A recova is a market where live poultry is sold. There was a building constructed in 1803 near to the Plaza de Mayo that was called La Recova for the former poultry market located there. It was torn down 81 years later. It wouldn’t be until more than a century later, in 1992, that La Recova de Posadas would be built under the highway where it passes over Posadas street. It’s a section of Recoleta noted for pricey hotels, the flagship, looming over the recova being The Four Seasons. It was built as a restaurant complex. I’m not sure if any of the original restaurants are still there – I think perhaps El Mirasol was among the original occupants. But I’m pretty sure most of the restaurants that are there now were not there when I moved to town.
Anyway, I thought it would be an interesting “century” Bite Marks to have lunch at some of the current tenants. There are far too many spots to check out for one post, and a couple that I have no interest in eating at, so I thought I’d focus on the Italian ones, though there are too many of those for one post too, so four of them. And, away we go!
Il Giardino (Carlos Pellegrini 1576) is the newest player in the recova, and is the same ownership as the nearby Italian joint that I recently liked quite a bit, Romagnoli. The dining room proper seems a bit small, dark and uninviting, but they have two lovely glassed in terraces that are very pleasant (and both heated and air conditioned as needed). Service is friendly and attentive, then again, there was just me and two other people the entire time I was there, though another two were on their way in as I was leaving. On a weekend afternoon.
A nice bread basket – some okay focaccia, perhaps a little too bread-like and less… focaccia-like, and some very good seeded rolls. Whipped cream cheese on the side.
I ordered up a quartet of oysters on the half shell. They don’t specify what kind they are, and the waiter didn’t know, but offered to ask the chef. He returned to tell me that the chef said they were from Criadero del Sur. Methinks the chef, or cook, whomever stated that, was mistaken, as that’s a poultry farm in southern Buenos Aires province. But going on that they were apparently aquacultured oysters, the only option I know of would be Ostras de la Patagonia, who raise the “Pacific Oyster”, a.k.a. “Japanese Oyster” or “Miyagi Oyster”, and these certainly fit the image. They’re plump and juicy, but lacking a bit in brine – I almost have the feeling that whomever opened them rinsed the brine out of the shell and put the oyster back in.
The pasta selection is short and sweet, I decided to go with the mezze maniche, or “half sleeves” (not menze maniche as the menu states, which would be “sleeve lies”). Their house tuco, a tomato sauce, was supposed to be studded with smoked pancetta, but had only a few small bits of semi-cooked bacon in it. The pasta was swimming in the amount of sauce on the plate – of which probably half was still left after eating the pasta. Fairly small portion too – had I not had the oysters first, I’d have been disappointed. Then again, the pasta may be intended as a first course before moving on to a main.
Overall, good, but no more than that. Certainly not as good as their casual spot just a few blocks away, despite the prettier setting.
La Stampa (Posadas 1011) is a two-location restaurant chain (I think there used to be more, but I’m not certain about that). I’ve been to both this one in the Recova and the other on the little plaza along Salguëro in Palermo. At the latter, I tried their pizza. Now, at this one, I didn’t stay and eat, as I was in the midst of my carbonara quest, and despite having had the place recommended by more than one person as having the best carbonara in town, it wasn’t on the menu, and I was assured by my waiter at the time that they didn’t have one, and never had. Because, here I am, figuring out what dish I’m going to order for this Bite Marks, and there’s the carbonara, exactly as originally described, and, my waiter this time assures me that it has always been there and they’re famous for it. Color me confused, but I’m ordering the pasta.
Anything, really, for a distraction, as I’ve been seated in a back corner adjacent to both the waiter station to one side, and a trio of Argentine soccer fans to the other, all three of whom are watching videos on their respective phones of various plays from the match, at high volume, and accompanied by loud exclamations of dismay or glee. I am also informed that despite the entire restaurant basically being empty, that this is the only table available. If I wasn’t engaged in a quest, I’d have walked out.
Cheap on the bread basket – torn off pieces of mignon, the ubiquitous cotton-ball bread of every casual diner in the city, a couple of pieces grilled and topped with some chopped tomatoes. All of it a little stale.
My waiter also insists that I must try their fried mozzarella. His reasons seem vague, and I have no doubt that the chef has way too many of them prepared and not enough customer to serve them to, and has asked the waitstaff to push them. It’s actually pretty damned good. A decent sized block of flavorful, gooey mozzarella, a really well seasoned breadrumb coating, perfectly fried, and a tangy tomato sauce. Wouldn’t have been my pick of appetizers, but I’m not unhappy that I got it.
And, the carbonara. Using a somewhat unusual pasta, scialatelli, from far southern Italy in Campagna, Calabria, and Basilicata, it’s basically squared off spaghettoni, like spaghetti alla chitarra, but short – generally only about three inches long. It’s cooked perfectly. The sauce does not involve cream, but I think it does involve butter. On the other hand, it’s just not very well made – there’s some bits of smoked bacon; and there are chopped up bits of scrambled egg, rather than incorporating it into an emulsification; the cheese is just grated over the top; and there’s no cracked pepper, though some is provided for me on request. In short, it’s literally nothing more than buttered noodles tossed with some bacon and scrambled eggs. This, does not a carbonara make. It should have remained off the menu.
