as well as garlic, parsley and tomato. Argentinians couldn't stomach the chiles. They abhor seriously spicy food.  

The wines set out for my group were Luigi Bosca's La Linda Malbec 2004 from Mendoza and Santa Silvia Shiraz Cabernet Sauvignon 2006 from the Tulum Valley, San Juan.

Waiters walked around the table shaking icy tamarind martinis composed of vodka, Grand Marnier, lemon and lime juices, tamarind and, according to Equiluz, secret components. The same drink with tequila is a tequilino.

You wouldn't get either of these in Argentina, so I feel sorry for folks there. A nice touch is having your own shaker for a refill.

Equiluz also has a gelato shop, and a tamarind martini gelato is on the menu there. We did try his coconut gelato, and a deeply flavored chocolate gelato that turned out to be sugar-free. I would never have guessed.

But what could be more Argentinian than mil hojas, or puff pastry, layered with dulce de leche and Italian meringue and topped with almonds and more dulce de leche?

Super sweet, caramel-like dulce de leche is the Argentinian sweet staff of life. Cheripan puts it in crepes too, and it's frozen stiff at the gelato shop.

Cheripan, Escuadron 201, No. 3151, Distrito Gastronomico, Colonia Aviacion, Tijuana. Tel: (664) 622-9730.

Another branch is at the Plaza Americana Otay, Avenida Tecnologico 2100,  Mesa de Otay, Tijuana. Tel: (664) 623-1278.

Argelato Caffe, Plaza Pavilion, Local 114 (by Gandhi and Liverpool), Tijuana. Tel (664) 971-0099.

Buenos Aires' Best: A Stir-Fry

Who would guess that my top dish in Buenos Aires this past trip would be—not steak, not pizza, not pasta, but a Chinese stir-fry.

It was a beautiful contrast to the overload of ham and cheese in which I had indulged. Apart from steak, these two seem to be the staff of life in Buenos Aires. And I was ready for something else.

I found it when, by accident, I wound up in Chinatown. I had gone to Belgrano to visit the Museo de Arte Espanol Enrique Larreta, a mansion that is now a museum of Spanish art and furnishings. But I arrived too early. it hadn't opened.

There was nothing to do but explore the neighborhood. Walking along Avenida Juramento, where the taxi had let me off, I passed the usual cafes and shops. And then I stumbled upon Arribenos, a  cross street crammed with Chinese restaurants, markets and shops selling the sort of Asian trinkets you find in Chinatowns everywhere.

The Casa China had the same things as Asian markets in Los Angeles, from woks and ladles to sushi vinegar, low-salt soy sauce,  lemongrass, Thai shrimp paste and fresh seafood on ice.

But where to eat?  There were too many choices. Midday bargain lunches were tempting. For as little as $4.50, they offered several options. But which would be best?

And so I asked a man who appeared to live in the neighborhood. “Go to that one,” he said, pointing across the street. “Everyone likes it.”

And that is how I came to eat at Todos Contentos, a traditional Chinese restaurant fitted out with red lanterns, red walls and placemats with Chinese horoscopes. Instead of chopsticks, tables were set with knives, forks and big spoons.

My $7.60 choice from the "menu con platos combinados" (combination plates) included just two dishes and a drink. All three were very, very good.  

Pollo con almendras (almond chicken) was light, fresh and perfectly cooked. The moist and tender chicken chunks were tossed with diced carrot and red and green bell peppers, then finished off with a handful of fried whole almonds. 

The chop suey beside it showed off impeccably fresh, crunchy bean sprouts combined with shredded carrot, green onions and cabbage.

The sauce for these dishes appeared to be nothing more than broth seasoned lightly with soy sauce. And so I was able to taste the food directly, free of extraneous flavors.  

The drink choices were mineral water, a gaseosa (soda) or cold tea.  Even the tea was exceptional, at least to my taste. It came in a tall glass without ice but sweetened, just as tea in Indonesia is sweet unless you specify no sugar.

Todos Contentos means everybody content. After that lunch, I was no exception.  

Todos Contentos, Arribenos 2177, Belgrano, Buenos Aires, Argentina. Local Tel: 4780-3437. 

A Tale of Two Milanesas

Talk about coming full circle:

The first place I ate a milanesa sandwich was in Buenos Aires at the Pasadena Cafe. This was my first meal in that far off city, late at night after the long flight from Los Angeles.  It seemed odd to find, across the street from my hotel, a cafe with the same name as the city adjacent to  my hometown.

