Although it’s been a month, almost, since 2012 began, let me tell you how seriously I take these new beginnings. It’s not just about the gorging — although for most of my 34 years the aim has primarily been that — but 2011 started in the most appalling way possible, that my new year needed a complete rethink.

And this wasn’t just about poor little me, but also applied to my December 31 partners in crime. January 2011 turned out to be so very rubbish that we decided to hijack other cultures’ festivities and start over again.

Yes, that’s right, the bad behaviour came courtesy of a man, two men in fact, and we felt so slighted that the only way out of this horrible, man-induced slump, was to begin the year afresh in February.

The Year of the Rabbit began in the nick of time and a slap-up meal in China Town meant we could release those horrible memories, and resign those sketch books of how to slowly and painfully torture said men to death.

But despite our best intentions, the rest of 2011 continued to be bumpy with new-year gang members suffering various other misfortunes — blood clots followed by weeks in hospital, relatives dying, appalling journeys — and it turned out that Chinese New Year simply wasn’t sufficient.

We therefore added into our calendar the end of the fiscal year, Jewish New Year and a few other random ones which I can’t quite remember, no insult intended.

But with 2012 comes the Year of the Dragon, the most fortuitous sign in the Chinese zodiac — so much so that a baby boom is predicted over the coming 12 months in China — which kicked off on Monday. Needless to say, we embraced the essence of the east, albeit in Almagro, with Marco whipping up an oriental storm below the thunder clouds.

In Almagro’s China Town, however, some bright spark had even snapped up a bundle of fortune cookies, and there were enough for everyone to crack open two. I discarded the lesser of two evils, opting for some “Take it calmly” advice.

So if you haven’t donned red, or bought a dragon fruit-flavour water — which I did by complete accident on that very Monday and am still really hoping it means “something” — or learned how to write “happy year of the dragon” in whichever characters you can fathom, there is still time to put things right, if only by chowing done some chow mein.

First, I thought I’d try out what one friend has called his favourite Chinese restaurant in the city — and it isn’t in the Barrio Chino. Barrio Norte’s Shi Yuan, which has made it Vidal Buzzi’s rather discerning list of must-go to eateries, is not open terribly late, as I found out to my detriment in the run-up to New Year (I got there at 12.30am, granted), but when you get there, cross the bridge complete with koi carp swimming below and opt for a sexy booth. Also ensure you get the more ample carta complete with pictures for maximum menu-age, and the very organised must simply order a whole crispy duck a day in advance.

Although you could try and get change from 100 pesos with careful selection, you might leave hungry and this wasn’t the name of the game on Wednesday night. After Marco’s culinary flirtation, it was time for the real deal and so we ordered steamed pork dumplings, vegetable chow mein, hot ‘n sour soup with pork and tofu, and a load of crispy, spicy pork.

This may sound like a lot of pork for two damsels, but the waiter, who assured us everything was excellent when asked for his favourite dish, said the latter dish was only for one person. Wrong. There was ample for two, especially with the accompanying noodles which were practically doused in button-style mushrooms and as fresh as a daisy. Total bill with a beer and tip? Just 140 pesos.

‘FIRE MEAT’
Heading north to China Town for Thursday lunch, I was beginning to feel like a pork dumpling myself. But in the name of research and welcoming back Trev from terrorizing the garotas in Brazil, a veritable feast awaited at BBQ Town. A restaurant recommended by both Trev and Pick Up The Fork, you simply must go famished to take advantage of the extensive Korean-Chinese fusion barbecue, which you sizzle up, from the middle of your table, in a foody’s attempt at group bonding.

Late as usual, a toothy fish was grimacing at me when I rushed in, but so, excitingly, were some oysters on steroids, so large and juicy they were. I leapt straight in.

For 80 pesos, the assortment of little bowls akin to Korean tapas is boggling, and can range between 25 and 35 vegetarian, meat and seafood dishes. From kimchi (fermented vegetables), and more pork dumplings (I demanded an encore, as you can repeat your faves), salads, algae, crêpes, eggy concoctions slathered in hot sauce, even sugar-speckled sweet potato, and hot ‘n spicy, soup, the excitement truly begins when the bulgogi, or raw meat and seafood — marinated beef, pork, octopus and more steroid-infused prawns — appear, accessorized with tongs and scissors. Let the brazier sizzling begin.

Although a fun diagram pasted to the wall could help explain, first, how to cook bulgogi, which was ranked the world’s 23rd tastiest dish by CNN Go last year — fish kick off proceedings, so as not to ruin the grill (whoops) — and second, how to put together a pork belly lettuce wrap, we had a riot snipping up bacony bits to shove into the green leaves once they were sufficiently sizzled to our liking.

If only I could read Korean (and arrived on time), I would have stood a greater chance of knowing what I was eating. But sometimes, that’s half the fun.

Shi Yuan
Tagle 2531, Barrio Norte,
Tel: 4804-0607

BBQ Town
Juramento 1656, Belgrano
Tel: 4783-2780

Photo courtesy of Pick Up The Fork

Do you remember visiting Argentina for the first time?
It was for work in June 2010 and I came here with my line manager. I had been living in London for several years and it was actually my first time in South America. I also went to Santiago as I’m in charge of the southern cone countries, which means Chile, Uruguay, Paraguay, Argentina and Bolivia.
Over those next few months, until January 2011, I spent a few weeks in Montevideo, then Buenos Aires, then back in London. It was quite difficult as I have a family and all that travelling is not only time-consuming but body-consuming.

Did you have a choice, moving to Argentina?
Yes, I did. Luckily for us! The choice was between the Far East and the Far West, between Singapore and Argentina. I believe it was the most difficult decision of my professional life. But I think I made the right decision, in terms of doing the job and also in terms of the experience we’ve been living.
With regard to the position, it was the first time I had been assigned a general manager’s role, and from a personal point of view it is much easier for an Italian, and in particular an Italian from the south, to be accustomed to certain issues that you can come across in South America.
I didn’t come via southern Italy, however, my route was Italy, London, then South America. Good luck! I had to change things when I moved to London, then coming back to my typical Latin culture was a challenge.
In the beginning it was tough in Buenos Aires, as it is easier to get used to things when they work, so it is more difficult to renounce that. If I came from England, like you for example, I think it would be really difficult to jump into this world — and the different cultures.

