Wasabi's Sushi & Lounge - Thames 1810, Palermo / Kaizen - Guatemala 4665, Palermo

Sushi. Delivered to your door. Within half an hour. What could be more civilised? And why is this not a common thing, even a religion, on the wee isles of the United Kingdom, as it is here in Buenos Aires? 

Following in the footsteps of all the world's most cosmopolitan cities, sushi has been popular in BsAs for a while. I distinctly remember on my first visit in 2008, revelling in the knowledge that I could have delicious and copious quantities of sushi and sashimi for around £10 in a restaurant. Not any more. Now you'll be hard pushed to find anything decent for double that, but I won't bore you with the usual Argentine inflation anecdotes and witticisms*. Short of foregoing sushi completely, the best option is having it delivered, if not for the saving on drinks, tips and so on, then for the sublime convenience.

Log on to buenosairesdelivery.com and you have entered the realms of abundant choice. Several clicks later and you have selected your food establishment, the dishes you want, entered your address and contact details and are waiting with a confirmation email sitting in your inbox and hungry anticipation in your heart (and stomach).

My first experience of sushi delivery is with Wasabi's. The salmon on the niguiri has a slightly odd, almost floury texture, but the kanikama and avocado maki is perfect. Accompanied by several doses of Mad Men with my housemates - it is my initiation into the programme having, much to my housemates' dismay, never watched it before - we savour the fresh sushi. Our only complaint is the insufficiently mean blob of wasabi, but fortunately we have a supplementary hoard in our fridge. 

The next time, I have a severe sushi craving on an absurdly humid Monday where the thought of cooking is beyond inconceivable. This time we choose Kaizen who offer a 20% discount on Mondays and the salmon and avocado maki is nothing short of delicious.

When it comes to sushi I am a purist, rarely choosing anything other than fish or seafood, maybe a sliver of avocado or cucumber. For the less conservative sushi consumer the options are plentiful here in BsAs with the addition of subversive ingredients such as mango, sun-dried tomato, coconut milk or rocket. Either way, knowing that fresh sushi is readily available and wonderfully convenient makes a nice respite from the omnipresent empanadas and pizzas.

* I was however amused to recently find out that the price of Big Macs in Argentina are kept artificially low to make the Big Mac Index look favourable in an attempt to cover up the government's shameless and blatant lies about the extent of inflation (they say 8%, unofficial sources - and common sense - say 25%). Hilariously enough, if you go to any McDonalds you will find that Big Macs are not listed, you have to surreptitiously order 'off-menu' if you want one.

Parrilla Tito - secret location, Palermo

It's been quite a while since I had any significant quantity of meat when I receive Alejandro's invitation to Parrilla Tito the week before Christmas. Meat is ubiquitous in Argentina, but the quality of cooking can vary greatly, so the recommendation of a decent parrilla (restaurant serving barbecued meat) from a local is a valuable thing. To add intrigue, the place is often lovingly referred to as the 'secret parrilla', it being a well-guarded secret. Indeed my search for information online yields very few results so I have to wait for Ale's instructions on the precise location. All I know is that it's somewhere near Las Cañitas, a sub-neighbourhood of Palermo.

Devoid of any obvious sign, fronted by mirrored windows and heavy metal bars, I manage to walk past oblivious, before retracing my steps. A battered door opens onto a strip-light glow of a room, ceiling fans churning and porteños turning in their seats to see the novelty gringa step inside (it momentarily makes me think of The League of Gentleman T.V series quote "this is a local shop for local people, there's nothing for you here..."). Our table is upstairs on the terrace so I ascend the stairs out of the fluorescent glare with relief, and take a seat in the breezy, softer outdoor setting. For me, the bright strip-lighting can only be a positive indication of what is to come. A running joke-turned-truism between myself and several friends is that the brightness of a restaurant's lighting is in direct correlation with the quality of its food; the more luminous the lights, the tastier the grub. I can only imagine that the relationship is defined by a deep investment of energy in the preparation of the food meanwhile neglecting all the supposedly-trivial supplementary considerations that make up a dining experience.

Of eleven people I am the first to arrive a little before the agreed meeting time of 9 o'clock, but it's not long before I am joined by others. Half an hour later there are five or six of us, all the non-Argentines vaguely on time, all the Argentines neatly conforming to their stereotyped tardiness. By 10 o'clock Ale, grand organiser of the evening, and a few others have still not made an appearance – not that anyone is remotely surprised or concerned – so spurred on by our growing hunger, barely eroded by the glib baskets of bread on the table, we order a starter of Proveleta. This is a classic dish made of a distinctive kind of Argentine cheese, derived from Italian Provolone. It is meant to be barbecued to crispy perfection on the outside but left softly oozing in the middle, usually served as an appetiser before the asado (barbecue) proper. Parrilla Tito get the disparate consistencies just right, and washed down with red wine it makes the ideal prelude for the anticipated meat feast.

