Blogs - A Buenos Aires Exursion

A Buenos Aires Exursion

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Posted by: laceyb	7/1/2007
Perhaps it’s the hot and sultry summer heat, lending everything a glisten. Maybe it’s the natural high you get, eating huge slabs of juicy, grass fed Argentine beef, grilled to perfection. It could be the fallen decadence of the heartbreakingly beautiful city. Whatever it is, the rolling ease of the Buenos Aires invaded my heart and captured it like a thief in the night. I ate like a princess, and I ate like a peasant. I ate pastry upon pastry and washed it down with bubbly by the case. I sipped Mate’ like a native. Oh, and I think I saw a few tourist sights while I was at it. The Cemetery? Unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The architecture? European with a latin flair. The People? Well, you’ll just have to experience it for yourself; there’s some things even this candid writer is loathe to divulge. After a long, martini induced, sleep-filled flight, I arrived in sunny BA. My luggage did not get lost in the Bermuda triangle (my ever-present fear when traveling), and I was able to get a cab to my friend, Chris’s, apartment, where his best friend Lindsay was also visiting. After some down time, we hit up a few clubs and I got the low-down on the scene. Chris had made friends with some cool BA transplants from the states. We had plans with them in a few nights for a big Asado, which is a traditional Argentine bbq. The club scene was lively and energetic, but doesn’t get started till 2! Even for a hard-partying New Yorker, this was a bit late. Needless to say, sleeping till 1 the following afternoon is a prerequisite. We spent the remainder of each day lounging by the rooftop pool or shopping. We headed to the Recoleta Cemetery for some good, wholesome tourist fun. The vast, sprawling mausoleum held some of BA’s finest including Eva Peron. Not to mention the most stray cats I’ve ever seen. I dubbed them The Guardian’s of the Dead. Since I’ve got a soft spot for the dark side, and the place was so enchanting and mysterious; I stayed for hours upon hours taking in the moving décor and emotion inscribed upon the tombstones. The day of the Asado was upon us, so Chris and I picked up a few bottles of Chandon, and headed over. The super-hostess and ever obliging Kendall greeted us with some herbal refreshments and glasses for our bubbly. We then headed for the roof for the grilling grandeur! Pablo was the in charge of the grill, and didn’t speak a lick of English. He was more that happy to let me pose by the grill for some gastro-photos. First on the menu was grilled provolone with herbs. Then we made sandwiches of spicy grilled chorizo and fresh bread called Chori-pan. I added the gooey provolone to mine, which is apparently, blasphemous (blush!). After being joined by 20 American Rugby players with insatiable appetites, we were served an abundance of spectacularly cooked beef, rare as you want it, a whole salmon (the best I’ve ever had and I don’t even like salmon), simply stuffed with lemon, salt and pepper and more chorizo. Of course the Malbec and Fernet Branca (a strangely popular drink) were flowing, as were the conversations. Several hours later the crew broke up and went out, but Kendall and I decided to reach a higher ground and wallow in gorgeing our appetites. I spent most days visiting the local patisserie, which made the best empanada’s I’ve ever had, served fresh squeezed orange juice and amazing coffee. I sampled almost everything they made, but my favorite was the medialunas, essentially tiny crossiants. They came in plain or glazed and I usually opted for both. Another simple food we frequently indulged in was the Sandwiches De Miga: Paper-thin slices of bread, grilled or not, filled with ham, cheese, hardboiled egg, or all three. Simple and satisfying. Not to mention cheap. I wanted to thank Chris for his generosity and take him out to a big steak dinner. I chose Cabana Las Lilas, which turned out (horror!) to be a real tourist trap. Almost everyone there was American, and the portions were Texas-sized. They brought out a huge anti-pasta plate, gratis, filled with marinated mozzerella, meatballs, and Caponata to name a few. Needless to say, being Argentina, the steak melted in our mouths and our waterside seats were ideal. I attended the Malba Museum of Latin American modern art as well. It was filled with contemporary art that evoked laughter, desire, annoyance and appreciation. Despite the no picture policy, I still managed to steal a few photos. You won’t tell on me, will you? I’ll end it here, because the Tomo 1 experience of my trip deserves it’s own section. The next part of my story will focus on the spectacular meals I indulged in at Tomo 1. Never have I felt love exuded from food as I did at Tomo 1. Its like home cooked food if your mom moonlighted as one of the world’s best chefs. Ada and Ebe Concaro’s food demands description, yet defies it. At the same time, they define what gourmet food should be, and always is. It’s a conundrum of possibilities; wrapped in a tenderness only an obsessed fanatic can deliver. Ada cooks in the kitchen 6 nights a week, and never takes a vacation. It’s too much work, delegating responsibilities and relaying instructions to those under her. It’s not normal for her not to be in the kitchen. You’ll have to excuse me; I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start this story from the beginning…. After reading many glowing reviews on Tomo 1, I decided I HAD to make it a priority. Chris, Deigo and I ventured there late Saturday night, after some disappointing drinks (not a strong suit in BA). We didn’t have reservations but were warmly welcomed around 10:30. The bar was fully stocked so we happily ordered dirty Goose martinis. After glancing over the menu, I was already excited. I adored the first page of the menu, paying homage to Rogers and Hammerstein’s song, “ My Favorite Things”, declaring they wanted their menu to be like that song: “A journey into childish