Did you have a chance to return?
My wife and I were sent here for a few weeks to check things out so we had the chance to choose where to move to. We needed to find a nursery — one of my children was born in London while the other was born in Buenos Aires — after that everything was easier.

Did you receive any help from the company?
In the UK one doesn’t need any assistance really and maybe it’s because I’m also European. Perhaps it would have been different if I were Japanese. But here help was necessary plus it was the first time we had moved as a family. My wife was seven months’ pregnant and my eldest child was a year and a bit. We needed a hospital close to our home, for example.
Living here is not as bad as they tend to describe it, but we know to pay attention for sure. When we lived in London we knew there were neighbourhoods we shouldn’t go to, whereas being in Recoleta is not the same as being in Boulogne. But the reality is one needs to pay much more attention.

Where do you live?
In Palermo, and I commute to Boulogne by car — a wise decision as I travel against the traffic.
There are lots of things to do within the city with our kids but not much outside of it. So we do regular things like going to the theatre, chilling out with friends.

Has it been easy to meet people?
Absolutely, and much easier than in London. It is easier to get on with people as they are much warmer here regardless of the social level. You need to pay attention, just like in southern Italy, as the more open people are the more attention you may need to pay.
But as my son goes to nursery, it is much easier for the mama to get to know all the other mums.

What’s been the hardest thing to adapt to coming from London?
Public services, for example. I used to work in Uxbridge and live in Chiswick, which are both in West London, so I would take the Tube but here I need to drive as I live in Capital Federal but work in Boulogne.
I really miss the lack of bureaucracy and transparency as it was much easier to run a business as the rules are different. It is more challenging here. When you take the decision to live somewhere different, though, it’s important to take away a good experience and I’m sure there will be things we miss from here.

With regard to the business, do you have problems importing?
Who doesn’t have problems importing! But we have been negotiating with the government over this. So far we have done quite well. What’s important is to consider the kind of position you want to assume in the market. If you want to make a profit then forget about Argentina. But if you can show you want to stay here then you might have the chance to work through these issues, touch wood.

Did you already speak Spanish?
No but I started my one-to-one classes in London. I remember I went to a meeting in Glasgow, and it was one of my first visits. I have never been to a meeting where I have sat there for two hours and not understood anything at all. I couldn‘t keep asking them to repeat something and it was really quite tough. And then my next meeting was in Dublin.
When I moved here and I couldn’t make myself understood, I would speak English in my funny Italian accent. But after a few months, I realized if I started to talk in Sicilian, Argentines could understand me better. But when you don’t know a language or the culture very well, that it is tough.

What three Italian characteristics define Argentines?
Most of the time we look for the shortest way to do something. We are also used to flexibility and we are friendly, too.

What’s been the biggest surprise?
I thought Argentina would be similar but not so similar, in the way we behave in southern Italy, maybe 20 years ago.
Also how Argentines exaggerate something — they don’t just like something but they “love” it. In London they would call someone a friend but here he is a “brother”. Actually I’d prefer those exaggerations fell somewhere in the middle!

What do you think about Argentine pizza?
Maybe the Argentines should leave the room! Okay, it’s not mozzarrella, for sure. It’s not the real pizza, it‘s the real pasta… apart from the cheese, it’s about the weight of the ingredients. All you need is tomato, olive oil, real mozzarrella and that’s it.
I usually go to La Apasionada. They make a nice pizza, and although they don’t use the ingredients I would like, it’s better than many other chains in Buenos Aires.
But it brings us back to the subject of importing. If they could import the real ingredients…

If you were President, what changes would you make?
It comes back again to the issue of imports. Being so closed means that if in the future, you want to support local companies in order to attack foreign markets, then it could be an issue. Brazil, for example, is a lot more open than Argentina.

Where would you like to move next?
I’m fascinated by several countries and Brazil is one of them. I think that living in a part of the world where it takes you the first four and a half years to understand what’s going on may be a bit too much!

Finding the authentic coffee bean
Despite a small onslaught from a particular coffee house perking up delapidated buildings around the city to sell their wares in takeaway paper cups — and I have a particular former antiques store on Plaza Dorrego in San Telmo in mind with regard to takeovers I disapprove of — one attraction for visitors which is akin to breathing for many porteños, is the ritual of going to a café for an espresso with a dash of milk.
The coffee culture remains vibrant in Buenos Aires, if not around the country, despite some cafés, such as the venerable Café Richmond which, up until August 2011, used to nestle among the clothing stores on bustling Florida street, having to give a green light to sports shops and the like.
(That’s not to say that those career waiters from the Richmond didn’t give up without a fight last year. Oh no. They took over the establishment which opened its doors in 1917, sit-in style, although sadly to no avail).
Due to the prominent Italian heritage, it is of little surprise that Argentina’s coffee culture is so strong, and Silvio Zaccareo, managing director for Lavazza Argentina explains its prominenence.
He says: “In the region, and I can tell you from Alaska to Patagonia, there isn‘t any other place in the Americas where there is such an authentic espresso culture. This is the only place where you can find an authentic bar offering pastries, maybe the coffee is served with more milk than we are used to in Italy, and also an authentic capuccino. It doesn‘t, however, mean that the coffee will be good.
“In Chile the coffee culture is booming, as it is in Brazil. I would actually compare Chile’s market with the UK as coffee culture did not exist there 15 years ago — it was unusual to find a coffee bar in London but now they are everywhere. But in Italy coffee is part of our culture, and in Argentina too.
“Although I tend to drink our own brand, in terms of local coffee they could do better, because in terms of an espresso, I was expecting something more intense. I think it is down to the freshness of the beans, the machines used and how clean they are, the capability of the barista… there are a lot of issues involved in making coffee.”
Being Italian and working for a global coffee brand obviously means Zaccareo’s standards are, not surprisingly, exacting, and he doesn’t have a preference as yet.
“I haven’t found a bar that I really like in Buenos Aires, a place that I can recommend, for an espresso,” he says.

