Having more or less given up on my carbonara quest due to the over use of cream and under use of seasoning, the over cooking of pasta and the under cooking of bacon, I felt the need to turn my attention to something else that would provide ample protein and fat for the approaching winter hibernation months. Yes, readers in the northern hemisphere, it really is true that our season are 6 months out of line with yours, it’s not something made up to trick you. Flying down here at this time of year in your t-shirt and shorts is not recommended, unless you plan to shiver your way through your vacation and turn blue. At least pack a sweater.
And what better search than for a decent steak in this city where, despite all the advances and changes and globalization that the last decade or so has brought? It’s actually, to my mind anyway, amazing how few steakhouses overall I’ve been to over a baker’s dozen of years. Now, I’m not going to go whole hog, or, umm, cow, and start eating four steaks a week to catch up, but two, three, maybe occasionally four, per month, seems acceptable. And an easy one to back off on should I feel like I’m eating too many, and just bring them in now and again. I have, of course, my map above (click on the icon in the upper right corner to go to the full size version).
Let’s start with another in my “Bald Charlie” series – the steakhouses along Carlos Calvo (you can search here on Bald Charlie to figure out what it’s all about, and at some point, I foresee the whole series being turned into a chapter in my next book).
One enters into Antigua Tasca de Cuchilleros (basically, the Old Cutler’s Workshop, a place where someone who makes and sells cutlery, or mostly, really, knives, works), Carlos Calvo 319, San Telmo, through a lovely little tree lined patio with tables (for when the weather is nice, it wasn’t on the day of my visit). Inside are several relatively small rooms, each packed with tables. The restaurant (and associated museum, which wasn’t, for some reason, open at the time I was there) is only open Saturdays and Sundays for lunch.
I ended up in one of the smaller of the rooms, empty at the time I came in, but filled within the hour.
This is a provoleta. I know I’ve show pictures of a few over the years, either the grilled version of a slab of provolone cheese, or the liquido version, as here, where it’s placed in a hot dish an broiled. The sliced tomatoes and herbs are a nice touch on this place’s version. And even seven seconds of video is more mouthwatering than a photo, no? And, a tasty little provoleta, though in need of a bit of seasoning – a sprinkle of salt would have been nice.
I have said, along this Carlos Calvo search, that I would leave the choice of steak up to either their most recommended by people who’ve posted about it on social media, or more often, leave it up to the house. My waitress, who also seemed to be one of the owners, asserted that if push came to shove, she’d opt for the ojo de bife, or rib-eye steak.
I ordered it cooked rare, and it came out maybe medium rare, but still close enough for my tastes (and really what I was aiming for, I tend to “under order” my meat temperature because locals tend to over cook at many places, particularly old school ones. It was a huge slab of meat, coming in at at least a half kilo, and there was no way I was finishing it. It was a decent cut too – not too much fat or gristle, personally I’d have trimmed it a little more, but it wasn’t excessive. Dusted with sweet paprika and topped with a couple of adorning strips of roasted bell pepper. Completely unseasoned. Like really unseasoned. And each steak is served with a saltshaker on the side of the plate, so that’s clearly an intentional approach.
The two accompanying sauces (which you have to ask for if you want them) were a bit disappointing. The chimichurri, in front, seemed little more than probably packaged dry spices in oil, and the salsa criolla suffered from the use of an under-ripe tomato that was more white and green than red.
This place is also expensive. Well, maybe it’s expensive for one, simply because a single steak is clearly big enough for two people to eat. But their steaks run from somewhere between 300-400 pesos to 800. And their parrilladas, the mixed grills, range from I think a low of 1000 pesos for a two-person version, on up to over 2000 for a 5-6 person version. And none of the steaks come with any sides, like potatoes or salads. I guess when you’re only open two days a week, you need to gouge a bit to pay the rent, so to speak. A provoleta, a rib-eye, and a bottle of water, plus tip, ran to 700 pesos, or $28 – not bad by international standards, but for that price, you can do better in town, particularly in quality.
The Roving Ravenous Horde hasn’t been out for steaks in a couple of months, so I offered up the idea of throwing an old, traditional, parrila barrial, a neighborhood steakhouse (usually with that designation, assumed to be in a, shall we say, less well off neighborhood). Not that Boedo is a slum or anything, it’s actually quite a nice area to wander around in, but it’s mostly single family, smaller houses, and an economic base that’s generally lower middle class. And so, a trio of us met up at La Taberna de Roberto, Inclán 3802 in Boedo (they also have a second location nearby in Parque Patricios).
As with many of these sorts of places, the walls are festooned with memorabilia. It wasn’t, however, festooned with customers, the few of whom there were, sitting outside. The place had a certain stuffy or musty aroma to it, kind of like entering an old used bookstore, without the plus of searching for some hidden gem of a book.
It was actually a pretty pleasant day outside – chilly but not overly so, and the outdoor seating area shielded from the breeze by plastic flaps, so I opted for outdoors while awaiting my companions. They didn’t object, so we stayed put.
Although several different dishes on the menu, all classics of parrilla fare, called for attention, and a few have had their yay-sayers online, the parrillada, or mixed grill, seems to get the most votes. And not surprising, since it turns out to be a whopping amount of food, even for three people to share, and a mere 610 pesos, or $24 and change. It comes with an array of achurros, or the tidbits that those of us who love all the various bits of cow appreciate – some riñones (kidneys), chinchulines (intestines, or chitlins), a whole bunch of mollejas (sweetbreads), and a large chorizo (lightly cured sausage) and morcilla (blood sausage) each. Atop all of those, several strips of tira de asado (crosscut ribs), a couple of steaks, and a huge chicken breast.
With the exception of the last, all delicious and really nicely cooked – the steaks came out a nice medium rare, which is a real plus for a place like this. They did need a touch more salt, but they weren’t unseasoned like the place above, just lightly seasoned. The little grill they’re served on has coals inside, so they do tend to keep cooking, but nothing except the chicken was overcooked. Personally, I think if you’re going to put chicken into the mix, it ought to be leg/thigh quarters, which don’t dry out like the breast does. But, two of us agreed that chicken really has no place on a parrillada, though we did briefly debate whether it should be “all cow all the time” or whether a bit of pork is acceptable. I lean towards the latter, but I’m happy with all cow too.
The whole thing is served up with the classic trio of sauces here – chimichurri in both its classic steakhouse rust-red, and the green provencal version, and a salsa criolla. I thought the chimichurri was a little too vinegary, but still good, and liked the other two quite a bit.
The parrillada also came with a choice of side dish – either potatoes in one form or another, or salad. We opted for the ensalada mixta, the classic lettuce, tomato, and onion tossed salad here. Slightly unusually, it came pre-dressed – most places bring you the oil, vinegar, salt and maybe pepper to do it yourself. But it was dressed properly, and tasty.
We ended up sharing a dessert, a classic budín de pan, the local version of bread pudding, which is more of a set egg custard with a bit of bread and lots of raisins in it, accompanied by mounds of whipped cream and dulce de leche, and drowning in caramel sauce. A bit of overkill, but somehow we made it through the whole thing.
Add in a trio of espressos and the same of bottled water, and a tip, and we walked away for 930 pesos ($37) total for three people. Not a bad deal at all – if the place was in our ‘hood, I’d go back.