Between the service, atmosphere, and food, I wouldn’t bother to return.
Fechoría (Posadas 1053) is another fairly new spot, the name translating to mean a misdeed, crime, or bit of villainy, having taken over the space vacated by the execrable Sorrento. The decor on the front window looks a bit like old mafia photos of some sort. An odd choice for a restaurant name, but whatever. Big, spacious room, nicely appointed. I swear the big guy in blue and the woman on the other side of him were regular customers back in my days at Felidia. I was tempted to ask, and they kept glancing at me too. But, I didn’t. If they weren’t, it would have been odd, I guess, I don’t know….
Really nice bread basket, with strips of an excellent flatbread, and decent, slightly sweet rolls. But the best was the addictive chopped liver served on the side. I ate through all of that with the flatbread strips.
My first choice of appetizer, fresh oysters on the half shell, which I thought I might compare to the ones above, were not available – though had they been, one nice plus here is that they’re priced by the piece, so you can order as few or as many as you want. My second choice were the veal stuffed olives, olivas ascolanas, one of my longtime favorite dishes. These were excellent.
And I zeroed in immediately on their risotto alla antigua, with sweetbreads and bone marrow. Now, I rarely have high hopes for risottos here, they’re almost never made right. On the plus side, this was one of the best made risottos I’ve had – perfectly textured, well seasoned, and creamy, studded with bits of carrot and other vegetables. On the minus side, rather than incorporate bone marrow and sweetbreads into the dish, it’s simply served with a piece of a sauteed sweetbread (tasty, cooked right), and a thin piece of ossobuco which may at one time in its life have had some marrow inside the bone, but that had slipped away in the cooking process and so all I had was a hollow bone with some gristly meat clinging to it. I love the idea, and may work on my own version, but the execution, despite the risotto itself, fell well short of being a dish I’d order again.
All in all, neither a crime nor villainy observed.
Figata (“Cool”) (Posadas 1052) turns out to be a “high-end Italian dining concept from the owners of the Il Gatto trattoria chain”, is more or less what my waiter told me at the end of the meal. It came up because when my credit card was processed, it was paid to “Il Gatto Trattorias”, so I asked. I’m glad that I didn’t know that upfront – my experiences with Il Gatto have been mediocre, and I’d have probably opted not to enter had I known. A quiet day, post-Xmas, with just a quintet of local businessmen having lunch when I entered, and twice, individuals came in to pick up takeout orders.
Excellent little breadbasket, with clearly housemade breadsticks, a cheesy flatbread, rolls, and my favorite, some sort of olive oil and saffron infused foccacia-ish bread that I would pay to have the recipe for. The herbed cream cheese was good, the guacamole… guacamole???… in an Italian restaurant?… was little more than a puree of avocado with some lemon juice in it.
An easy selection when I saw it on the menu – artichoke heart gratin. Though, perhaps, had I thought it through, given my other choice of dish, which is more or less topped with the same sauce and cheeses, I might have ordered something else. Still, really good artichoke hearts (preserved, not fresh) in a vibrant tomato sauce, with plenty of mozzarella and parmesan. It all needed a decent dusting of salt, but, unlike my experiences at Il Gatto, both salt and pepper, and olive oil, are placed on every table.
I was between trying their carbonara and a lasagna. My waiter opined that the latter would be far more satisfying, good as the carbonara might be. It also costs about 50% more, but I’m sure that had nothing to do with his recommendation. And, despite looking a mess on the plate, it’s not bad. Four layers of pasta, with a reduced ground meat bolognese in two of the layers, and tomato sauce in the third. There’s also that ubiquitous Argentine insistence on sticking in a slice or two of lunchmeat ham. Obviously, lots of cheese and sauce all over it. Again, it needed salt, and a bit of pepper, but overall, pretty good. On both plates, a minor note – why stick the basil leaves on the plate before you stick it under the broiler to brown the dish? They just turn into burnt leafage.
I like the room overall. Another note, and one that affects many a restaurant here. The music they’re piping in comes from a computer playlist, and, unfortnately, the same computer (though there are several around the room) that the manager seemed to be doing work on. So every time a Windows bloop or bleep went off, it went jarring through the airspace. Service was charming, professional, and efficient. Then again, they only had two tables to deal with. And I have to say, it was marred at the end when the waiter presented the bill, and made a point of telling me that his tip was not included on the bill, and I should know that, clearly as a tourist or something. He didn’t do the same with the table of businessmen next to me, who got their bill at the same time.
The food – good. Certainly way above and beyond that served by Il Gatto, though the menus do have some overlaps of their classic house dishes, particularly their much featured in both fettuccine with prawns and pink sauce. Though, still, like the former spot, they desperately need to learn to use salt in their cooking. Still, I’d go back, perhaps to try that carbonara, just in the interests of completeness, you know?
And this, I believe, will not only close us out of the 100th Bite Marks, but also close out the year 2022. See you again after the first!
Thank you for these reviews and to a “century” more!
You’re welcome! Thanks for being a long time reader!