You Can’t Stop the Beat!!!

You can’t stop the BEAT!!!

I slept late.  Very, very late.  

My knee had bothered me all night.  

Luckily, we had nothing planned until 7:00.  

I slept late, moved from the bed, downstairs to the couch, so that I could elevate my knee.

Eventually I joined Adam at the pool.  

It was a beautiful day, and the pool was warm.  It was supposed to be heated but all week it had been on the cool side of heated.  Today, it felt like a warm bath.  

We got some sun, swam for a while, till the ache in my knee drove me upstairs.  

Back to the couch I went. 

Adam joined me, changed clothes, and went off in search of a suitcase.  He wants to take home Argentine wines, because they are stupidly inexpensive here, and terribly delicious.  

I hang out on the couch dozing.  

He shows up around 5:30, with no suitcase, but he did bring lunch.  I won’t go into what he brought back, but it could have fed 40 people.  He was trying to understand the menu and got confused and came back with a shopping bag full of food.  We eat about 1/16 of it and then get ready for the evening.  

Chef is picking us up at 6:15 and we have an appointment at 7:00.  

We get there at 6:45, and Chef goes to park.  

We get buzzed in, and up the stairs we go, and we find ourselves, in the first sommelier school in Argentina.  It was opened 20 years ago, by a woman chef worked with in his 20’s.  He’d reached out to her, to say hi, but to also arrange a wine tasting for all of us. 

The owner, Marina appears, and we are given a quick tour.  The space is amazing.  We are led down a short hall and find ourselves in one of 4 tasting rooms.  We all chat and enjoy the conversation and then the tasting starts.  

In all, it was about 3 hours, and we tasted 4 wines.  It could have been much shorter, but we kept getting off on other subjects.  Mine and Adam’s history.  Chatting about the restaurant business in the states.  Discussing hospitality in Buenos Aires.  Discussing the regions and areas that produce wine in Argentina.  We had a long discussion about the drinking habits of the people in Buenos Aires, and it seems wine consumption is down significantly in the past 20 years.  The history of the school but mostly, it was a wonderful way to spend the evening, while eating snacks and drinking wine.  

It was also very educational, for someone who needs to know about Argentine wines on a day-to-day basis. 

Around 9:30 we started to wrap things up as Chef, Adam and I tried to figure out where we were having dinner.  It’s 10:00 on Thursday night, we don’t have a reservation and after the fiasco from the night before we want to know that we are getting good food.  

As we are discussing this, Marina gets on her phone and starts texting friends.  In 30 seconds, we have a reservation at a Peruvian restaurant not far from our house.  

We all kiss and say our goodbyes, and we are off.  

Adam and I are expecting a tiny little restaurant on a corner somewhere.  

When we pull up, it’s like a night club.  There are lights.  There are a million people.  There is music.  It is a definitely a scene.  It’s 10:30 at night and clearly, they are just getting started.  

The restaurant is called La Mar.  https://lamarcebicheria.com.ar/nueva/index.html

Chef goes to the host stand, and it’s obviously, they are expecting us.  We are taken to our table right in the middle of the action.  

The restaurant is amazing.  There is a bar built around a hug tree in on the patio.  There are seats around another huge tree.  There are tables everywhere and there are probably 30 or 40 people waiting to be seated.  

Within 2 seconds of being seated, the General Manager stops by to welcome us, to let us know if we need anything to ask for him.  He’s off.  The server arrives and as always, flat or still.  

We order water and cocktails.  They arrive. 

Then chef speaks to the server in Spanish.  He orders an assortment of appetizers for us and then a seafood mixed grill.  

Did I mention that this is a Peruvian restaurant?  Neither Adam nor I have ever dined at a Peruvian restaurant.  It is 99.999% seafood.  Of a million different varieties.  

First, we get a sushi roll, with shrimp, avocado, and mango.

That is followed by a mixed seafood ceviche with the catch of the day, squid, octopus, shrimp, red onion and sweet potatoes.   Then next was the catch of the day, avocado, capers, cilantro, leche de tigre, which is the citrus base, spicy marinade used to cure fish in ceviche.  

This is followed up by a seafood mix grill on a large grill.  It had octopus, the catch of the day (they never told us what it was) shrimp, scallops, calamari etc.  It was smoky and delicious.  

The meal was terrific, and Adam and I are sold on Peruvian food.  

Three or four days before this, over dinner, we were chatting about places that might be fun to explore in Buenos Aires.  Chef mentioned a secret bar called Uptown.  He had shown us videos of it, and it looked crazy.  It’s called Uptown, because you must take a “subway” to the Bronx to get there.  He had no idea where it was, but we chatted about it a couple of times.