Even odder, the next time I had a milanesa sandwich was in Pasadena itself, and at an Argentinian restaurant.

Malbec (in the bottom photo), which replaces a short-lived Argentinian place on Green Street, offers "new Argentinian cuisine," but  also old favorites such as empanadas, gnocchi, sorrentinos (Argentinian ravioli) grilled meats and milanesa sandwiches.

Malbec's milanesa is a thin cut of beef or chicken that is breaded, fried, then  layered with arugula and tomato in a baguette spread with mayonnaise and grainy mustard.

In comparison, the Pasadena Cafe's milanesa was rudimentary--a thin, chewy strip of fried meat  gripped in the center by a tiny roll.  A glass of house red wine and dulce de leche gelato decorated with wafer cookies completed that meal.

At Malbec, lunch started with a basket of baguette slices to eat with chimichurri, a classic Argentinian sauce made at this restaurant with parlsey and fresh oregano, olive oil, lemon juice, pepper and other spices.

Next came the day's soup, a simple but very good puree of broccoli, leeks and potato.

The French fries with my sandwich were commercial. Nevertheless, they were the best that I have had recently--soft, hot potato inside a thin, crisp outer layer. Light, and not greasy. I ate every one.

Instead of the Pasadena Cafe's nondescript glass of borgona (Burgundy), I sipped with great pleasure a glass of Don David reserve Torrontes from Salta province in northwestern Argentina. This light, floral white wine is perfect for lunch.

In a restaurant named for Argentina's premier red wine grape, there is bound to be a good selection of Malbecs. The wine list, composed exclusively of wines from Argentina, offers  17 of them.

On a previous visit, I ordered Finca de Domingo Malbec from Salta, interesting because most Malbecs come from Mendoza, the main wine-making region of Argentina. However, Salta produces some that are excellent. 

That time, I ordered a dish that Argentinians love to hate, gnocchi, which is traditionally eaten on the 29th of the month, when money from the last paycheck is running out.

The only time I ate gnocchi in Buenos Aires, the dumplings were tough and chewy, which would justify the porvery link. However, I was eating them in fashionable Recoleta, and they were not cheap.

Malbec's gnocchi restored my confidence. The dumplings were light and tender and the tomato-laden beef stew that went with them was a great dish in its own right.

Sometimes eating food far from its place of origin means making do with second-rate renditions. That is not true at Malbec, based on what I have had. And the prices are reasonable. An $11.95 business lunch special  includes soup or salad, any sandwich or a pasta, coffee or a soft drink. Wine is additional.

Odd that I never ate at the Pasadena Cafe in Buenos Aires again, although I have walked past it many times. In case you are traveling there, here is the address:

Pasadena Cafe, Guido 1705, corner Rodgriguez Pena, Buenos Aires, Argentina. Tel: 4815-0545.

Malbec, 1001 E. Green Street, Pasadena, CA 91106. Tel: (626) 683-0550.

A Penguin to the Rescue

The empanadas are good at La Americana. They ought to be, because this big, bustling restaurant in Buenos Aires claims to be "La Reina de las Empanadas " (The Queen of Empanadas).

What I go there for isn't the empanadas, though. but the penguins.

No, not penguins to eat, but to provide more wine than I should probably drink at one sitting.

For some reason that I don't know, ceramic penguins are prized as wine decanters in Buenos Aires. Not just at restaurants but in homes too, because housewares stores sell them.

They come in various sizes, either white or brown. White is the usual color for wine. Brown might do for beer.

Not knowing about the penguins, I  went to La Americana because  Jose, a guy I met at a pizza place, sent me.  He thought I would like the empanadas. "They might be too spicy for you," he warned. They were not. 

"Spicy" in Buenos Aires means an extra shot of "spices" such as green onions, not chiles. So an empanada saltena con picante, a Salta style beef empanada at La Americana, contained nothing very picante.

Hojaldra de atun--tuna inside puff pastry--was sweet and caramelized  at the edges. And pascualina wasn't an empanada at all, but a wedge of spinach and egg torte.

This was hearty food, and I needed liquid refreshment. A penguin of house wine to the rescue.

A few days later I went back for an empanada criolla (hand-cut beef)  and a pizzeta calabresa, a little pizza topped with tomato, mozzarella, sausage  and a sprinkle of oregano .

This time, I chose Crotta Bonarda Malbec from the wine list. It too came in a penguin.

A few months later, I was back. This time I  consumed an entire pizza Brasilena (tomato sauce, mozzarella, ham, pineapple, red bell pepper and green olives).