Parrilladas - table-top barbecues - are ordered, once the last straggling members of the group have arrived. Five or six different cuts of sizzling meat are served on mini grills: chorizo (pork and beef sausage), vacio (flank) bife de chorizo (sirloin), costillas de cerdo (pork chops). I lose count as I start to help myself. This is simple unadorned animal protein, what the Argentines do best, and what Parrilla Tito have mastered. Some cuts of beef could have been rarer, but that’s personal preference and the compromise of ordering a shared meal, something which is more than made up for by the innate pleasure of communal eating and having the opportunity to try un poco de todo.

The numerous bottles of wine and beer empty fast, evaporating rapidly in our large group, but the drinks keep on flowing until well past midnight. It is the Thursday before Christmas, a festive feeling permeates the air and numerous bars await us in Las Cañitas. We make an odd, but not entirely unusual group in the diverse and all-encompassing city of Buenos Aires. A mixture of expats, locals, people passing through; some know each other, others have never met, all brought together to enjoy the laid-back affable atmosphere of the beloved ‘secret parrilla’. Thank you for the invitation Ale, and for letting me in on the secret.

Croque Madame - Avenida del Libertador 1902, Recoleta

On the recommendation of a porteña friend I go in search of Croque Madame. For what could possibly be more civilised than afternoon coffee and cake when you have just paid a visit - albeit a fleeting one - to the Museo de Bellas Artes. Set back a little from the great expanse of traffic of Avenida del Libertador, I try to find a table towards the back of the cafe to escape the chugging pulsation of the cars passing by. Cited as the fourth noisiest city in the world, peace and quiet in Buenos Aires are luxuries only the wealthy can afford in their immaculate serviced penthouse apartments, shielded from the cacophony of outside by glass-fronted air-conditioned edifices. 

My well-founded fear of being sunburned draws me to a shaded table. To my left, two forty-something women, friends who have a lot of catching up to do is my guess, are about to embark on indulgent quantities of cake and milky cappuccinos. To my right, a work-and-childcare juggling mother sits at her laptop, professionally groomed and perfectly manicured. She sips the smallest, neatest espresso, while her six-year-old daughter, wearing plastic Minnie Mouse ears, propels herself around a parasol stand trying to get my, or anyone else’s, momentary attention.

Torta de Maracuyá y Café con Crema

Content in my people-watching I negotiate the menu, deciding on Café con Crema and a half serving of Torta de Maracuyá (passion fruit tart). Pre-warned by the sight of my neighbours' heaving portion sizes I am confident a half helping will suffice. As I settle down to read my book, the trickle of the fountain behind me, the sun - not too hot on this Thursday afternoon - and the steady hum of chatter are all seductively calming. The slice of tart and coffee are served, perfectly executed, by the affable bow-tied waiter. I try to make the rich yet deliciously tangy tart last, the setting calls more for delicate nibbling than greedy devouring, and manage to make a good effort.

Croque Madame is a place for treating yourself, or a friend. A place where ladies lunch, be-suited men have meetings, gallery-goers take stock; a tiny haven in an otherwise boisterous city.

El Malecón - Punta del Diablo, Uruguay

"If we go in, it will fill up straight away, we just have to be the first", I reassure Kate. We are debating whether to go into El Malecón, a beach side eatery in Punta del Diablo, a fishing-village-turned-beach-destination in Uruguay, located about one hour from the Brazilian border. It being 8pm when we tentatively set foot inside the haphazardly-formed shack there is not another diner in sight, but the promise of fried seafood and icy caipirinhas lures us in regardless. We are here for the limbo-like period between Christmas and New Year, to shake off the thickness of Buenos Aires for a few days.

The restaurants in Punta are not remarkable for the diversity of their offerings; most serve various fried seafood snacks tapas-style, barbecued fish and meat and the ubiquitous Chivito, famed national dish of Uruguay. Chivito consists of several types of meat - thinly sliced sirloin beef, ham and bacon - piled high and topped with a fried egg making for a heap of salty protein-based goodness. It is served either in a roll, making a monstrous burger, or accompanied by french fries - or for the very brave, both.

While the variety of food may not be entirely inspired in this sleepy seaside town, the ready and affordable availability of seafood is enough to make us smile with anticipation. We order a mixed platter which comprises rabas (calamari), miniaturas (fish goujons) mejillones al ajo (mussels with garlic) and buñuelas de alga, a local delicacy of ping-pong ball sized deep-fried seaweed doughnuts. Washed down with lemon caipirinhas, it makes for the perfectly untainted taste of beach holiday.

We each order a second caipirinha, then a pancake to share, spurred on by the cachaca and sugar buzz. Topped with sautéed apple slices, excessive syrup and scoops of cream, the dessert is cloyingly sweet, but we find it in ourselves to greedily finish it anyway. We are on holiday after all.

By the time we leave, the place is full of hungry surfers, sun-bathers and travellers, huddled together watching the sun go down as the year draws close to it's end.

...........................................

Happy New Year to you all, thank you for following the blog thus far. Here’s to many more wonderful culinary experiences in the coming year, mostly back on familiar ground in BA.

...........................................