What would you know that when Adam and I were waiting for Chef to join us from parking the car, we kept seeing people coming up from below the street via a set of stairs.  I sent Adam to investigate, and we’d found the bar. 

http://www.uptownba.com

After dinner, the GM escorted us to the entrance, and 30 seconds later, the three of us were standing in the middle of night club, with music pounding, a crowd of people, and we were clearly older by 50 years.  

That being said, we had fun.  We pushed our way to the bar and tried to get drinks.  It took   a while because they were making craft cocktails, to order.  Chef finally ordered, we get our drinks and wander around.  Into the library.  Out to watch the DJ.  It’s a mix of men and women but it really appeared to be 1/3 women, 2/3 men.  And it was clear, that a number of the men were couples, which was great to see.  

We stayed for a little longer than one drink and then called it a night.  

It’s now going on 2:00 and I’m beat, and my knee is starting to crank.  

When we got home, I realized it was way too late to start a post, so we went straight to bed.  I was asleep by 3:00 a.m.

Me waiting to be buzzed in to the Sommelier School.

Chef and I waiting for the tasting to start.

The wall of wine bottles in the lobby.

Adam checking out the bottles.

The tasting room.

Wine storage behind the tasting room.

Chef admiring the inventory.

Marina pours the next taste.

Marina was presented with a cookbook to thank her for the tasting.

The restaurant. The bar is wrapped around the large tree in the middle.

Pisco Sours.

A delicious Manhattan. Accompanied by a tiny bucket of ice, which is always the case if you want ice for your drink.

Sushi. Avocado and Shrimp.

Ceviche with Sweet potato. Not as strange as it sounds.

More ceviche.

A grilled seafood, Mix Grill. All the fishes.

The secret entrance.

Headed uptown to The Bronx.

Chef in the subway tunnel.

Adam and I waiting for the uptown train.

We jumped the turnstile because we couldn’t find our metro cards.

The outside of the subway car.

Inside the subway cars.

Chef waiting to order us drinks.

The staff doing shots instead of making our drinks. Adam discovered that they change the bar staff every time they do a shot.

Adam and Chef waiting for drinks.

A corner of the library.

It’s a privilege to pee!!!

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I’m behind, I’m behind, I’m behind.

We got home very late last night (Thursday) and I came home and went straight to bed.  More about that tomorrow. 

Let’s get back to Wednesday. 

I wake up Wednesday and my knee has exploded.  Worse than it’s been since it started flaring up.  On a pain scale of 1 to 10 it is a 12+.  

By the time I make it downstairs, I’m near tears.  

I am on the couch with my knee elevated, with a Ziploc bag full of ice on it and trying to get comfortable, to no avail.  At this point the pain is so intense, that it feels like it’s spreading down my shin, like shin splints.  

It’s SOOOOO bad.  

I tell Adam that I’m not going anywhere.  At least not till later.  

He tells me that he is going to go look for a suitcase, get us lunch, and will be right back.  We’ve decided on pizza for lunch.  It’s about 3:45 when he leaves.  

He is gone about 30 minutes when Chef texts to say that he is done with his errands and can pick us up at any time.  Like now. 

I suggest 5:00 and he agrees.  

I text Adam and tell him he needs to come home soon as Chef is going to be picking us up at 5:00.  

Adam gets home at 4:35 with a pizza in tow.  We both have one slice, then start to get ready.  I limp up the stairs, shower and get dressed.  It is not fun.

We make it downstairs at 5:05.  I let Chef know that I am NOT up for walking today.  

We suggest we stop at a bar called Tres Monos.  Three Monkeys.  A cocktail bar near our house.  

Chef has a better idea.  He wants to go to one of the ritziest hotels in town to look around and have cocktails.  

I like this because we initially chatted about me staying there when we were first looking to book my stay.  

Off we go.  

The hotel is called Faena.  Faena.com

It is a 5-star Forbes rated hotel, started in Buenos Aires.  They now have another location in Miami.  

To say it’s over the top would be an understatement.  

I didn’t take any photos of the staff as it felt rude.  

But, when we arrived, we were greeted by a man in a top hat and white cape who welcomed us to the hotel.  It felt a lot like Disney World.  

Later there was a woman, hosting at the cabaret, who had a tiny hat perched on the side of her head and she was wearing a skin tight red dress with heels.  

We go in and the space is insane.  Beautiful and undeniably original.  

The entry way is all stone with plants that leads to a VERY long hallway with a long red carpet with benches that are illuminated from below.  

We wander down the hall, taking it all in.  There is a shoe store that would have been a favorite of Carrie Bradshaw. 