Where did Rich and Vero go for their first dinner back after three weeks in the UK last Saturday? I think you know where I’m going with this…

And which is the only restaurant in Buenos Aires that my mother continues to rave on, harp on and drool over, three years after she went to it? That’s right. La Cabrera.

We also all know that (apparently) film director Francis Ford Coppola (allegedly) camps out there when he’s in town (despite owning a house just a few blocks away).

So what’s the bloody fuss about apart from the great bloody steaks? (There’s a lot of questions going on today, for which I apologise.)

It’s got fabulous bloody great bloody steaks, is what La Cabrera has, and so popular it is, that there are in fact two restaurants, and now a pasta restaurant, Marcelina y García, next door to the original haunt on the corner.

The steaks, rib-eye, sirloin, whatever, are large enough to share. Swept out on a wooden dish by boina-wearing waiters, Cabrera steaks are steaming hot, seared so perfectly you’ll need to take a picture, and cooked exactly how a foreigner wants them… bloody.

What is also attractive is the fact there is no real need to order any sides, delicious though the sweetbreads and creamy spinach in its own miniature iron pot are. A dozen little sides are whisked out on a single wooden tray, and diners can choose from roasted garlic, pickles, mustard mash, pumpkin mash, sundried tomatoes, green beans, any number of mini delicacies which give the pallet a splendid opportunity to dip into lots of flavours.

But. And there is a but. The largest drawback, in January 2012, is the price. Any 400-gram steak is now, upwards of 100 pesos. No change from a purple bill there, that’s right. Even though the beef is for sharing, dinner at La Cabrera is not a cheap experience. Lunch, however, is rather better value with the set menu this past week costing 79 pesos. Who knows next week. Ideal for laid-back afternoons when the wine can go with the flow.

The second “but” is all about the fact that there is a way round all this costliness. I like to think of myself as the Guillermo Moreno of dining out, rather more attractive than our beloved domestic trade secretary (although I’m certain the lady in his life would disagree), but definitely a watchdog in a similar vein, keeping an eye out for an eating deal.

The but is that you can dine at La Cabrera – and get change from 100 pesos!

With my friend known as Pick Up The Fork in certain Internet circles, we wanted to nail this myth that had been floating about. We’d both heard that one could dine there with a 50 percent discount at the happy hour feast from 5pm to 8pm. We could treat it as a late lunch.

We rocked up one Friday at 7.30pm, having fasted all day in preparation for this extravaganza of a feast. We were essentially excited about the discount, in fact trying to get change from 100 pesos hadn’t even crossed our minds, given that we were three hungry mouths in need of a feed. We simply wanted a piece of the 50 percent discount action.

“We’re full,” came the reply from the lady in charge of the list. “You can book a table for later.”
Hearts falling, tummies rumbling, we put our heads together. Yes, we’d waited so long that it wouldn’t hurt to wait a bit longer. But dinner would be discount-free.

To cut a long story short, we ate well, ordered too much beef in our hungry haste, and spent 150 pesos each. It hurt, but we were full.

The main topic of conversation that night was: how did we misjudge this situation so badly? Wasn’t happy hour with a discount from 5pm to 8pm? After turning up the second time, two weeks later, at 4.45pm, it turned out that the wretched happy hour is from 7pm to 8pm, it does indeed last one hour, and there is definitely a discount. Again, we pounded the streets of Palermo, necked a margarita at the La fábrica del taco, and headed back just before the o’clock. Five minutes later — and we were in!

Although you literally have 60 minutes to eat, drink and leave, Pick Up The Fork and I shared: a bottle of Malbec (the cheapest on the menu) and 400 grams of ojo de bife steak. We had nine sides, two of which were repeated (PUTF ate all the miniature onions), and one was rather larger, and some kind of eggy, red pepper concoction which was perfectly delicious.

What made this meal, because being hurried through anything is never fun, was the creamy mustard sauce which we slathered over everything. We almost had a rumble over who would lick the jug.

So the deal is this. Get there at 7pm. Be aware of whether the deal is going on at La Cabrera (on the corner) or La Cab North. You will be pushed out after 60 minutes. But you are eating at one of the top-four steak houses in the city offering the best beef in the world.

And if you order wisely — ojo de bife, cheapest plonk — you will get change from 100 pesos. We paid a not very grand 94 pesos, getting back six pesos worth of change. And we had a perfectly cooked steak at La Cabrera.

La Cabrera
Cabrera 5099, Palermo
4831-7002

Photo by Pick Up The Fork.

When did you first come to Argentina?
That was well before I moved here. It was 1993 and I was in the textile business. My first day here was a Sunday and I spent the entire day in Recoleta cemetery. Because of my first three trips here, in ’93 and ’94, I thought Recoleta was Buenos Aires.
I was here for three days at a time on business so I went to Once neighbourhood, made some stops, but as I didn’t have the right contacts to make any sales and I didn’t have an agent to introduce me to wholesalers, I gave it a couple of shots and went back to where I normally did business.

Where did you stay?
It was very expensive to travel in those days and I had a deal with my partner, whose wife wouldn’t let him travel, that if I went to Rio or San Paulo or Buenos Aires that I wouldn’t stay in some motel or sit at the back of the plane for 12 hours.
So I stayed at what was the Hyatt then but is the Four Seasons now, I went to the recommended restaurants, and had a great parrilla. I’m not sure if any still exist but there was one, very high-scale place, that may have been on Quintana and Posadas, that I am sure is still there. I saw a few things, such as Plaza Francia, and the museums were lovely. Business was lousy, but the women were great…
I went for high tea at the Hyatt. I’d never been to high tea anywhere. I went and all these old ladies would go with their nurses. Professional dancers would come out and do a spin with their partners then their partners would break off and they’d take one of these 80-year-old ladies and take them for a whirl on the dancefloor. It was quite cute and a good selling point for the hotel.