It was late, and the restaurant was jammed.  But the line for tables moved quickly, and I was soon wedged in a corner seat by a window where I could observe penguins as they arrived at nearby tables.

Prices have risen in Buenos Aires. Nevertheless, this May, my pizza cost less than $7, and would easily have fed two, maybe even three. And the medium penguin of house red wine that you see in the photograph cost just one peso more than the year before--a birdful of wine for only $2. 

La Americana, 83 Callao, corner Bartolome Mitre, Buenos Aires, Argentina. Tel: 4371-0202.

Koreatown in Buenos Aires

The spicy Korean stew kimchi jjigae is as simple as it is wonderful.  My Korean friend Sejung can whip it up in seconds, using cabbage kimchi, pork, onion, garlic, tofu and  rice cakes.

Aside from hers, the best kimchi jjigae that I have eaten recently was at a restaurant, not  in Koreatown, Los Angeles, where there are scores of eating places, but in Buenos Aires.

No tourist would ever find Kil Chong.  It is hidden away in Flores, a section of the city where the first Korean immigrants settled in the 1960s.  There is no sign that says restaurant, no indication of cooking, no dining room that can be seen from the outside, just the name in the Korean script Hangul on a small lantern high above the doorway.

I found it thanks to two friends, Korea-born Monica Lee and Carolina Mera, a professor at the University of Buenos Aires who lectures and writes about Korean migration.

Driving around the barrio with them, I saw Korean-owned textile businesses, a Korean school, churches, a Buddhist temple, a panaderia (bakery) with a sign in Hangul, small markets and other enterprises.

The Korean population of Argentina once numbered 45,000, Carolina said. Now it is down to 20,000, almost all of them in Buenos Aires.

Long ago, Flores was a wealthy area and a separate town. The rich moved elsewhere and Flores was amalgamated into the city. During Argentina’s economic crisis from 1991 to 2002, many of its Korean inhabitants left the country, and the barrio became impoverished. On Saturday, when businesses close in the afternoon, it was especially quiet.

Fortunately, Kil Chong was open. We entered through a bare hallway, then climbed upstairs to a plain room with formica-topped tables and ceiling fans.

The restaurant caters to Koreans, not outsiders, and so the menu is in Hangul, with no Spanish translation and, certainly, no English.

There are just 16 dishes, including bulgogi (grilled beef), galbi  tang (short rib soup), mandu (dumpling) soup, bibim bap (a rice bowl with meat, vegetables and egg), sun dubu (soft tofu), naengmyeon (cold noodles with or without broth), and kimchi jjigae.

Our lunch was impressive. We feasted on 10 side dishes (banchan) in addition to the dishes we ordered, a far more generous display than that offered at a couple of ambitious new Korean restaurants in Los Angeles.

Along with sweet and sour radish, cucumber strips, soy bean sprouts and other vegetables, the little dishes held dried radish leaves, squares of Korean pancake, dried fish with potato, tiny spicy dried fish and fatty pork slices with hot red sauce.

Fiery red, richly flavored kimchi jjigae came in a black stone bowl. The marinade for bulgogi (grilled beef, cooked in the kitchen), was topnotch. Carolina asked for yukgae jang, a spicy meat soup, and Monica wanted naengmyon drenched with sweet and spicy red sauce.

Kil Chong makes its own kochujang, the red pepper paste that is used in many Korean dishes, and this indicates the effort that goes into the food.

Tourists are more likely to go to Bi Won, which is closer to the heart of town and well publicized.

Although owned by Koreans, Bi Won cooks for Argentinian tastes, and the food lacks true Korean flavor. The night I was there, the restaurant had no kimchi, which would never happen in a genuine Korean restaurant.   

Bi Won offers the sort of Asian decor that tourists like, and the service is good. But for food, Kil Chong is worth the long ride to Flores, a barrio way off tourist routes.

Ordering from a menu in Hangul needn’t be a problem. Just point to numbers 5, 7, 8 and 11, and you will have a delicious, inexpensive meal of dumpling soup, grilled beef, bibim bap, kimchi jjigae, beef broth, rice and all the banchan you can eat.

Kil Chong, Campana 714, Flores, Buenos Aires, Argentina. Tel: 4674-5900.

Bi Won, Junin 548, Buenos Aires, Argentina. Tel: 4372-1146.

A Curry from Buenos Aires

You never know what will turn up in the book shops along Avenida Corrientes in Buenos Aires. Besides the new books, there are old, out of print books, used books and overstocks that failed to find buyers.

