You know the drill by now. This time around we head out for Lebanese shawarma, Peruvian and Sichuan chicken, and a little pastry. We have highs and lows and in-betweens, all wrapped up in a mere four spots. Where to start?

 

Many of my discoveries come from just walking around. I try to get in my 10,000 steps every day, in one direction or barrio or another. Walking down Uruguay in San Nicolás, I’d spotted this shawarma stand at #707, Don Shawarma. I put it on my map and one day, again passing by, decided to stop in and try it. It’s basically just a take-out spot for shawarma and a few Lebanese pastries, though they have set up a couple of folding tables for two out front. Shawarmas are offered in beef, chicken, or mixed, I went with the first (1900 pesos with a beverage). I like the presentation – quite unexpected for a space that’s primarily just takeout. A generous portion of meat, well seasoned and with lovely bits of char on it from the rotisserie. A decent amount of lettuce, tomato, and onion as well. The crowing jewel, however, is the bowl of toum, the classic garlic emulsion of Lebanese style shawarma. It’s perfectly made and there’s enough of it to drown the shawarma should you so desire. I finished both the wrap and the sauce, thanked the Don himself and headed out. Big thumbs up for this one.

 

Local foodies and TV show aficionados know Damián Betular from Masterchef Argentina. As the resident pastry chef judge… queen… he’s a recognizable brand. And, capitalizing on that, he’s opened up a “café” in Villa DeVoto, Betular Pâtisserie. I put the term in quotes, because this is unlike any café of the moniker. It’s a gleaming, soaring, very pink, somewhat industrial feeling space that stretches long and thin at Mercedes 3900, corner of Asunción. It has a garden area to sit. It has strange, pink and white and red molded sidewalk tables and chairs to sit at. It has a florist hawking exquisite floral arrangements. It has eye-catching display cases of pastries (not sure why I didn’t grab a photo of all that, I think I was just too overwhelmed, mostly by the pink). The good – amazing pastry. This raspberry and pistachio tart was the sort of pastry that most pastry shops here only dream of producing. And, it damned well better be at 1800 pesos. The bad – attitude. This is the sort of attitude that the Sex & The City gals encountered trying to get into fancy restaurants or clubs without a reservation. Nose in the air, we are better than you, type attitude. I ordered an espresso to go with my pastry, and received an americano. Now here, that’s an espresso which has been diluted down with hot water and milk to a full coffee cup size. When I noted that wasn’t what I ordered, instead of, “oops, made the wrong one, let me make you an espresso right now”, I got “you’re an American, obviously you people don’t drink espresso, you made a mistake with what you ordered”. Well fuck you very much, I’ve been drinking espresso since before you were born, make me what I ordered. She did, in the bottom of full size coffee cup. Despite the fact that they had espresso cups. In fact, why, at a place this expensive (510 pesos for the espresso), are you serving me my coffee in a paper cup?

 

Another one noted while walking around, pinned on the map, and headed to one day while I was over in Monserrat. I’m always on the lookout for good Chinese food. Now, this place, from the outside, looked like a complete, rundown, hole-in-the-wall. But I’d looked it up online and numerous reviewers, including Chinese ones, opined that this place has some of the most authentic Chinese food in the city, particularly Sichuan dishes. When I entered Un Cuenco Chino, Bartolomé Mitre 1189, the hole-in-the-wall vibe was reinforced. And the reviews were called into question by a short, simple menu of different fried rices and sauteed noodle dishes, nothing beyond what a very ordinary takeout spot would serve here. But I’ve been to enough of these out of the way spots to ask – can I see the real menu, the one for Chinese customers. The answer was yes, the issue was, it’s all in Chinese. Some of which is translatable with Google Translate and its camera function, but much of that doesn’t really tell me what the dishes are. So I asked if they had la zi ji, my litmus test Sichuan Peppercorn Chicken, and they did. In short order, I had a decent sized plate of sizzling bits of dark meat chicken on the bone, the classic way it’s served, with tons of dried chilies and sichuan peppercorns and green onions. A little oilier than I tend to like, they could have drained it a bit first before dumping it on the plate, but oh so good. And, apparently an impetus for the staff, as they brought out a huge platter of the same that they sat there sharing for their own lunch.

Now to take some time to translate the menu and figure out what else they have!

 

Much hype has recently flooded various social media about this new place that specializes in Peruvian chicken – particularly pollo a las brasas, basically a glazed, spiced, rotisserie chicken; and pollo broaster, one of the trio of classic fried chickens from Peru. The place, Tori Chipchi, is located on Av. Corrientes at 3158, kitty-corner from the Abasto shopping mall. Let me start with the name… because, well, it’s kind of weird. Tori is the Japanese word for bird – I’m assuming Japanese both because of the nikkei cooking style, and the Japanese styling of the font in the name, plus, as best I know, it doesn’t mean anything in another language related to Peruvian cooking. Chipchi is where it gets a little odd – in Quechua, the main indigenous language of Peru, it means “eyelid”. The claim is that it means chicken, though that would be, as I understand it, in Mapuche, an indigenous language of western Argentina. So either the name means Bird Chicken or Bird Eyelid, and mixes two languages. Weird, as I said.

The place is huge. It’s two stories and there are a lot of tables. I’d guess it seats well over a hundred people, and I’ve been there twice, plus walked by it numerous times, and it always seems pretty full up. Both times I visited, I had to wait a few minutes for a table – not because they were occupied, but, well, I don’t know why. Both times I was seated in the back corner, by a door leading to the prep and dishwashing kitchen, as well as the wait-station, where I was treated to regular banging in and out of the door by busboys and prep cooks, often leaving the door open. For a few moments, one visit, I got to enjoy a huge plastic bin of raw chicken just left at table side by one of the prep cooks who’d forgotten something and went back inside, only to come out and continue moving the bin to the open rotisserie kitchen which is along the wall in the main dining room. More than once, one or another of them seemed to feel the need to thump on the corner of my table with their hand as they passed by, for no apparent reason.

Let’s get to the food. On two visits, I tried both of their primary reasons for existing. The first, the broaster chicken, available in either a quarter, half, or whole chicken, is excellent. It really is. It’s not the best pollo a las brasas I’ve had, either here or elsewhere, but I’d happily eat it again (1680 pesos if I remember right). The fries accompanying are decent, the salad is a bit meager. It’s served up with mayo for the fries, salad dressing for the salad, and “hot sauce” for the chicken, which was only vaguely spicy. The second visit, I went for the pollo broaster, which they only offer in “buckets”, though no buckets are to be found, simply a choice of four or eight pieces (of their choosing) on a plate (2800 pesos for the four piece). A little much for one, though I ate three of the four pieces. A huge amount of fries, far more than double what was on the earlier serving for one, and the same for the salad. It comes with a second hot sauce that was actually spicy (along with the mild one from the previous visit). I’m less enamored with this fried chicken than the rotisserie one. It’s fine, but I found the crust a bit too thick and while crispy on the outside, a bit chewy inside. I’d happily go back for the pollo a las brasas, but I’m never sitting in that corner again – I’ll walk out before taking that table.