Your wife is Argentine.
Yes, I met Martha in 1995 and we started coming twice a year on vacation. We had a nice life in New York. We‘d go to Martha’s Vineyard every summer, and I‘d started going there in 1972, and we went every summer, me with whoever I was with at the time, and ending up with Martha for the last five years for nine weeks.
But then we would come here for Christmas and New Year’s, and spend a month. We’d come down, probably over the Easter break too when my textile business would slow down. And as I got to know the city, I got to like it more and more. I’ve never liked the Upper East Side of New York, which Recoleta reminded me, and I would never have moved there. I still wouldn’t.
Then at the end of the nine-week vacation, we’d paid US$13,500 for a beautiful house overlooking the ocean. The next summer, we called the owner, and she wanted US$20,000 for July and US$30,000 for August. We said “no thank you” and have never been back although I do miss that as it was always a great vacation, but enough is enough.
And we saw the way life was spiralling in New York. We’d always lived, and I wouldn’t say large, but good: Metropolitan Opera seats, Rangers tickets, a box for the ballet, ate at all the fancy restaurants but it became impossible to do because of the cost. So we started talking about moving out of the country.

Argentina was an obvious choice…
Buenos Aires had just gone through the crisis. I said to Martha that it wasn’t always going to be this cheap but it is going to take a long time for it to be as expensive as New York is. I was tired of fighting the rat-race, working harder and doing less.
But Martha didn’t want to move here. She’s from here, remembered the hard times, the people who disappeared, and was brought up by the military government. After being in the US for 20 years, she was scared about being in such close proximity to her family.
But we worked around it and came down to see some properties and bought in 2005. The night we got here, five of her childhood friends took us out for dinner, and that changed everything. I think today she is thrilled to be here. She’s got friends galore and does more than she ever did without the pressure.

Where do you live?
Well, that was the second shock when I told her I wanted to move to San Telmo. She’s from Palermo and her friends tried to get her to talk me out of buying here. I was born in the Bronx and lived the last 20 years in TriBeCa before it became a fancy place. San Telmo is where I belong. Great people, lots of space and air.
We rented the house, which was built in 1909, out for two years and we’d come down twice a year with my tape measure to lay everything out. Everything but four pieces of furniture came from New York, including the bar which I picked up from the street.

Waiting to move in for two years must have been frustrating.
It was but I had agreed with Martha we would move in 2007. I had to have a knee replacement and one of my biggest worries about moving here was the state of the medical programmes.
I find every doctor I have here is at least equal, if not better, than the same doctor I had in New York. You get to be in your 70s and you accumulate a lot of doctors. They don’t beat around the bush as doctors here aren’t afraid of medical malpractice.
My medical group gives seniors the alternative of paying for the year up-front, so you don’t get any inflation increases, which can be up to 20 percent, and I basically pay for 11 months and get a 12-month policy. I don’t believe they make any money on me…

Do you go the whole hog and visit a psychologist?
I go to a guy, and I don’t know how much psychology we do, but I spend an hour with him every week and we discuss literature and theatre and basically it‘s two old guys sitting around talking, but for some reason I feel better after it.

Do you see any differences in BA?
The thing I like most about living here is the people. I get asked, “what’s wrong with the people in New York?” and I say nothing, but they don’t have the same manners. It’s hard to describe to people who haven’t been here, but there are small differences that make life much easier. I find the pressure to be about 10 percent of what it was in New York.

Do you still work?
Oh yes. I closed my textile business in 1998 and was going crazy. I’m healthy, I was an ultra-distance runner and to just sit around and have lunches every day — it wasn‘t enough. So I started working in a wine store, which was helpful as I was drinking too much as I waited for Martha to get home. We’d both get home at 9pm and drink less, and now I’m a wine agent for two bodegas here. I love wines from Spain above all, but a quarter of my cellar is filled with those two bodegas’ wine. I have no problem in finding something to drink!

What do you miss about the US?
An Israeli friend was staying recently who asked me that and I told him, “I don’t miss New York in a heart beat.” I have family, my son and daughter, friends, but that list goes down because, out of sight out of mind. Our lives don’t intersect any more.
I have more friends here as I do things with them. It was easy to meet people as Martha had an army of friends she went to school with, so they were my first friends, and that helped my Spanish.

How do spend your day?
I try to work out in the morning, water my plants, then make a few calls to the States about business. I take two voice training classes and work with my piano player twice a week, see my shrink for an hour and have lunch with one of the guys. I write, read, work on my music.

What does music mean to you?
It’s become a very important part of my life here. We do a show every two months, we’re up to 16 now, and we’re cutting a record next month.
I‘ve been singing since I was 13 years old and when we got down here, Martha started going to a bel canto coach as she teaches and always speaks very loudly. So I started going and she introduced me to a jazz pianist she thought I could sing with. So I called Adrián and we’ve been together ever since. Every one else in the band has changed, but he is the rock, he’s great.
I was very gratified with the state of jazz in Buenos Aires — it’s far more advanced than I thought it would be. The kids play very well. They are accomplished musicians and very serious students of the genre, and open to things I can teach them, even though I’m not a musician.
Both being retired and being in Argentina has allowed me to do this.

Published in the Buenos Aires Herald on January 22, 2012
Photo by Mariano Fuchila

On the San Telmo border is the 1930s Moreno Hotel, which recently revamped its restaurant, culminating in Aldo’s Vinoteca y Restorán (Moreno 372, 5291-2380). What better than being surrounded by 500 wines eagerly standing to attention in front of perfectly placed mirrors, silently calling “pick me, pick me”?

For the rest of this feature, please check out the Time Out Insider’s Guide Spring/Summer 011/12 issue.

La Alhambra´s stuffed vine leaves cost 35 pesos for 14.

But I crave, desire, want and sometimes even need some totally different kind of foodstuffs. A dollop of hummus waiting for some fingers of toast to dip into them, maybe a sandwich with mustard to bring out the ham…

So it was with baited breath when I got wind of some vine leaves, left over from New Year, that needed a home. Rich pickings that wouldn‘t wilt in the afternoon sun which had been made by people in the know from Confitería Armenia on Scalabrini Ortiz and Cabrera, I waited like an anxious adoptive mother for colleague Paige to bring in the little stuffed leaves, sometimes called niños envueltos.

Generous enough to share them round, I was muchly relieved when no one bar Paige, who knew their true worth, and Archie, who knew what they were, took me up on the offer of a succulent stuffed vine leaf. Of course, the canteen staff thought I’d lost the plot, munching down leaves like an ant.