On this last trip I turned up a real prize, “Los Platos de Mi Mesa” (“Dishes from my Table”) by a restaurateur of the past, Roberto Fernandez Beyro.

In addition to owning a popular restaurant in Buenos Aires called Monty’s, now long gone, Fernandez Beyro had managed the kitchens of the exclusive Jockey Club and Plaza Hotel and for a time had a restaurant in Rio de Janeiro.

Writing more than 20 years ago, he lamented the lack of gastronomic culture in Argentina, where traditional dishes inherited from Spain and enriched with contributions from other South American countries and the Caribbean were “deformed,” and attempts at creativity produced “absurd mixtures.”

His antidote was this book of simple, well thought out recipes, mostly continental, but also traditional and international.

I tried his curry de pollo (chicken curry) and found it delightful, even elegant. Showing a restrained continental approach, it's more like braised chicken and vegetables seasoned with curry powder than a spicy Indian dish.

Fernandez Beyro served the curry with rice timbales on what must have been lovely occasions. There would have been wine too, because he was an admirer of the wines produced in Argentina.

My accompaniments were basmati rice seasoned with a yellow condiment for rice that I bought in a supermarket in Buenos Aires; a fruity chutney and a red wine, as Fernandez Beyro recommended reds with chicken.

On the basis of just this dish, I can say that my 10 pesos (about $3) were well spent.

CURRY DE POLLO
Adapted from “Los Platos de Mi Mesa” by Roberto Fernandez Beyro (Emece Editores; 1986)

2 pounds chicken pieces, such as legs and thighs
Salt
1 onion, finely chopped
2 small stalks celery, chopped
1 ½ carrots, cut into small dice
1 small apple, peeled and chopped
1 small yellow chile or other chile, seeded and chopped
1 tablespoon curry powder
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon flour
Black pepper
¼ cup whipping cream

Trim the chicken pieces of skin and excess fat. Place in a Dutch oven. Cover with water and add salt to taste. Bring to a boil, cover and simmer until tender, about 45 minutes. Let cool in the broth, then remove the chicken pieces and tear off the meat, discarding the bones. Drain the broth and reserve.

Meanwhile, prepare the onion, celery, carrots, apple and chile and set aside. Blend the curry powder with 3 tablespoons of the reserved broth after it has cooled.

Heat the olive oil in the cleaned Dutch oven. Add the vegetables, apple and chile and cook until reduced and very tender, 20 to 25 minutes, stirring occasionally to keep from burning.

Add the flour, 1 cup of the reserved broth and the curry powder mixture. Blend well. Add the chicken pieces and gently combine. Add salt and pepper to taste. Cover and simmer gently 10 minutes. When ready to serve, stir in the cream and heat through.

If the curry should thicken too much, stir in some of the reserved broth. Use the remainder to cook rice to go with the curry. 

Makes 4 servings.

The Best of Lima and Buenos Aires

Selecting the “best of” anything is purely subjective. So this list of  “bests,” drawn from my recent days in  Lima and Buenos Aires, reflects only my own reactions. The next trip could produce an entirely different list of “bests.”

Fuller reviews of most of these restaurants will appear on www.tableconversation.com in the next few weeks.  One thing is certain. Both cities offer plenty of good eating. 

LIMA, PERU:

Best Restaurant: Pescados Capitales, a seafood restaurant in Miraflores.

Best Main Dishes:  Pork loin glazed with algarrobina (carob) sauce  and Trujillo style arroz con pollo (chicken with rice) at El Senorio de Sulco in Miraflores.

Best Dessert:  A tie between cherimoya  mousse on a crunchy praline crust at Pescados Capitales and coconut-topped arroz zambito, an exceptionally good version of a  traditional rice pudding, at El Bolivariano in Pueblo Libre.

Best Drink: Pisco Sour.

Best Coffee: Peet's coffee at my guest house in Miraflores.

Toughest Ticket: Getting into La Mar, the trendy restaurant on Avenida La Mar in Miraflores.

Best Food Buy: The normous caramelized pecans from Ica at a dried fruit and nut stall in the San Isidro Municipal Market.

Best Non-Food Buy: Salad forks and spoons made of beautifully grained olive wood from Arequipa.

Nicest Surprise: Stumbling across a copy of the out-of-print book “Los Chifas en El Peru” (a history of Chinese restaurants in Peru) by Lima journalist Mariela Balbi.

Nicest Moment: Snagging a table at La Gloria in Miraflores, ranked as one of Lima’s top restaurants, on my last night there without a reservation.

