Bright and beautiful: Cebiche criollo with flounder.

With just one brand-new entry — London’s Dinner by Heston Blumenthal — coming in at number nine, the only other restaurant to make the top, which clambered up the poll by 14 places to squeeze its way in at number 10, was of course a brash New Yorker, Eleven Madison Park.

However, it was Copenhagen’s Noma, which serves up Nordic delicacies such as poached sea urchin and powdered cucumber, which was named the “World’s Best Restaurant” for the third consecutive year.

Two weeks before this accolade was confirmed, Buenos Aires’ Danish Embassy flew in Simon Lau Cederholm, fellow countryman, and chef and owner of Aquavit in Brasilia, who, alongside an Argentine chef, prepared a menu based on new Nordic cuisine in Puerto Madero.

Although I’ve visited Copenhagen, sadly there was no Noma on my list that time, but now I have a taste for the Nordic, there will be more from Denmark in next week’s Wining On.

Latin America did make it to the top 10, although no Argentine establishment even makes the top 50, and in fact Sao Paulo’s D.O.M. climbed three places to rank four this year.

I had an unfortunate near-miss with D.O.M. two years ago, and yes, the reason was that it was impossible to book a table. Although it obviously isn’t the only SP restaurant serving up produce from Brazil and its Amazonian region, including foodstuffs from the rainforest — I went to the similar Brasil a Gosto in the ultra-cool Jardins district, but then many of the SP eateries that make “cool” or “best” lists are found in Jardins — Alex Atala, the chef and owner of D.O.M., is obviously getting it better than right.

I did, however, totally luck out with Restaurante Fasano, at the boutique Fasano Hotel — a veritable European treat which fortunately someone else was picking up the tab for, and Jun Sakamoto, a Brazilian-Japanese chef whose sushi is so fabulous I swore I’d never touch it in Buenos Aires again. (Wrong.)

Four Latin American eateries made The World’s 50 Best List: Lima’s Astrid y Gastón rose seven places to 35, Mexico City’s Pujol soared 13 places to 36 while Biko, also in DF, slipped seven to 38.

Although no one took me to Peru this week for lunch, not even to the Little Lima of Buenos Aires, I managed to get as close to a World’s 50 Best as I ever have done.

Owner and chef Gastón Acurio has rolled out his Astrid y Gastón restaurant concept — which started out as traditional Peruvian but has now morphed into something more sophisticated to become a Peruvian-haute cuisine hybrid — across the continent as well as into Spain. With establishments in Mexico, Colombia, Chile, Brazil, Venezuela and Ecuador, the local branch of A&G is located in Palermo Chico, just two blocks from Avenue Libertador, but quiet and tucked away nonetheless.

First things first, it certainly did not have a chain feel to it. Once I’d found the main entrance after a fight with a velvet curtain, there are several dining rooms spread across the ground and first floors, as well as tables out on the back terrace.

Seated in the white room, more opulent velvet curtains blocked the view to the outside world, but given the number of mirrors (perfectly placed for discreetly picking out coriander from gappy teeth), eating by the light of three chandeliers was sufficient.

Peruvian waiter Christopher was extremely well-informed as to the components of each course, giving a little history to ingredients or the names of dishes. Even when he didn’t serve us, a different waiter knew exactly what was going on as well.

I did work out that Christopher wasn’t calling the cebiche criollo “peculiar” — what he meant was that it was a different variation on a classic, rather than a queer fish which had leapt into my dish.

Clearly there is little cheap about A&G, but the seven-course tasting menu — three starters, three mains, a dessert, plus coffee and a glass of Malbec or Chardonnay — coming in at 240 pesos is about average in BA at the moment.

HG by Hernán Gipponi, which is at the Fierro — “the hotel for the gourmand” — costs 190 pesos for a nine-course dinner while Trip Advisor top dog Aramburu, whose chef and owner Gonzalo Aramburu whips up 12 courses of molecular gastronomy from his Constitución kitchen (take a cab) for 280 pesos.

But back to Astrid y Gastón. The first step was memorable but then I am always a sucker for a fishy dish. The cebiche criollo was a mix of the classic marinated white fish but also jalea, lightly fried seafood which in this case was baby squid. The flounder (lenguado) was perfect, fresh, succulent, and was surrounded by leche de tigre (the citrus-based ceviche marinade), perfect for slurping up the flounder chunks. Cubed sweet potato popped like a little cloud on the tongue.

Round two was a twist on the classic causa de pollo. A potato base, stained with red pepper, supported shreds of chicken and mayonnaise, and there was plenty of creamy salsa huancaina for mopping up the colourful remainder and edible flowers.

A pea risotto and sausage-stuffed, grilled then pan-fried baby squid was the third starter and one of the meal’s most interesting. Despite the autumnal weather, I was transported forward to spring, and this week’s saus-urge was cancelled out immediately. Who’d have thought I’d be wolfing down a banger in the name of Peruvian-haute cuisine?