The point of all this is that whether you consider them to be Greek, Armenian, Lebanese or Turkish, and whether they are stuffed with lamb mince, mackerel or sun-dried tomatoes, I wanted some more stuffed vine leaves and some sister food to go with. First port of call? The ever-popular Sarkis.

TIME IS MONEY
Starting with the positive, the Armenian eaterie in Villa Crespo will give you change from 100. Remember the rules? Dinner for two, including soft drinks for both diners and change from 100 pesos. Sarkis’ reputation for good value precedes it, but perhaps a new rule needs to be added in: enjoying what you eat.

I’ve been several times, and have always come away full and happy. But such is its reputation, the whole world and his dog wants to eat there, and queuing for an hour is unacceptable to me.

Granted it was a Saturday night, inevitably busy, but after the first 30 minutes I thought I needed to see this waiting through. So we did, were ushered to the quieter upstairs compared with the bustling ground floor, and took on some menu classics. The hummus had clearly missed the tahini turning as it mainly tasted of peanut butter. It was also a bad night for the tabbouleh — which was missing mint, light on flat parsley and overcompensated on the scallion — while the meat dishes, kebbe and a kafta kebab, were simply greasy concoctions which tasted the same and merely differed in shape.

Discarding one meat dish from the selection means you will get change from 100 and probably squeeze in a beer too, but I left Sarkis that night with a growling tummy, and not because it was hungry.

Not prepared to admit defeat but less than happy after my Sarkis experience, I vowed to Mr Links that there simply had to be somewhere serving up similar dishes but without the 60-minute wait that could also give me change from 100 and could leave me full yet content. Is panza llena, corazón contento too much to ask for?

ARABIAN NIGHT
La Alhambra considers itself to be an Arabian eaterie, and it’s so discreet and tucked away it would be easy to never, ever stumble across it, despite its fairly central Palermo location. And if its three downstairs tables and sofa are full, fear not, there’s an upstairs too.

The menu doesn‘t steer much from the “classic” Middle-Eastern food path — hummus, falafel, vine leaves and the like — but given that it is a far smaller restaurant, a bit more love probably goes into these dishes’ preparation. And not just love but also the correct ingredients. However, Mr Links, who frequents the joint, did note “that the nice lady from the kitchen has gone” and had been replaced by a young man, certainly that night.

Although the hummus, too, was lacking a dollop of tahini, at least its presence was noted. The baba ghanoush was impeccable: the smokey aubergine taste came right through, and I wish we’d ordered the full-size bowl instead of a half-portion. The taboulleh was also spot on, and included everything necessary – and also the mint, which makes it so refreshing on a steamy January night.

The key to ordering at La Alhambra is to order half-size portions where you can so you get to have go on everything, and the restaurant exactly halves the price instead of adding on extra money for no apparent reason — the hummus and baba ghanoush cost 10 pesos each.

What was extravagant was the price of the mineral water at 12 pesos a bottle, a price I‘d expect from Tegui, Sucre or some other ultra-swanky joint, not at what is essentially an Arabian café.

But it’s number-crunching time, hungry tums, and after selecting the aforementioned two dips, 14 stuffed vine leaves for 35 pesos, impeccable taboulleh at 20 pesos, plus all the bread we wanted as well as soft drinks, we got back 100 centavos to not spend all at once from 100 pesos.

Sarkis
Thames 1101, Villa Crespo
Tel 4772-4911

La Alhambra
Charcas 4309, Palermo
Tel: 4777-4656

When did you first come to Argentina?
I came here in January 2009 and basically I haven’t left. I’d been living in London for three years and I had an international marketing job, dealing with clients all around the world who could all speak five or six languages. I’d tried French once and was hopeless, and I’d learnt Japanese at school but I didn’t ever speak it . So I thought to myself, right you’re going to learn a language.
My sister had been in Peru so I thought I’d try Spanish. I did some courses but if you aren’t speaking it and living it, then it’s really hard. I’d go to one lesson for two hours, drop my homework on my colleague’s desk, as he was from Spain, and that was a dead giveaway, given that I didn’t speak a word.

What led to the move from London?
It was 2008 and the crash was looking likely, the markets were going down, so I thought 2009 would be the year. My ex boss was also from Argentina, so she talked about Buenos Aires a lot. There were all these signs so I bought a ticket, and told my sister I was going. She was really surprised as I’d never been to South America, or even North America, as I was all about Europe.
So I booked seven days in a hostel and a three-day Spanish course, I didn’t know anyone and I hardly knew any Spanish.

Where did you stay?
I rocked up to Palermo, met some people and did the course, and then I went to a wine-tasting. I met an American guy and told him how I really wanted to learn Spanish and his advice was to leave Buenos Aires, as I’d speak too much English. He told me about a teaching programme out in some tiny pueblos. I looked it up, met the lady and within two weeks I was getting lessons on how to teach English to Argentine kids, and was sent to Vicuña Mackenna, a town of 10,000, in the south of Córdoba province.
So I rocked up there and wondered what I was doing, as it was all about teaching English to primary age kids in a state school, living with a family. The whole experience was about getting to know Argentina and obviously learning Spanish.
It was a roller-coaster ride as my family didn’t speak a word of English. All I could tell them was my name and some numbers.

How did communication work out?
I’d have my dictionary on me and would gesticulate for them to “wait” while I looked up word. It was hell for them, and for me! I also had the stress of dealing with teaching and I had 70 kids and a class of 15 six-year-olds and it was their first time learning English, so it was hard for them too! They’d just look at me…
I used to have Spanish classes in the morning then in the afternoon I’d speak English then at night I’d speak Spanish again with the family. Well, try to speak…
My head was ready to pop. I’d never felt such an intensity before and I actually went and bought memory pills! The pharmacy thought I was mad, so there I was popping these pills, not knowing whether they were working or not. My teacher thought I was hilarious, but I said to her “I have to do something!”
The hardest thing was the fact that the kids had such different levels, from absolutely nothing to kids who were able to travel to the US and could say a few things.

How long were you in Mackenna for?
I spent four months teaching there and it was great. The experience was incredible. For me it was all about the people who made it for me, and if it wasn’t for them I might not still be here.
Although there were other teachers in the same situation as me, the nearest one was in another little town two hours away so we’d speak on the phone a lot, just to talk.
I was the only foreigner in this town so of course, I was always asked a lot of questions and my family became famous because everyone wanted to know who was staying with them.

