Where's the Argentine Beef.

Although I've some complaints, my beef (pardon that) is largely about expectations unmet and is overridden by the resolute intrigue of Buenos Aires.

Beef seems to be the central preoccupation of this city. They eat it and wear it and want us to do the same.

Everyone has a strong opinion about which steak house is good and why all the others are inferior. We sidestepped the obvious mistake: the famous and over-priced Las Lilas on the waterfront in Porto Madera. We went with the recommendation of an acquaintance and found La Cabrera in the Palermo Viejo neighborhood.



As is the case with most of the popular places like La Cabrera, you need to get there early (i.e. before 10PM for dinner) unless you want to wait for your table, a sentence mollified by the offering of free champagne by La Cabrera's solicitous staff. Once seated, we were happy with the rambunctious feel of the room.





A salad of palm hearts and avocado was delightful, but the "dressing" was to be strictly avoided. It was a swirl of mayonnaise and ketchup. Bleech.



As we had been told, La Cabrera heaped upon us many little ramekins of stuff meant to enhance the steak. Our waiter nixed the sirloin we selected and suggested the rib eye. Taking note of our girleen figures, he also wisely suggested we split a single order. We began to sample the various fixins and were surprised to find that the ricotta, the liver pate, the potato concoctions, the relishes and even the garlic itself were utterly devoid of character. What would become clear to us after having eaten in several restaurants (all highly recommended by various locals and friends) is the fact that Argentines do not make spicy food. In fact, they strongly lean on two spices that I have encountered nowhere else in the world: Flavoroff and Blandon. Everything we eat seems to have been sprayed with Flavoroff and sauteed in Blandon. (Yesterday, at an acclaimed Italian place, I had the pizza a quattro formaggi, made forgettable by what must have been a lacquer of 4X-strength Flavoroff to stand up to the presence of four cheeses.) Out of all the little dishes, only the stewed pears and apples were of interest. The most frightening was the tomato relish steeped in what had to have been gasoline.



The steaks were, however, savory on their own. Grisly, as is the Argentine preference, but delectable and nicely encrusted in cracked pepper. If you are of the sort who appreciates eye-popping volume at the groaning board, this is the place for you. And the breads were to die. And, to either add a star to this review or to subtract a raspberry, know that the bill came to less than twenty bucks each, tip included.



I would also recommend the two other restaurants we have attended. Amici Miei, in Plaza La Dorrego, San Telmo, for its ambiance (Select the terrace in the rear), and Broccolino, just north of the Micro Centro (have the ice cream for dessert but skip the arrabiata sauce on your pasta for it is rendered unarrabiated by a liberal dose of Flavoroff.)

Then, there is the beef on the hoof, or off it, as in shopping for leather goods. C was enthralled by the wonderful 28 Sport shop.



They make either exactly one pair of shoes in a particular style (if you like it, you better hope it's your size) or limited runs of other styles (one pair in each of twelve sizes.) They look to vintage German soccer shoes of the 1950s as their inspiration. The leather is supple and the craftsmanship superb. The colors made me want to vote for Ike.



C selected a smart pair.




The third steaky category has to do with the Argentine men themselves and how these steer desport themselves when corraled in nighttime places such as Tom's and Zoom. Later, boys. Work up an appetite.

PS: In my first post, I spoke about the fact that this city is filthy. It appears that we had arrived just before trash pick-up day. The streets are now cleaner in our neighborhood, but there is a strong disregard for the picking up of dog poop on the sidewalks, and those dogs do not wait for the weekly arrival of the garbage truck. The city budget for basics is obviously strained, but the citizens augment the urban distress with their common carelessness. In New York, folks generally pick up their shit.

Sound familiar?

C and I, preparing for our upcoming vacation in Buenos Aires, have been reading guidebooks including the Buenos Aires City Guide of the Lonely Planet series in which you will find this startling bit of history:

As an economic crisis deepened into a recession, voters turned to the mayor of Buenos Aires, Fernando de la Rua, and elected him president in 1999. He was faced with the need to cut public spending and hike taxes during the recession.

The economy stagnated further, investors panicked, the bond market teetered on the brink of oblivion and the country seemed unable to service its increasingly heavy international debt. Cavallo was brought back in as the Economy Minister, and in January 2001, rather than declaring a debt default, he sought more than US$20 million more in loans from the IMF.

Argentina had been living on credit and it could no longer sustain its lifestyle. The facade of a successful economy had been ripped away, and the indebted weak inner workings were exposed. As the storm clouds gathered, there was a run on the banks. Between July and November, Argentines withdrew about US$20 billion from the banks, hiding it under their mattresses or sending it abroad. In a last ditch effort to keep money in the country, the government imposed a limit of US$1000 a month on bank withdrawals. Called the "corralito" (little corral), the strategy crushed many informal sectors of the economy that function on cash (taxis, food markets), and rioters and looters took to the streets. As the government tried to hoard the remaining hard currency, all bank savings were converted to pesos and any remaining trust in the government was broken. Middle class protestors joined the fray in a series of pot-and-pan banging protests, and both Cavallo and then de la Rua resigned.

Two new presidents came and went in the same week, and the world's greatest default on public debt was declared.

The peso devalued rapidly and people's savings were reduced to a fraction of their earlier value. In January 2002, the banks were only open for a total of six days and confidence in the government was non-existent. The economy ceased to function: cash became scarce, imports stopped and demand for non-essential items flat-lined. More than half of the fiercely proud Argentine people found themselves below the national poverty line: the once comfortable middle class woke up in the lower classes and the former lower classes were plunged into destitution. Business people ate in soup kitchens and homelessness became rampant.

This story has a happy ending, with Argentina eventually settling its US$9.5 billion international debt in 2006. Still, inflation went crazy. The only thing that saved Argentina was international tourism.

Is it wrong to fear that New York City might be plunged into rioting and looting if nothing is done to stop the dominoes from falling in our current crisis?