That restrooms and not hidden, but if you didn’t know where to look, you’d never find them.  They are all marble inside.  

Chef stops by their fine dining restaurant, which is closed at that time to see if we can look at the dining room.  

It is exquisite.

After wandering around, we go into the bar to get a drink.  We are offered seats inside, where no one is sitting or poolside.

It’s a beautiful day, so we take poolside.  

Almost every, lounge chair is filled with people sitting by the pool.  Not so much sunning as they are drinking and socializing.  

We are seated at a 4-top at the shallow end of the pool.  

We order drinks and snacks, and people watch for the next 90 minutes. 

The staff is as beautiful as the pool.  

Mostly though, we are just enjoy the evening air, as the sun sets and people begin to leave.  

I know I’ve mentioned it, but they are permanently on Daylight Saving Time, so it’s 7:30 and it is still daylight out.  

Finally, we pay out tab, and take one more look around the hallway.

Now, the really formal dining room is open and is white and red.  Stunning.  

Then we peak into the cabaret and it’s ALL red.  No photos but it’s a great space.  

With that we take our leave and are on our way to find dinner.  

This is the tricky part. 

We haven’t made reservations.   And we are not sure where to go.  

Chef texts some friends including his mom and we end up down at the seaport.  

We’ve been given two options.  I make the decision based on the name.  

I won’t mention it here, because I don’t want to give a bad public review.  But it is the 2^nd worst meal we had.  

I didn’t say anything night of but turns out Chef agreed.  

It reminded me of a mall restaurant.  Or a tourist restaurant.  

The space was huge.  Easily seating over 200 people.  The lighting was bad.  The dining room we sat in had atrium windows ala Wendy’s 1986.  

If I’d been a server at this restaurant, I’d have been 15 years younger than the next youngest server. 

For a tourist restaurant, the prices were reasonable, and the food wasn’t bad.  It was all just fine.  Kind of like Olive Garden is just fine.  Or Outback is just fine.  Nothing is wrong with it, until you compare it to the 5-star meals we’ve been getting. 

This was also the first restaurant we ate at where the food was served from the plate it was on, to the plate you’d eat it from.  All done with one hand, while holding the plate on a tray in the other.  

That being said, the service was fine, we had a great time, and it was something to experience.  

Later, I told Adam it was like eating at The Big Texas in Amarillo.  Great to do once, but not necessary to do every time you visit.  

With that, I hobbled back to the car, Chef dropped us at our apartment, and that was my night.  

A view of the pool at Faena.

The crown in the pool.

The deck at the pool.

The marble sink in the men’s restroom.

You can walk completely around it.

Pate!!!

Chandeliers over the bar.

VERY expensive shoes in this store.

Large dining table in the meat focused restaurant.

A better view of the crown.

The bench in which you sit in order to enjoy the view of the crown.

Even the urinals are a work of art at Faena.

Chandelier over the bar.

The more formal restaurant done in White’s and Reds. Every table has its own rug.

You can’t tell from the photos bur the unicorn has red glowing eyes.

I love the hallway. And the benches lit from beneath.

The restroom doors. You’d never notice them.

Neon next to the cabaret.

A photo of Eva Peron advertising shoes.

Architecture near the seaport.

The red buildings are like the mills in Biddeford that have been redeveloped for retail/dining.

An evening stroll.

The high rises in downtown.

Chef and I enjoying the evening.

Full rack of beef ribs smoking on the Asador.

All the apps again. Blood sausage, sweet breads and chorizo.

They had fried cheese on the menu. It desperately needed ranch dressing.

GOAT its what’s for dinner.

Dessert. The glass is a vanilla type ice cream with a shot of whiskey. It was delicious.

A first. The urinals had a container with little tissues to wipe your peep when you were finished.

What knows what pleasure was in store if I only had Argentine coins.

We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun!!! 4 to be exact.

I’d like to speak to the Manager!!!

I was up late last night. Between the throbbing of the knee and the writing, the formatting photos and being tired, it took a while to get to bed.

When I woke up, Adam wanted to know why I didn’t post before I came to bed.

Funny story.

Facebook doesn’t like it when I upload 50 photos. So it sits there, churning.

What I have discovered is the photos are there, but I can’t see them, unless I publish the post that isn’t quite ready to be published. So I hit publish, change the audience to just me and finish editing.

Last night, I never changed the audience back to public.

Whoops.

So that my friends is why you didn’t see a post this morning.

Now on to yesterday.

I have been up late almost every night since we got here. As a result, I’ve been sleeping very late.

As Adam pointed out there will be no jet lag as our schedules haven’t changed.

What’s interesting, is that Adam has been sleeping very late as well. At home he is usually up by 10:00 no matter how late we go to bed. Yesterday it was 12:30 and he was still beside me.