Greatest Disappointment: Gloomy, sodden weather.

Next Trip: Another try at La Mar and a side trip to Arequipa, renowned for its cuisine.

BUENOS AIRES

Best Restaurants: Almanza in Palermo Viejo and Social Paraiso in Palermo Soho.

Best Main Dish: Bondiola (pork shoulder) at Almanza, tender enough to eat with a spoon.

Best Dessert: A tie between burrata with fresh and preserved fruits, strips of local cheese, aged balsamic vinegar and black pepper at Damblee in Balvanera and crisp, sweet dried apple slices layered with passion fruit mousse and accompanied by a scoop of Sichuan pepper ice cream at Social Paraiso.

Best Drink: Domingo Molina Malbec 2003 from Salta.

Best Coffee: Café cortado (coffee layered with hot milk) accompanied by candied orange peel shreds at Croque Madame, the restaurant at the National Museum of Decorative Art in Barrio Norte. The museum was once the mansion of the elite Errazuriz Alvear family, which makes the setting as alluring as the drink.

Toughest Ticket: Getting into tourist magnet La Cabrera in Palermo Viejo  at night without a reservation. The wait can last an hour.

Best Food Buy: A luscious glazed nut  tart at Las Familias bakery near Social Paraiso.

Best Non-Food Buy: A pizza slicer made in Argentina.

Nicest Surprise: Finding really good Korean food in a distant part of Buenos Aires.

Nicest moment: Sipping a glass of fragrant Torrontes in the late afternoon at Cartoon Bar and Restaurant in Recoleta.

Greatest Disappointment: Tough, fatty grilled matambrito (a thin cut of pork) at El Trapiche in Palermo Viejo although the restaurant is known for this dish. 

Next Trip:  Back to old favorites such as El Yugo in Recoleta and Il Vero Arturito in Abasto. And I’ll bring home a sack of medialunas, the delicious crescent rolls that Portenos adore. 

Celebrate with Carbonada

July is independence month in South America. Venezuela celebrates July 5, Argentina, July 9 and Peru, July 28.

Along with parades, flag-waving and speeches, the celebrations play up traditional foods. In Argentina, where I’ve taken part in independence festivities, restaurants promote indigenous dishes such as locro (a corn stew), empanadas, humitas (akin to tamales) and carbonada, an extraordinary sweet-sour combination of beef, vegetables and fruits.

My favorite place to eat carbonada is La Querencia in Buenos Aires.  One taste, and I was so enchanted that I hunted down a shop selling the rustic brown pottery bowls in which this stew is traditionally served.

Back home, I went to work recreating it, with great success. Beef stew sounds like a hearty winter dish. In Argentina, July is winter (the seasons are opposite from those in the northern hemisphere), but carbonada is so light that it wouldn’t be out of place on a July menu in the United States.

That’s because fruits and vegetables dominate the meat, which is cut into small pieces, not hearty chunks. The sweetness comes from peaches (La Querencia uses canned peaches; I use dried), raisins and a dash of sugar. These may sound like odd components for a stew, but the combination is delicious. Carrots and yams add sweetness too. The other vegetables, all New World natives, are tomatoes, corn and potatoes. Some versions add yellow squash as well. 

Carbonada is also popular in Peru, which is not surprising, because Lima was Spain’s seat of power in South America, and the stew is most likely a new world interpretation of a Spanish dish.

The rustic food of northwestern Argentina, where Inca influence was once strong, dominates La Querencia’s menu. The restaurant goes all out for independence day, decorating lavishly with the blue and white Argentine flag.

Traditional dishes such as empanadas, locro, carbonada, pastel de papas (an Argentine version of shepherd’s pie) and humita en chala, a grated corn mixture wrapped in a fresh corn husk, are on the menu all year, not just during patriotic holidays.  I’ve eaten carbonada elsewhere, but in my opinion, that at La Querencia is the best.

La Querencia, corner Junin and Juncal, Recoleta, Buenos Aires. Tel: 4821-1888. 

CARBONADA

8 dried peach halves
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 pound beef stew meat, cut in ½-inch cubes
1 small onion, finely chopped
½ pound tomatoes, peeled and chopped
2 cups beef broth
1 cup peach soaking liquid
1 ½ tablespoons sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons salt, plus more as needed
2 bay leaves
2 yams
2 large red potatoes
2 large carrots
1 ½ cups fresh corn kernels
3 tablespoons raisins
2 cups water
12 fresh chives

The day before, place the peach halves in a medium bowl and cover generously with water. Let stand overnight. The next day, drain the peaches, reserving the water, and cut in 1/3-inch wide strips. Set aside.