Of the three mains — Chilean octopus, a lenguado stew in a basil jus and succulent beef cheek slow-cooked for 12 hours — it was the grilled then pan-fried eight-legged friend who won out for me, hidden under foam, and surrounded by squid-ink tainted gnocchi.

Although most of the seafood courses were flounder-based, Christopher had been quick to point out that the menu naturally depended on what the market was offering — but no matter, it was all creative and more to the point, delicious.

Clearly this is not the award-winning number 35 restaurant on the World’s Best list, but for some fresh and exciting tastes, Buenos Aires’ little sister restaurant is doing great things of its own accord — and without the Peruvian ingredients so readily available in Lima.

Wining On verdict: Ace for a foody date, especially if the date is paying.

Astrid & Gastón
Lafinur 3222, Palermo Chico
Tel: 4802-2991

Published in the Buenos Aires Herald on May 6, 2012.
Photo by Allan Kelin.

The move came, when Powell was told he needed surgery which would cost him US$2,500. He could not afford it, and so the private hospital called an ambulance to take him to a public hospital.

He says: “I waited three or four hours in the worst pain of my life, and they were pumping me with painkillers, which of course I had to pay for every time they do it. I got to Rivadavia (see photo) as high as a kite…

Although he has to wait, often for several exhausting hours at a time, for an appointment, what is the reality of receiving adequate, even good, cancer treatment at a public Argentine hospital?

Powell says: “One thing that has always surprised me is how accessible the doctors are. I don’t know how they keep their buena onda, because the system is warped, and there are so many people. When I go to Marie Curie now, it’s a six-hour wait. That’s daily. The doctors are always patient, answer all your questions and even when I can talk to them in Spanish, they want to speak to me in English. I’ve been amazed at the care of the doctors.

However, Powell is less positive about the facilities. “That’s a different story. In Rivadavia, they scared me and said the next step would be chemo and that I should sell everything I owned and go to a private clinic. Because in the public system there aren’t any modern radiation machines. It is cobalt, it’s radioactive material. They put you in a big, lead-lined bunker and they radiate your whole body. But they said ‘you’re young, the prognosis is good…’ I like being called young at 50!

“We investigated private clinics which would cost 25,000 pesos and wasn’t possible. So we had to search around, and it turns out public hospitals do deals with private clinics. Marie Curie, which also has a cobalt machine, said they would find me a private clinic, as cobalt is for the last stage, for people who are dying. So they arranged for me to go to a private clinic.

“In Argentina they feel very strongly that you deserve to be treated if you are sick, period, and the only problem I’ve had has been with bureaucrats from the States. I’ve had doctors talk to bureaucrats as I don’t have DNI and technically I needed something, in order to access get a private clinic. But my doctors explained I could not wait, and so they worked it out.

“If I were in the States, I’d probably be dead.”

www.rickfightscancer.com

Rick Powell still takes visitors on art tours of San Telmo despite recently completing chemotherapy.

Tell me about the first time you came to Argentina.
It was when I moved here, in September 2009. I’d been in Prague for five years and was tired of it. I’m not very good with bureaucracy, and I liked being able to go across the border, get my stamp and come back, like you can here.
Well, the Czech republic got into Schengen, which means first, there are no borders with Germany or Slovakia, so you can’t get a visa — you have to go outside of Schengen — and that was too much of a hassle.
Then they were clamping down, on North Americans particularly, all the reciprocal stuff. Prague’s a beautiful city but I’d been there five years, and that was long enough.

So why Buenos Aires?
I started talking to people about where I should go and everyone said there was a good gay scene here. I didn’t necessarily care that much about that, only in terms of comfort levels. In the Czech Republic most people are closeted and everyone is concerned about privacy.
And lots of people said “oh we had a great time in Argentina, oh it’s so cheap” — not any more! — so it was between Istanbul and Buenos Aires.
I don’t know what tipped me over. It wasn’t the cheapest destination in terms of getting here. But I think the arts scene intrigued me.
The first place I stayed at was Art Factory hostel in San Telmo and that’s how I got into the street art scene. I often think I lucked out, if you can call it luck, because healthcare is free. It’s in the Constitution that if you live here, whether you are a citizen, you have to be treated — and I don’t think that would have been the case in Turkey.

Tell me about the early days.
I couldn’t believe how big the city was. I decided to take the bus from the airport, just because I thought I would never have the chance to go through all the neighbourhoods it passes through. I knew it would take a long time, but it took so long I thought, “surely I have to be getting somewhere soon.” I knew it was one of the top-10 cities but had no idea it was that big.
So I got off, got lost, and had two backpacks and was wandering around. I finally ended up in San Telmo and felt very comfortable there. It was like neighbourhoods I’d lived in in Chicago, a real urban space, and not as beautiful as Prague but I liked it immediately.