What was the town like?
Lots of dirt roads, but there are contrasts as the area is wealthy because it’s the campo, but you’d also see tiny little houses with kids living with their grandmas.
As the school was a state one, we had the bare minimum. There wasn’t any heating in the classroom so in winter we’d all come in in ski jackets!

What surprised you the most?
Being able to get through the experience and have fun while I did it. My biggest thing was to learn a language and I knew it would be hard. It was also amazing to watch how such young kids could learn, to hear their pronunciation. And how the people could take me in and accept me, living in this tiny little town in the middle of Argentina. Being in London was all about money, you had to have the right handbag and the right technology, while in Mackenna it was all about a Sunday asado or drinking mate.
The times also mucked me up. I’d get home from school thinking “where’s the food?” and would drink mate like there’s no tomorrow to try and get me through!

Were there many house rules?
No, my family were brilliant. I don’t eat red meat so that was really hard for them as that is pretty much all they eat. “My mum” let me cook, which was great, as I told her that I need to eat fruit, and veggies, so I’d buy the weirdest stuff to them: cous cous, quinoa, avocado. They though I was crazy as I’d travel to Córdoba city to buy those things. I had to explain what sushi was as they had no idea, and once I made nachos, which the kids went wild for.
I do eat white meat so “my mum” would cook that for me, and she also started cooking vegetarian dishes, which was amazing as the family started to change too. “My dad” had some tests and it turned out he had high cholesterol and he could see what I was doing so they all started to eat more salads, veggies. I know it was a lot more expensive for the family so I’d help out, and also cook every now and then.
I also made pancakes one time, so for the little boy’s birthday I made 14 and towered them up with dulce de leche and chocolate, and he loved it!

What happened when you left Mackenna?
We had a big Australia day at school. My mum went mad on packaging and had been sending me postcards and temporary tattoos on a weekly basis, and toy koalas and blow-up kangaroos. One time I even decorated the classroom with leaves from eucalyptus trees. Of course, the kids put the tattoos all over them, and those tattoos then got banned from school.
The kids were amazing. When it was my birthday, they all made me cakes and lit some candles. Of course, we set the fire alarms off so now candles have been banned from school too…

Do you go back to Mackenna?
I returned in December for my “little sister’s” communion and I go every few months. My parents visited last year and we had a big New Year’s party there.

Why did you decide to return to BA?
Everything was very mañana in Mackenna. I’d spend the day going from one friend’s house to another drinking mate, and I realized I needed to break away from that. I went to work on an organic farm in Mendoza for eight days in this hick little town, planting strawberries. It absolutely killed me! I returned to Mackenna for two weeks to help a family practise their English and told them I needed to get back into marketing. They said the only place for that was in Buenos Aires.

The food aficionado within
Once she had decided to return to the bright lights of Buenos Aires, Australian Anne Reynolds got back into the swing of living in the city quickly. Finding employment with relative ease, she struck lucky given that the company helped her out with the all-important DNI paperwork, and Reynolds soon found that it was becoming harder to leave Argentina.
After meeting Marina Ponzi, who runs Ladies Brunch Buenos Aires, the two food-passionate women decided to set up a gastronomical tour with a difference, a business venture which is proving successful and adding to Reynolds’ reasons to remain in the capital.
Nestling among the puertas cerradas closed-door restaurants and wine-tasting tours is
Fuudis, which takes hungry diners to three distinctive restaurants in a particular neighbourhood, for a starter, main course and dessert.
“We wanted an Argentine audience for this project, as we knew it could be up-and-down market if it was just aimed at foreigners. We have tours in San Telmo, Palermo Hollywood, Palermo Chico and Recoleta at the moment, as well as themed dinners, and a group of about 20 people get together each week to try out three restaurants. We had no idea how it would work out, but people really seem to love it,” she says.
Attempting to steer away from the well-known eateries, Reynolds says: “We don‘t just to go the ones which are in guide books or have big names. We’ve been really lucky to hook up with some great owners, for example, there’s one enthusiastic Italian who tries to load us down with food, and we always have to tell him not to prepare too much as we have to move on to the next place! We also let the chefs or owners talk about the meal or wine, which people like.
“We had originally thought we’d have to do a lot of talking to get people to mingle, but on the very first night we had a mixture of Argentines and foreigners, couples, bank managers, architects — and everyone talked to each other — they all wanted to carry onto another bar, and even shared taxis home!” she says.
Other alternative tours run by expats include visits to the most prominent Jewish buildings and areas in the city conducted by Texan Chance Miller from BAlocal; Yorkshire lass Sophie Lloyd, who tailor-makes shopping tours for the fashion-hungry; and the well-established Graffitimundo tour, run by Marina Charles, which takes art aficionados on an ever-changing tour of Buenos Aires street art in Colegiales and Palermo neighbourhoods.

Photo by Mariano Fuchila.
Published in the Buenos Aires Herald on January 15, 2012.

A quick word on that cheesecake base. Having munched through much of a pack of trusty McVitie’s Digestive biscuits, I realized that a cheesecake base it would not make. Oh, how I had plans, resolutions even, in 2011, to whip up such a tempting dessert. But it just wasn’t meant to be.

Marco, however, who may have some inside information thanks to his US employer, cunningly used Lincoln biscuits and crushed them with butter. That base was pretty close to perfect, crunchy yet crumbly, really spot on.

A second, quick word, on the lamb. Snouting around the edge of the swimming pool, I plucked some fat, plump leaves from El Westie’s mum’s garden to make some mint sauce. Now the thought of plucking may sound like I’ve done this before, but indeed I hadn’t. Knowing Mónica the little I do, I was certain I could find caster sugar and white wine vinegar lurking in her larder. Boiling up a little hot water, and Bob’s your uncle, Sorrel‘s your auntie, I introduced mint sauce my fellow NYE revellers to accompany the best lamb El Westie has grilled in four years of NYE lambs.