Heat the oil in a Dutch oven. Add the beef and cook until browned and any liquid cooks away, about 10 minutes. Push to one side. Add the onion and cook until softened, then add the tomatoes and cook 5 minutes, until tender.

Add the beef broth, peach soaking liquid, sugar, 1 ½ teaspoons salt and the bay leaves. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, cover and simmer 40 minutes.

Meanwhile, peel the yams and red potatoes. Cut each in quarters lengthwise, then crosswise in ½-inch pieces. Peel the carrots and cut crosswise in ½-inch slices. Place the potatoes and carrots in cold water to cover until ready to use.

After 40 minutes, add to the beef the drained yams, potatoes and carrots, the corn kernels, raisins and 2 cups water. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, cover and simmer 45 minutes. Do not allow the liquid to boil away. Taste the broth, and add more salt as needed.

Serve in heated bowls. Top each serving with 2 chive strands.

Makes 6 servings.

A Last Lunch in Buenos Aires

The challenge was major--a last meal before leaving Buenos Aires. How could I choose a place so special that I would depart happy and satisfied?  Not a problem. My friend Dan Perlman reviews restaurants (see Another Dinner at Dan's). And he made the decision.

“Some of the best food in the city,” he said, as we headed toward Almanza in Palermo Viejo. At lunch, the restaurant offers a three-course fixed price menu that must be one of the town’s great bargains. It’s not a case of three inexpensive dishes drummed up for a low-priced lunch. For 35 pesos, about $12, you can choose a first course, main dish and dessert from the regular menu.

The food is interesting, artistically presented, and far outshone my last 5-star meal in Los Angeles (I won’t say where that was).

Owner Martin Baquero sent out an appetizer plate of rabbit liver pate with an orange reduction as we debated what to order. I started with a beautiful plate of warm camembert set off by a swirl of herbed walnut oil, tomato confit and a stack of greens. Dan had nettle soup, which was creamy and pleasant. 

When he suggested  pate canard confitado—duck confit—I hesitated, because my last go-round with duck in Los Angeles had been unpleasantly greasy. Dan was right, though. This duck was another story.  Marinated, then cooked slowly in duck fat, it was light, tender, moist and not a bit fatty. Mashed potatoes with thyme and onion marmalade set it off nicely. Meanwhile, he ate fusilli with tiny albondigas of beef, porcini mushrooms and nut pesto.

The desserts were beautiful.  I liked the chunky almond ice cream that came with kadaif, a roll of Middle Eastern shredded pastry on a plate splashed with multi-colored sauces, but I coveted the tarragon ice cream that went with Dan’s apple tart.

A Bodega del Fin del Mundo Pinot Noir 2005 was a nice change from the fruit-laden Malbecs that we had been drinking.  But I can’t say that airline food was a nice change after having eaten so well at Almanza.

Almanza, corner Godoy Cruz and Charcas, Palermo Viejo, Buenos Aires. Tel: 15-8515-3749

She Purrs for Palmeritas

Just before leaving Buenos Aires, I rushed to Louis XV, a pastry shop near my hotel, to buy cookies--not for me, but for my cat. Miss Lily adores palmeritas, the flaky twists that are known as palmiers in European bakeries and orejas in Mexican panaderias.

The night I brought her home, she snatched a Mexican sugar cookie from my hand. I knew then that I had to keep her, because she appreciated good food as much as I do. 

Miss Lily had been dumped in downtown Los Angeles. Sensing that we had something in common, she had shrieked at me from the plants where she was hiding.

Her tastes are eclectic—broccoli, asparagus tips, fresh corn kernels and other things yet to be revealed. But her passion is cookies. Crisp cookies. Nothing soft or cake-like.

Argentine palmeritas are her favorites, because they’re so small.  Those at Louis XV are barely an inch  across—just her size.

Palmeras are larger, suitable for humans. Especially the chocolate-dipped palmeras at Del Pilar, across the street from Louis XV, where I often eat breakfast. But I couldn’t take those home. There was space for only one small box in my carry-on, and I couldn’t disappoint Miss Lily. She is nice enough to share, though. I get one bite before she grabs the rest, dashing away with her prize while I clean up the crumbs. 

Palmeritas are 4 pesos for 100 grams ($1.30 for about ¼ pound) at Louis XV Bomboneria and Pasteleria, Avenida Las Heras 2068, Recoleta, Buenos Aires. Tel: 4809-0011.