What was the plan?
I didn’t have a plan and I rarely have one! I sort of wing it. I had a limited amount of money and I must have stayed at the hostel for two months. A friend visited from Prague, as he was also tired of how expensive the Czech Republic was, and I moved to Palermo which was totally different. I’d never lived in such a neighbourhood in my life: where I could just walk out to find boutiques and nice restaurants. It was nice but it’s not my comfort level, really.
I ended up going back to Art Factory as I started working for them, doing tours, writing their blog, and got free accommodation in return, which was enough at that time.
I’d have the cute little bungalow on the roof, a space which I loved, but when I had to sleep in a dorm with backpackers, it was too much for me as someone in their late 40s.

What other projects were you involved with?
I’d be thinking about doing a gay website, as there really wasn’t one, in collaboration with someone else. I wanted to do something fresh. So I met a guy, who said he would finance it and could also live with him.
It took a while to get started and I needed a young gay male to be out on the scene, writing in English but who could be edited, but we could not find that person. I had no interest in doing the bar scene at all. So I shelved that.
As I was already interested in the art scene and doing the tours, I decided to set up “Juanele” and start blogging. Everyone who had already worked for us was more interested in the arts blog that the gay one. We had a fairly deep site that never launched, and it has been difficult to get Argentines to understand what blogging is, that it’s every day, that it’s okay to write in the first person. And that was how Juanele, a Spanish and English art blog, was born.

What’s your background in arts?
I went to film school in the States, but had been alienated from the scene there as it’s all about selling, and the marginal stuff is very cliquish and not accessible. And in Prague I didn’t pay any attention to it all — my life was about something different entirely!
But when I came here, and started talking to gallery owners and doing tours, they were very accessible and happy about the idea of people coming to their galleries, just to show what they have. I found them to be very open and we never had a problem getting people to work with us. It was pleasantly surprising.

What captured you about BA’s scene?
Besides being very accessible, they are definitely doing their own thing. If you follow some of the blogs and newsletter in the US and UK, I have more affinity for the UK, but I don’t get it, like I don’t get Damien Hirst. There are a lot of idiosyncratic artists here, working their own visions, and I find that admirable and refreshing and I connected to a lot of them in a way I never had in the States.

Have you been to ArteBA?
Sure, we covered it, we had to. It was fun to go the first night, drink all the Champagne and see (Mayor Mauricio) Macri break a sculpture! Apparently he never paid for it… but it’s exclusively for collectors but I got to see stuff I wouldn’t normally see. I really liked Barrio Joven and a lot of the galleries we had relationships were in that section.

What has happened with Juanele?
I’d like to continue with it, but it’s in a legal limbo at the moment.

So what are you up to?
I’m still doing the art tours but most of my time seems to be between law suits and going to hospital for doctors’ appointments. I just came off an eight-week chemotherapy and radiation cycle and got the MRI. For a while, my ex-landlord wouldn’t give me back my medical records after changing the locks, but I have them now.
If you have metastasized colorectal cancer you have to have every MRI available as they have to cut out every place where the cancer was on the liver even if it shrank. So you need to have MRIs from the beginning for the doctors.
I have an appointment coming up with surgeons to see when I go under the knife.

Has the chemo worked?
It’s been working well as the lesions on my liver have gone and the tumour has shrunk but they still have to take it out or it will come back.

How did you find out you had cancer?
I had a catastrophic December 2009 and wasn’t able to defecate as the tumour had blocked my colon. And I nearly died. But I had emergency surgery at Rivadavia Hospital, then more, two weeks later, from which I went into septic shock.
All I’ve been doing is dealing with the cancer. I’d go into surgery tomorrow if they told me to. I’m so ready for the next step as my life has been in limbo — “am I going to live?”

Do you have health insurance?
I don’t, which was stupid of me. I went to one private hospital, and of course you have to pay — I have a receipt for every single thing they did to me. And you have to pay right then or they won’t go any farther. It got to the point where they said “right, now we need to operate on you, it will cost US$2,500” which is cheap — if I had US$2,500, which I did not. So they said, “well if you can’t pay it, we’ll call an ambulance to take you to Rivadavia.”

For the Expat Extra and more about Rick undergoing chemo in a public hospital, click here.

Published in the Buenos Aires Herald on May 6, 2012.
Photo by Diego Kovacic

Heart-warming, and should probably come with a heart warning: lunch at Gambrinus.

Just last Friday, I was lounging alongside a friend’s swimming-pool, dreaming about daiquiries, any flavour, and sopping up some day-off sun, much more welcome when you feel you’ve really earned it.

Three days later, and it was a mad scramble to find woollen garments, keeping them away from my cat who has adopted a queer fetish for such clothes before wrapping up warm. The flat cap is back, the leather gloves are on, and frankly if I look like a fashion reject, then so be it: I’m as snug as a bug and I don’t need a rug.

It’s weather like we’ve had in Buenos Aires this past week that possibly makes me yearn for home the most. (Sorry, mum.) The thought of tucking into a Sunday roast, lamb or chicken, roast potatoes — crunchy on the outside, fluffier than a cloud on the inside — slathered in gravy, is a distant one, and what did get the juices flowing this week was an advert on a D line subway train.