So while I’m attempting to make the year-end sound tame on the glutton and calorie front, I would also like to share my 2012 idea about a change in decisions. After all, it‘s hard to stick to a resolution for 365 days, and brag about it consistently, so I’ve decided to ease myself in gently with some “lifestyle changes” rather than resolutions, and it starts with dusting down and oiling up my mountain bike…
But. Before I do that… two places to splurge out on before you… diet.

T TIME.
With a demanding Londoner in town, the dietary requirements were: excellent food, excellent setting, no expense spared. Tegui, thought I, and off we went.

A pre-dinner cucumber martini practically felt like a liver transplant, so soothing it was on my weary organ. (And this was before Christmas.) Interestingly, the menu is fixed price per the number of courses you demolish, so a main costs around 150 pesos, and there are a cluster of options. Definitely no “Change From 100,” so take a credit card and let someone else pay, but fewer dishes on the menu tends to mean they are excellent, delicious and always a good bet in my book.

Sharing a starter is socially acceptable at Tegui thank goodness, despite the rather swanky ambience, so we opted for oysters although oddly, just five out of the usual half-dozen turned up. Despite this, they were mouth-watering, slightly dipped in bread crumbs and lime juice, and large and juicy — we could have easily ordered another 15 and slurped the lot down.

A few weeks ago, I wrote an article called “Where’s The F In Fish?” Well, there’s plenty filling up Tegui’s short menu, including red tuna that night, and chef German Martitegui, who also runs Palermo’s Ølsen and Casa Cruz kitchens, is doing everything right that a high-end, ultra-cool, gastro’s wet dream of a restaurant should be.

Reading reviews about Tegui, its service has come in for flack and I will add my two centavos. Plenty of handsome waiting staff — our main man was distracted and took a good 15 minutes to send the sommelier over. Don’t leave customers, especially me and my friends, thirsty.

Four blocks south of Tegui is Ceviche, the Peruvian Nikkei Sushi restaurant with an abundance of fresh fish. Specializing in Peru’s delicacy — and boy, do I have a weekend in Lima’s cevicherías planned — Ceviche, which also opened in Las Cañitas a few weeks ago, is another splurge-before-you-diet option.

On my to-eat-at list for some time, the atmosphere is bustling, Mexican-canteen style, and I mention it simply because I had expected something rather more staid. That said, it was before Christmas, and my rampant imagination was cooled down with an impeccable Pisco Sour (Peru vs. Chile debate for another time.)

When in Rome, eat like the Roman so we ignored the Sushiman (sorry) and went with the four ceviche tasting menu. Abundant, fresh, in hindsight I’d have asked for more picante sauce, but giving all the options a go in one hit for 93 pesos (see photo) means I know for next time I‘ll opt just for the Ceviche del mercado, with baby squid and caramelized sweet potato.

Also on the menu are tempura prawns, marinated sole, and grilled sword-fish. But as filling as a risotto, it had to be the Cazuela de langostinos. Less liquid than imagined, this was more of a paella with salmon, octopus, mussels, and prawns sizzling away in squid-ink tinted rice. With more than enough for two at 81 pesos, it could just about qualify for ‘Change From 100’, but you couldn’t give any of the ceviches, taster or otherwise, a go.

Although I haven’t checked out the Cañitas branch yet, I’m keen to go, if only so I can better hear which ceviche Mr. Links is reluctant to share with me, thereby avoiding some public fork tussling across a small bowl.

Tegui
Costa Rica 5852, Tel: 5291-3333
Ceviche
Costa Rica 5644, Tel: 4776-7374

Published in the Buenos Aires Herald on January 8, 2012.

When did you first visit Argentina?
I first came here in February 1997 on a long-distance coach from Asunción in Paraguay and was on my way to Uruguay. I was going to spend my year abroad on Montevideo but on my second day in Buenos Aires, I met my future first wife, who was going out with an Italian.
I got very drunk on a cheap bottle of whisky which cost me three pesos, and she gave me her address which I hid in the back of a book and didn’t find for the next two months. When I did find it I wrote to her, she replied and we met again in July 1997, snogged, then I continued at university.

Where did you live then?
There were two hostels in Buenos Aires then: one in Constitución, which was rumoured to be for prostitutes so everyone went to a place called El Aguila in La Paternal neighbourhood.

Did you have a plan with regard to Montevideo?
Oh, yes I had a place at the Universidad de la República and I was going to study Uruguayan history and Latin American literature. But all the classes started at 7pm and went on until 11pm which was far too demanding, so I turned up for a couple of Italian classes with an old Italian woman, and spent the rest of my time sitting around the house drinking cheap gin, smoking and playing darts and watching bad films on cable with my English friend. As they say, “education is wasted on the young.” That was my year abroad.

What happened with your first wife?
I came back for her in Buenos Aires, my other mistress, in January 1999. I’d graduated and worked for seven months getting some money together. When I got to Buenos Aires, it was summer and hot, and I put on a suit and tie, thinking that was what I had to do here, and went looking for teaching jobs without having any qualifications. After a month of sweating, the final place I went to was the William Blake Institute in Barrio Norte. They took me on, trained me — and four years later, closed down… But it was 2002 and everything was closing down then.

How did long-distance love work out for you at that time?
It was all by letter. We wrote three or four letters a week to each other, replying to ones that had arrived two weeks earlier. We knew that email existed but we didn’t really know how to do it. I was working for IBM at the time and even so, I still didn’t really know as we weren’t allowed to use Internet at work and I thought Yahoo was the Internet.
I came here for a year to see what happened and we went to Eastern Europe that winter. In Bucharest we got mugged by the taxi mafia, and were nearly killed. Well, we didn’t, but it felt ropey. So I gave them five pounds and they went away but I thought “she could have been killed there. All those letters would have gone to waste.” So I proposed to her in Krakow as she had Polish grandparents, then it turned out they were actually from the Ukraine.

When did you get married?
We planned to marry in 2001, but as I was going through the DNI trámite we found out it was easier to get documents if I was married. So I kind of did it for the papers, but obviously also for love. Then five years passed… and we split.