pleasures. Heaven-like pleasures yet so earthly”. I already loved these people. We were sent an interesting amuse of salmon gravalax on a mini brioche toast and a creamy cold tomato consume topped with herbed mousse. It was very fresh, light and herbaceous, and the salmon was perfectly cured. We also started out with buffalo bresaola, which was very elegant and dreamy. The chef also sent out scallops with red peppers and celery, a beautiful presentation. For entrées, Chris went classic, the essential filet simply dressed with red peppers, mushrooms and onions. I opted for lamb medallions stuffed with pimentos and spinach served with puffed pastry cookies. It was insanely juicy and tender. Diego surprised us all by ordering the Deer confit with fluffy mashed potatoes. It was by far the best deer I’ve ever had, not gamey at all, simply delicious! We finished with some arugula sorbet, which, true to the menu’s initial declaration, brought me back to my childhood. At first bite, I was whisked back to sunny, summer days on my lawn, munching on lemony clovers. It was really quite sentimental. I had mentioned that I was a writer to our obliging waiter, Lucas. He told me he could arrange an interview with one of the chefs, Ada. She didn’t speak any English, but her son certainly did. I didn’t want to be a bother, but Lucas assured me it wasn’t a problem. With that we paid our reasonable bill and left feeling much comforted and satisfied. The next day, I approached Tomo 1 with butterflies in my stomach. Was I really going to interview this amazing chef (who didn’t speak English) with her son, who could probably care less about me and my critique? It was a bit nerve-wracking. I took a deep breath, walked into the restaurant and hoped for the best. Federico rushed over looking a little too busy for me, but was very sympathetic. We fell into an easy conversation about the way the restaurant is run. He filled me in on the history, the details and the differences. He was basically born in the kitchen, making pasta before he could walk. He studied in Europe after high school to round out his culinary and journalistic education. The way he spoke about food was very charming, and I was immediately captivated by his passion. He and his mother put so much of themselves into the cuisine, that you can literally feel the love in every bite and word. Their restaurant is not your typical gourmet production, with a flashy chef who comes around once and a while to taste a sauce here and there. They do not want to open restaurants all over the world and they do not want a line of cookware. Ada is in the kitchen 6 nights a week, her sister Ebe is there during the days and Federico is there equally as much. They do not have an extensive mis en place in the kitchen. Almost everything is done to order. They rarely get to do anything other than matters of the restaurant. Theirs is an attitude of obsession in the kitchen, and you can taste this intensity. Things just aren’t done like this anymore. To them, it’s a commitment to the people that work there; it’s a machine that cannot be stopped. They go against the trend, prefering to always be at their restaurant. Certain technological advances and culinary schools allow for many reputable chefs to continue running their establishments from afar with a certain degree of accuracy. However, it is not up to the standards of Ada, Ebe and Federico. While it is arguable if this means their standards are better, they are just their own. Its this level of commitment and passion that makes Tomo 1 so personal. Federico and Ada laugh when I ask about all the challenges they’ve had to overcome. “Financially, morally, even sexually!” There must be a reason restaurants are risky business all over the world, and Tomo 1 was no exception. Ada draws her inspiration from everything and everywhere she’s ever eaten, and is inspired by the kitchens of the south of France. Although she has Italian blood and has a lot in common with that type of chef, she first started cooking French because it was very accessible and well codified. She adores Larousse Gastromonique and Federico calls it their bible (I went out and bought it as soon as I got home). Its clear they respect the French kitchen and hold it in very high regard. After an hour or so, Ada had to get back to the kitchen, but she invited me to stay for another meal. Of course I couldn’t refuse. Federico joined me and we chatted a little more causally about food and wine. The dish I loved most was the Chupe, a traditional Peruvian stew. It had a spicy, rich and thick tomato broth with rice, shrimp, crab, mozzerella cheese and an egg. It is exactly what you would want for a broken heart, not to mention just about any other time. Its velvety texture made me intensely happy. I also melted with the perfect crispy suckling pig, served with a sweet and tangy fruit compote with raisins, kiwi and mango. Federico and I exchanged book suggestions and he continued to praise his mother’s genius, in a very real and genuine way. I didn’t get the impression he was just putting on a show for me. I was getting the real deal, (though a few bottles of wine will do that for you). We were drinking an elegant 2004 Alto Las Hormigas Malbec, laced with violets, blackberry and currants. We winded down our meal with reglisse, an apple puff pastry topped with ginger ice cream, and a little port; muy rico! I can’t thank Federico and Ada enough for all their time, generosity and passion. I was privy to some of the best food I’ve ever had and got an intimate look at a family of creative, talented and incredibly driven gourmands. I highly recommend not only a trip to their beautiful country, but at least one meal at their warm and remarkable restaurant. Here's a few more photos from my amazing trip, Enjoy! xoxo Lacey My Roommates A view overlooking the entire Recoleta Cemetery Eva Peron's Tombstone The notorious Gaurdians of the Dead! All the great friends I made in BA A unique piece from the Malba

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