Those wretched people from cold-meats producer Paladini had plastered a picture of sausage completely perfect for making some toad-in-the-hole all along the train carriage — the brash-looking mortadela was distinctly less appealing — and from that moment on, all I could think of was sausage.

But where to get some decent pork numbers fit for a toady battering?

Actually, one new event taking place this week, although I’m not sure how it will differ from any of the organic markets in existence, such as Palermo Viejo’s Mercado Bonpland or El Galpón in Chacarita, which could prove to be the icing on the proverbial cake, sausage wise, is the Buenos Aires Market.

Hosted by Planeta Joy and the city government, the idea is to bring together producers who will be selling more than 400 organic, healthy goodies at “reasonable” prices.

Held today and yesterday on that most picturesque of San Telmo avenues, Caseros, between Defensa and Bolívar, which is also home to some restaurants I’ve been dying to try such as Hierbabuena, I will be headed there today with one thought on my mind: sausages.

But my yen needed to be filled before this weekend, so the first port of call was some kind of German eaterie. Although one particular favourite Bavarian watering-hole is Untertürkheim (named after a railway station in Stuttgart), for its three-litre “pint” glasses — perfect for comedy drunk photos — a great tapas tasting menu, German-style, and also some decent brews. But given the sense of urgency, San Telmo seemed rather far away so I kept my saus-urges local.

Several months ago I’d lunched at Palermo’s Hermann, and while the bangers of a Frankfurter variety accompanied by mash were decent enough, the service was a bit hasty, and not terribly friendly.

Checking out reviews for other German restaurants, most of them have middling “atmosphere” scores. But is that any surprise? I don’t wish to alienate a whole nation, but surely all a German waiter of heritage wants is to get the hell out of there after a long shift and drink ein bier…

So I kept it super-local, within seven blocks, and returned to an eaterie I’d had the pleasure of attending for a Man’s lunch (I humbly remind readers that I am not of that sex) in aid of Christmas: Gambrinus.

Although it is called a cervecería, don’t be lulled into a sense of false security — it’s pretty much just Quilmes on tap. But do pull down a seat at one of the wooden booths and gaze up at the vast, booze-inspired, paintings which have adorned the walls ever since it was called Otto and owned by failed businessman José Palenk some 50 years ago (the waiter’s words, not mine).

In fact, he was a veritable star, and in my haste to wolf down sausages I forgot to ask his name. But he was happy to chat, spill some beans, and said to call him over despite the fact that he, too, was lunching with his colleagues and the local copper.

Heart-warming, my two bratwurst served with chucrut should probably have come with a heart warning. They hit the spot, despite the chucrut being a bit too greasy, until I tried Mr. Links’ Frankfurters, which despite exploding after too much time in hot water, were tastier thanks to the smoked flavour.

But the mission was accomplished, the saus-urge was sated, and lunch for two cost a reasonable 102 pesos, meaning that with careful selection, Gambrinus could well qualify as a “Change from 100” dinner-time candidate.

Untertürkheim
Humberto Primo 899, San Telmo
Tel: 4307-3265

Gambrinus
Federico Lacroze 3779, Chacarita
Tel: 4553-2139

“I found talking to taxi drivers helpful as you could get into a cab, make a fool of yourself, then never see the person again!

“When I first got here, I was fascinated that all the taxis were numbered. And I thought ‘wow, wouldn’t it be great to get into taxi number one day?’ So I was always looking out of the corner of my eye for it. One day I saw 212, then next time, a number 13.

“One day, I saw number one so I flagged him down and got in. I didn’t have anywhere to go, so when he asked me, I said: ‘I don’t know. I wanted to get in because you’re taxi number one!’ He thought it was so strange, but he didn’t even know the story as it wasn’t his car. I never saw taxi number one ever again.

“I have a fascination with taxis in general and have a fantasy of driving a cab in Buenos Aires. I’ve often thought it would be a good source of songs, the shock and amazement when the passengers get in and realize a yanqui is driving them around. That in itself would be worth it for a couple of days!”

Shindell wouldn’t be the first North American to take to the mean streets of the capital. He says: “There’s a guy from New York who runs a taxi service, and he has the only Lincoln in the Southern Cone.”

Despite the quirky obsession, Shindell says he is genuinely tired of driving in Buenos Aires and bought a folding bike a month ago. Given that he is relatively new to the cycling circuit, I ask whether he has participated in the monthly Critical Mass bike ride. Incredulous that it has been going on under his nose without his knowing, he says: “But this sounds fascinating! I’ve got to find out what these people think and why they think it!” Now he is mobile in a different fashion, the songwriter is on a new voyage of discovery.

“I’ve always continued my nocturnal power walks — it’s one of my ‘things’ — but walking, you can only go so far and I got fed up going to the same places. So if I do the same thing on a bicycle, I can go way further and see way more.