What happened after the language school closed?
I became a private teacher and also started working for the Japanese school in Belgrano, which is part of the embassy. Then I became a translator in 2003. I also write, so after I got divorced I had lots of material. My first novel was a shrinking one, as the first chapter was 101 words long, until the final chapter was just word. That wasn’t very good, actually and was more of a novela.
My second book was about divorces, mine and my mum’s. My ex-wife was very pleased with it and said “go ahead and publish it,” while my mum said “Publish this and I’ll sue you.” She never got as far as the end, which is when it got better…
Then I got a job with a production company doing voice-overs for the the new Simpsons. I worked on that for a year-and-a-half then it was axed because of the European financial crisis. I then wrote another novel about a filmmaker who finds Brian May (of the band Queen) in his wardrobe.

Which trámite was harder to process, your DNI or your divorce?
Oh, the divorce was quite easy… and her stepdad was a lawyer so he was able to pull strings and it cost me 100 pesos. It was quite painless compared to the DNI, which needed documents and money. It was something I wanted, but not something Argentina wanted to give me.

Where did you live during your first marriage?
In Palermo Viejo, on Cabrera and Serrano. I still drink at Bangalore, and I like the fact the pavements are now wider. But it’s a bit like Oasis and their first album — I started to hate them in 1997 by the time everyone else liked them. It was like that with Palermo. You feel incredibly cool, then everyone else starts going to your cool place…
I like living in Belgrano too, as there are fishmongers and hardware shops. I’m one block from Belgrano R station, which means I’m one block from being posh.

What is your official job these days?
I’m doing some scriptwriting for MTV but I’m also riding all the buses in Buenos Aires for a project called Colectivaizeishon. I read a book by A. J. Jacobs called The Know-It-All in which he reads all the Encyclopedia Britannicas in a year, so I decided to set myself a similar sort of challenge which seemed a bit pointless but I could enjoy. I used to be a train spotter, which is like being an alcoholic as it stays with you, so it would have been nice to do a train version.
I’ve lived here for 12 years and know Palermo, Barrio Norte and Belgrano well but didn’t know anything crossing over Rivadavia Avenue, so I thought it would be a fun way to do it.

Do you start at the beginning?
Yes, at the start of the line, often in Saavedra or Belgrano. Buses often go from there to Constitución, and then I go on to somewhere else — often Retiro — then maybe somewhere in the west, then back home.

Any other plans for bus project?
I’m planning to make a documentary about the buses. But I don’t want to film people on the bus so I need to invent some spy glasses.

Do buses ascend consistently?
There is a 1, 2 then 4. There isn’t a 3. Lots of buses have stopped — they go from 1 to 195 — and there are only 141. So 54 are missing, and some have been taken over by other companies. They were originally based on tram lines, as buses started up in competition with the trams.
I like to write a bit of history about each bus, for example, the 151 goes past Bangalore which is where I met Josefina, my second wife.

Which is your favourite bus?
It’s the one I used to take when I lived in Barrio Norte, the 39, and it goes down the guitar street, Talcahuano.

If you were acting President Amado Boudou, what would you do?
I’d bring back trams. Cristina would have the surprise of her life when she got back to Buenos Aires as there wouldn’t be any public transport, just trams and horses. Actually, maybe not horses, you know what they are like with dog shit here. But definitely trams. I’d also demolish the port and put it somewhere where nobody goes, like La Plata, and make a nice clean beach.

…Then three come along
Everyone has a favourite bus in Buenos Aires — in fact, I have a few in particular, including the 59 for extreme frequency, the 140 for speed and air conditioning, and the 39, versions one and three, which leave me outside my front door — but writer Daniel Tunnard has taken this a step further.
Once a week, he takes a cluster of buses for his Colectivaizeishon column which appears (in Spanish) in La Razón newspaper each week.
One revelation he has found, having taken his 56th bus out of 141 in the City of Buenos Aires this past week, is that colectivos travel through villas.
“I was surprised that there are buses that go through shantytowns — the 23 and the 26 — which go through San Lorenzo in Bajo Flores. The 26 actually stops in the villa and you have to get off and walk a block to get back on it. There are two security guards there, watching everything.
“I always thought shantytowns were completely no-go areas, when really they are fairly accessible. Taking the long-distance bus from Retiro, you can see the Villa 31 is right there — but you wouldn’t know how much you can walk down into before someone robbed you or beat you up… I’m tempted.
“I think you need to walk into a villa with your head held high, as if you belong there. And probably without a camera.”
Tunnard’s most recent posting is entitled: “The 136 – Random observations from a really boring bus” — read on for an excerpt.
“I have a schedule with the order I’m supposed to be taking the 141 bus routes in Buenos Aires, which is available for your relaxed perusal on my blog. This monument to my own obsessive-compulsive disorder took me four days with my head in the Guía T and various websites, and I managed to undo a good part of my geeky work on only the fourth day of Colectivaizeishon when I took the wrong bus and had to reshuffle the whole damn programme. After that slip-up, I am resolved to follow the rest of the schedule to the letter. But I’m standing at the 163 bus stop for 20 minutes in Liniers and the 163 just ain’t coming. What if the 163 doesn’t exist anymore? Do I stand here for all eternity, renowned as “the Brit who tried to take all the buses in Buenos Aires but got stuck waiting for ever for the 163 that never came”? Not much of a title for a book. I give up and take the 136, which does the same route, is the same colour and practically the same number as the 163, if you’re colour-blind and dyslexic. As soon as I get on the 136, two 163s whiz past.”

Published in the Buenos Aires Herald on January 8, 2012.
Photo by Mariano Fuchila.

Renowned for its fantastic acoustics, the Teatro Colón is one of Buenos Aires’ most important edifices, historically and aesthetically. The 1908 construction of this neo-Renaissance grande-dame was in the hands of three men over 20 years: Francesco Tamburini, who died mid-project; his pupil Vittorio Meano; and the Belgian-born Jules Dormal.

The influence of Dormal, who completed work on this vast 8,200m2 opera house, is most prominent thanks to his use of French neoclassicism in the decoration, but the Colón also incorporates Italian and German techniques, the latter obvious through its solid marble and iron construction. The entrance hall, for example, uses various styles: red-marble columns imported from Verona covered in stucco imitate the Botticino look, while its vitraux ceiling was undertaken by Gaudin of Paris.

For the rest of this article from Qatar Airlines Oryx in-flight magazine, please click here .