“The day after I got my bicycle I went from Belgrano to La Boca. I went completely crazy! But it only has one gear and these small wheels so you pedal, pedal, pedal. It’s not designed to travel the 14km I went that day — in fact I almost destroyed it!”

Which quirky porteños make the final cut into future songs remain to be seen but with so many streets to cycle down, Shindell won’t be short of a new balloon man or street juggler.

For Richard Shindell’s Expat interview, click here.

What do you remember your first visit to Argentina?
I saw exactly nothing of the city. We were in 1995 and it was my first visit with my Argentine wife after marrying a few years before. We rented an apartment on Paraguay, and I was excited. But just as we got here, our daughter, just a baby at the time, came down with a horrible fever and I spent the entire time, as my wife was working, staying in the house with the baby for two weeks.
What I did see was a three block radius around those streets which didn’t leave a really great impression — it was winter, cold, grey.

Why did you decide to move here?
We came back in 1998 and we rented another apartment on Córdoba and Riobamba, around the corner from the Aguas Argentinas building, that incredible piece of work, and on that trip I got a chance to walk around and see the place. I remember standing in the kitchen with my wife and I let slip the fatal words: “I could live here.” I think she almost twisted her neck turning her head so fast, to say: “You said it, not me.”
So the seed was planted and we started talking about it. By then we had two kids who were aged four and one, and it just evolved into an actual project, from something you say off hand to being something concrete. It took us a couple of years to get it all together and we landed here on June 2, 2000. I believe there was a general strike that day…

Was it a definite move?
Yes but when you have little kids, you think things are plastic, that they don’t generate their own momentum and turn into inertia. I never thought about it as a long-term thing — though I should have — and kids get older, they make friends, you make friends, you buy a place, you get used to a place and all of a sudden, six years later, this is where you live. Period.
It’s an interesting psychological transformation that takes place. You go from being a tourist and think everything is wild and exotic, everythng new, I’m learning a language, and where all the streets are and little by little that changes into something, which I don’t have a name for, and then you are a local. And that’s what we are now. The kids are definitely more Argentine than North American and it occurred to me, about a year ago, that I have lived in this apartment longer than any other place in my life. That gave me a pause — you tend to think of a childhood home, but no, I lived there for six years. I’ve been here for 11 years now. That’s the longest I’ve lived anywhere so it’s definitely, in some sense, permanent.

How did you prepare for the move?
In a typical North American, half-arsed way, I tried to learn a bit of the language. When I got here I was completely green and learned Spanish by buying newspapers, one of which was the Herald, and La Nación or Clarín, and reading the article in Spanish then compare it to see if what I read made any sense.
Now, looking back, it seems incredible to me that there was a time when I had never heard or been able to understand the expression más serio que perro en bote (as poker-faced as a dog in a rowing boat). My wife’s English, on the other hand, was always excellent. For example, she could deploy (as she frequently did) a phrase like “you’re barking up the wrong tree”. So the balance was all out of whack. I mean, if one spouse is harbouring such an excellent piece of synopsis as más serio que perro en bote and the other party in the marriage is completely ignorant of the fact, then to what extent do these two people really know each other? Call it a fit of sobreactuación, but I suggested that we move to Buenos Aires in order to resolve the question and right the ship. When we arrived, I found out that the dog in the boat was just the tip of the iceberg (hence the serious demeanor). Since then, swimming lessons and lots of splashing. And we very much hope it never becomes necessary to get back into the boat.

Tell me about the first days here.
My wife started her job and I was taking the kids to nursery, and I could write a novel about trying to get our documents in order… In the mean time, I was looking for a place to buy, which was one of the ways I got to know the city as I’d go off on nocturnal walks with a little notepad, looking at buildings.

How did you meet people or find others to relate to?
Well, my wife already had colleagues but I found myself avoiding other anglophones. We didn’t send our kids to an English-Spanish bilingual school, but when I came here I became more Catholic than the pope and my tendency was to throw myself into being a local. That’s what I wanted to do.
I remember going once to see the World Series at a sports bar in Recoleta, sitting there with the Yankee fans. And it felt really weird. There I was with my compatriots but their experience wasn’t mine. So I didn’t go back!

After 12 years, what is your most Argentine characteristic?
I don’t get enough sleep! I have a pet theory that Argentina would do a whole lot better if they had a decree saying that everyone should sleep two more hours a night. Everyone has to eat dinner a little bit earlier and go to bed a little bit earlier. Sometimes I’m on the street and I look around and think “these people show the same symptoms as I do when I haven’t slept enough.” They get cranky, honk horns — I think there is massive sleep deprivation.

You were here in the 2001 crisis.
It was unbelievable. We had bought the apartment, and I was watching all this happen. I read in a paper that “Fernando de la Rúa has decreed that anyone who has a mortgage of less than US$100,000 would now have it turned into pesos.”
I asked my wife, thinking I was having a linguistic problem, and that this could not be, although it was fabulous, for me. She told me that it said what I thought it said so it meant our mortgage was slashed in half, a third, a quarter. That was an interesting milestone and very strange too. Difficult to understand.
I also remember having to learn about economics. When you live in the US most people aren’t investors or economists, and don’t think about monetary policy. But here everyone thinks about it. So I had to bone up on sorts of basic principles of economics just to understand what the hell was going on!
The other thing was that my mother turned up for her first visit to Argentina the day before they declared a state of siege. We were at the Malba when they declared a state of siege. Everyone had to leave, and my mother had no real idea what was going on, as we thought we could lie to her. So we managed to get a taxi, go home, and lots of protests and cacerolazos were going on. In the end, when she finally did know what was going on, she went out onto the streets with a frying pan and a wooden spoon! She thought it was great fun…

Do times like that make their way into your music?
Well, economics has! There’s a song I am working on called Satellites which has to do with sovereignty. It’s about what politicians can or can’t do in the face of serious economic problems and civil unrest. That’s a song I probably wouldn’t have written if I hadn’t come to Argentina!

Has anything less obscure inspired you?
One is called A Juggler Out in Traffic who used to juggle on the corner of Salguero and Alcorta. I was watching him one day, then there is Balloon Man, about a guy who walks past our apartment. He is quite picturesque to look at as he carries them on this big cross, swaying back and forth down the street. He’s adorable.
And we have a house in La Pampa so I wrote a song about that, which also touches on economic issues…

Which Argentine musicians are you into?
I made a record with Puente Celeste — everyone in that band is top shelf. I went to see them and asked them if they would help me out on a record I was making a few years ago. I also listen to tango and I like Troilo in particular. I also like Vicentico and Peter Capusotto and Spinetta was really interesting. I’m not a big fan of rock nacional but I guess Spinetta was in his own world. He wrote some absolutely beautiful songs.

For Expat Extra about Richard Shindell’s obsession with taxi cabs, click here.

The three main courses and their saucy variations keep bills simple with just three prices.

This being my second vertical tasting — the first was a most intimate affair led by Federico Benegas Lynch who owns Bodegas Benegas, at which we tried out four versions of the Benegas Lynch Meritage blend from 2002, 2004, 2006 and 2007 — I find that my nose comes on in leaps and bounds when tasting vertically. As long as I am sitting down.

There comes a point I find, as an amateur drinker, where a standard wine-tasting aimed at tourists doesn’t offer much in terms of soaring up the learning curve, but vertical tastings allow a certain fine-tuning if the senses have already been awakened.

Mr. Benegas Lynch was keen for opinions on his blend, and all I could muster was a preference for the older vintage and that I didn’t have much time for the 2004.

Adamant that we tried his wines after they’d been oxygenated for at least an hour, 60 minutes was all that 2004 needed to lose its mineral taste and become something altogether more special. Give a dog a chance, I learnt that day, and not be so quick to pass judgement.

Although François Lurton is usurped in Ian Mount’s The Vineyard at the End of the World by his Frère Jacques — who made wine for a British supermarket at Nicolás Catena’s winery 20 years ago, as Mount recounts, which proved to be an educational and mutually beneficial experience for both Old and New World parties — no matter, he is mentioned several times in what is bound to become a new Bible for wine lovers.

While Bodega Piedra Negra, which the Lurton winery is now known as, has a fresh line in Pinot Grigio, never easy to get hold of in my mind, this vertical tasting was all about three Malbecs.

Named after the black stony soil that lies at the bottom of the Andes next to the wineland, Piedra Negra is drumming up excitement over its Malbec, a well-rounded, deep-purple wine, a classic in its grape category which uses 50 percent Argentine Malbec, 50 percent French Cot. Bringing together Old hands with a grape which has found its niche in the New World is obviously working out well for them, be sure to check it out if you have the chance.

So if all this vertical tasting took place ahead of Malbec World Day, just what was the poison of choice on April 17? Cheap and cheerful was the order, and it was consumed in Abasto.

Also tipping its hat, albeit rather accidentally, to honour the most popular grape planted to make
Argentina’s national beverage is La Viña del Abasto restaurant.

Extremely far removed from being a Peruvian eaterie despite its location, La Viña is a living tribute to the golden age of tango when the thrush still sang his way around the neighbourhood.

Actually, we were gagging for some ceviche that night and accidentally stumbled across this joint, after stumbling out of a gig. Given a choice between a packed restaurant opposite or Viña’s fluoro strip lighting, we went for the latter without rhyme or reason.

Some post-dinner research shows that food critic Fernando Vidal Buzzi is a fan, given that it made the cut of his restaurant guide, which makes it good enough for me. After being distracted and confused by the various wooden chickens sitting on shelves, the food explained itself.

Besides minutas, the menu essentially consists of three items: chivito, chicken and pasta. Of course, there are different sauces to accompany each one (verdeo, bolognese, four cheese), but what is remarkable is that the price is the same for each dish. A whole chivito kid is 90 pesos, a whole chicken 80 pesos and pasta for two 43 pesos.

Eager for a speedy turnaround, we went for mostaccioli a la scarparo, the oval metal dish overflowing.
A simple sauce of tomato, cream, garlic and onion, scarparo lures you into a false sense of dietary security given its tomato base. But it was so very tasty, and the little mustaches were the perfect companion to this delectable dish.

The service was also delightful — yes, by 11.45pm the waiter was keen to leave but he was charming with it, hurrying us along in a friendly way to order before the kitchen closed. And there is nothing like someone serving up food onto your plate — it’s rather intimate and shows the waitstaff has a certain affinity with the food.

We only tucked into wine given the nature of day, and it was a pretty rubbish yet drinkable San Telmo Malbec costing 32 pesos.

But if we’d stuck to soft drinks as is required on the “getting change from 100 pesos” mission at a dinner for two, we would have got 35 pesos back — enough, in fact to include a bottle of vino colapso.

La Viña del Abasto
San Luis 3007, Abasto
Tel: 4963-4890

Photo by Diego Kovacic

Why did you first visit Argentina?
I came here as a ski racer in 1961, and I was ski racing in Bariloche. After the season ended, I went on a trip down to Patagonia and went to Tierra del Fuego and Ushuaia, and got to know a bit of the southern cone. I wasn’t there for very long and was only in Bariloche for 10 days or so, but I was here for close to a month in total that year.
In subsequent years, and by 1963, 1965, 1967, all those years, every two or three years at most, I came back for climbing expeditions, mountain kayaking or just visiting friends I had made.
Eventually we had a business in Argentina, producing clothes and Scottish-type sweaters.
Then in 1989, I bought some country in Chile and I came to live there in 1990. I continued to live there until about 10 years ago, and then I started to split my life, with my wife, with half the year in Argentina and half the year in Chile.
These were the areas I knew best, despite travelling around the world.

Where do you live in Argentina?
We bought some country in Iberá, which is in Corrientes, in 1997 and we started a conservation project there. That’s grown and become more complex over the years, and we’ve been working hard so that we can donate that to the nation as a national park, if and when the nation and the province see fit to do that.

There has been a lot of back and forth, it seems.
I’ve also been living in California for all those years, but was always coming back for climbing. In 1968, I did a new route on the Fitzroy, and I returned for other climbing expeditions to the Patagonian Andes and for white-water kayaking. I undertook the first ascents of some Chilean rivers and also Argentine rivers. I could do all those things in the US too but here was unchartered territory: rivers that hadn’t been kayaked, mountains that hadn’t been climbed, so that was interesting.
I also had friends here and liked to visit them, then they would visit me in the US. So when I finally wanted to move from California to some rural area, I bought a farm in Chile, which was a capricious decision that sealed my destiny, and I started work on conservation projects there, which led to conservation projects in Argentina.
My wife and I have worked on a national park in Santa Cruz. We both had conservation foundations, husband-and-wife efforts, and we donated the entire park which became a national park about six years ago. We are just dedicated to making national parks and that’s what we put our efforts into and what we like to do!

What does that involve?
There’s plenty of work to be done everywhere, as conservationists. Humans have over-appropriated the landscape so it’s good to get some of it out of private hands and back into the national heritage of protected park lands. Argentina has park systems and has more than 100 — Chile is a little bit behind but not much — and they have created a lot of parks in both countries. But they could create a lot more and they need a lot more if there is any hope to get the national territory into some kind of ecological balance and harmony.
Everybody knows that we are all immersed in an enormous environmental crisis worldwide, and Argentina and Chile don’t escape that! So that’s what the effort is, made by millions of environmentalists around the world. It’s a growing, and what I consider, an unstoppable movement.
Environmental laws have been getting stricter over the past 50 years. And I know predicting the future is dangerous but you can usually tell from the past what it is coming up in the future. We all proceed with the thought that it is a good idea to make environmental laws stricter and get more land into conservation to get the different ecosystems working with each other, which compose the ecosphere. So it would be prudent and wise to make stricter laws, and if it turns out if we are wrong, then it doesn’t matter! We had a good idea anyway! But if we don’t do it, the consequences could be terrible. But if we do, we could save the world from disaster. Or it could have just been a precautionary effort.

When did you move to Argentina?
We bought some property in 1997 but we didn’t come to start living here until 2011. From then we split our time. In the summer months we tend to be down in Chile and in winter in Corrientes.
We found the land by asking some conservation colleagues if they had some places the movement was looking at, which perhaps needed some projects to help foment park lands. And that’s how we found it.
It was easy to purchase. It was for sale. We bought it! We bought a small piece in an enormous reserve of 1.3 million hectares. There’s some provincial land and then private land, which is owned by nearly 1,800 owners. And one of them had a big ranch for sale, 50,000 hectares, and we bought that, with the clear intention of using it for conservation purposes, and provide more habitats for all those creatures which need a lot of space.

What species are endangered in Corrientes?
First, they have some species that aren’t endangered but simply aren’t there any more. We’re working on bringing them back. Recently we captured one Pampas deer outside of the conservation areas, which are being squeezed out by these monstrous industrial tree plantations which are upsetting the ecosystems, something terrible. That deer will go back to its natural habitat. There are very few Pampas deer, some in San Luis and in the centre of Buenos Aires province. We’re attempting to rescue this population and put them in a place where they can thrive and prosper.
We’ve transferred a few groups so far and hope that over the next five years they will be able to expand their own numbers themselves. We do it one by one, and it’s a big job. We have a team of veterinarians and biologists who try to get the animals used to the tractor, which would normally scare them, so that they realize they won’t come to any harm.
Someone goes out on that tractor with anesthetic darts to put them to sleep, they treat the animal and then carry it to a small airplane and fly it to a pre-release pen until there are enough animals to be released in little groups and have self-confidence in numbers.
In 2010 we had five new-borns from the group which was released first — they were all healthy. And if you work out the numbers on the back of an envelope, you can work out that you’ll get 1,000 of them.

What do you do on a daily basis in Corrientes?
I work a lot, unfortunately, in my office, but I also get out and around to see all our different places as I have a little plane. We’re down to just one now, but we have one cattle ranch as we have been selling them piece by piece. Also I deal with park infrastructure and building public access to park lands, and build up conservation consciousness by getting young people out there. People can’t protect what they don’t appreciate, so we have lots of eco-tourists, which is a boost for the local economy, which until now, has been based on extraction. That means pines or rice or meat which aren’t thought of as extractive industries but they are, extracting minerals from the system. And these things need to be thought about more carefully as the wildlife doesn’t thrive.
We have three productive farms that have both animals, grains and orchards so we work on the productive side as well as the conservation side.
We’re just trying to sow a little grain of sand into the field of knowledge of good management practices, such as pastoral agriculture.

Tell me about your farms.
They are very interesting and I don’t think there are any others like it in Argentina, or indeed, in the rest of the world. It’s a high-diversity farm and in Argentina you hear a million times that the agriculture has become a massive soy monoculture and this is the opposite pole.
It has many species — we have 15 different crops in the orchards, high-diversity pasture grasses and will soon have horticulture of aromatic and medicinal plants. The farm is layered on top of itself on these crops, providing a big agricultural diversity, which, mixed with the wildlife diversity means we are attempting to demonstrate that the health of the farm depends on its soils.
Argentina is blanketing its good soils by having a huge chemicals fiesta and its real wealth is being degraded by the massive industrial agriculture.

How easy it is to give land to provincial governments?
They want to make parks and we can only be an accessory to that. But we can suggest making a park, they have to propose it. They may or may not take up your suggestion. They then have to seek jurisdiction of the prescribed through the nation so the national parks administration can go and set up a park. They’ve done it 36 times and have a whole string of parks.

What would you do as president?
Well, there should be a rethinking to agricultural policy. We are farmers and I see that policy could be a lot better, here and in the US. How can a nation discourage industrial chemical agriculture and move toward a holistic, organic, ecological model of agriculture and preserve its soils. Because Argentina is no better than its soils.
Its living of its inherited past of beautiful soils and is potentially the agricultural powerhouse of Latin America. But it’s ruining it soils and it’s worrisome if you understand the importance of soils. I worry about that, and about the future, and I’m a foreigner worrying about Argentine soils as I don’t like seeing them degraded!
It’s one of the most important issues that faces Argentina’s future and there, government policies comes into play. How can government be from the industries to pursue a path of soil health is for me, one of the great challenges.
If I could be the king of the country, I would put in rigorous policies on how farming is being conducted, and allow the country to become a 100-percent organically managed agricultural sector in 20 years. There would be laws and transitions, and build up a generation of farmers with good minds. I would set up a goal to look after Argentina’s number-one asset, from which its wealth is derived and its future prosperity depends on.
Erosion, for example, is out of control in Entre Ríos province. It’s a hilly place which is prone to erosion and the top soils are flowing down into rivers.

Published in the Buenos Aires Herald on April 22, 2012
Photo courtesy of Doug Tompkins

The biggest indie film festival in Latin America, Bafici, now in its 14th year, stands for “Buenos Aires Independent and International Film Festival” and gives first-time as well as more established directors a chance to shine in front of a keen and knowledgeable audience.

For the rest of this story, please visit The Real Argentina.

Photo courtesy of Gobierno de la Ciudad de Buenos Aires.

Doing it in the park, doing it after dark… And on the street, in a cab, at the bar, on the bar, on the subte, by the swimming pool, definitely on the dance floor, in restaurants, or pushed up against lampposts – tonsil tango is contagious.

In Buenos Aires, it’s not just frisky teens or new couples who are busy smooching – everyone’s at it. You want our advice? Avert your eyes or get used to stumbling across public displays of affection (PDAs) around every cobbled street corner.

For the rest of this story, please check out Time Out Buenos Aires Autumn/Winter 2012.