Around 1:00 he told me he was going to the pool.

I said great, turned over and went back to sleep.

At 2:00, I got up, got dressed and joined him at the pool.

I was there for about 60 minutes. It was warm, but the wind was blowing fierce, so it wasn’t super comfortable.

Around 3:30 we went back upstairs.

Adam went to get lunch.

I’ve been forbidden to tell you where he went, but it starts with a B and ends with a G.

It was delicious and perfectly hit the spot.

We’d just finished eating, when Chef texted that he’d be there to pick us up around 5:00.

We showered, got dressed and were downstairs promptly at 5:00.

Chef picked us up and we decided to try and go to Evita’s grave in the center of town.

Every time, I think about it, I hear the end of the play, about the body disappearing and the pedestal being started but never finished.

We get to the cemetery, park and walk to the entrance to discover that it closes at 5:30. It’s 5:32.

Damn it.

Chef checks in to find out the hours etc. and then we decide to walk a bit.

At the time my knee is okay. Not great, but okay.

We end up stopping for a rest at a hotel who’s name I don’t remember. The lobby is old school. Luxury. Masculine. We get seated and order grown up drinks. A Manhattan for me, which made me very happy. It was also very cold and VERY good.

We stay for about an hour then get moving again.

I’m not sure of the name of the area of town we are in, but it is very wealthy. The stores are Hermes and Rolex. The houses are mansions, and we pass several consulates. including that of the Pope and the Vatican.

We walk buy the French Embassy, which is stunning. The US embassy is some barricade, brown concrete monstrosity that looks like it was from the Cold War.

At the French Embasssy, we turn right and head down the hill.

We arrive at the Four Seasons.

They have a restaurant, that is called Nuestro Secreto, Our Secret.

It’s not really a secret, but it is on the patio on the 2nd floor, by the pool.

It is also gorgeous. It’s the most formal place we’ve eaten yet, and the food was perfection.

We are greeted by the most amazing androgynous person, in a green suit who is wonderful. They are nice, and we are pretty sure was the manager on duty. We all wanted to be their friend.

One thing we noticed, when we sat down, was that we were not presented with menus. We were given a QR code to scan. It might be because I am old, but I don’t like it. Not at all.

I want to hold the menu. Study it. Take a photo of it. Plus, what if I forget my phone, or don’t have a phone, or didn’t pay for the service in a foreign country. Hmmm.

The meal starts as they all do. Sparkling or Flat.

Chef and Adam always get Flat.

I always get sparkling, or as they say, aqua con gas.

We order apps. They tend to be the same every time as Chef is getting a feel for how others prepare the food we do. Blood sausage, sweet breads, empanadas.

We order entrees. Chef gets a ribeye. Adam and I are going to share the skirt steak.

30 seconds after the server leaves, Chef sees a long bone short ribs being put on the grill. He calls the server over and asks if they were a special. She says not, they are on the menu.

He goes on the realize that on the menu, they were referred to as braised short ribs. And these are clearly not braised. They are slow cooked over an open grill, but not braised. He immediately changes his order to the short ribs.

The server also offeres to show us where they are cooked. She leads us to the patio and there is an ASADOR, off to the side, but still near everything, where whole racks of beef ribs are being smoked. It’s a beautiful sight.

We get back to the table as the apps are being served.

Everything is delicious.

By now the restaurant is filling up and getting busier. There are also seats on the patio served from this kitchen. We are all admiring how efficient the two men in the kitchen are at executing service for the restaurant.

Apps are cleared. Entrees are served.

The long bone short rib is divine. Smoky. Tender. Falling off the bone, melt in your mouth goodness. The skirt steak is tender enough to cut it with a fork. Everything is excellent.

We literally eat everything in sight, and our plates are cleared.

Chef gets up to go to the restroom we think, and we contemplate dessert.

Chef comes back, dessert and coffee is ordered and Chef tells us that he had spoken to the chef and asked him to come by the table when he was not busy.

We are eating dessert when the other Chef arrives. He introduces himself and my Chef begins to speak with him in Spanish.

I now knownwhat was being said.

Chef was asking him if he’d be interested in coming to America to work at our restaurant. Seriously, the chef from this restaurant was excellent. Chef eventually gave him his card, told him he’d be in town until Sunday and that if he was interested would like to speak with him and his co-worker about working in the states.

Hands were shaken and off he went.

Who knows if anything will come of it, but the offer was made.

We finish up. We pay.

And then I need to stop at the restroom.

When I come out, I can’t find my boyfriend and that’s because he and Chef and have wondered into Le Mansion, that is part of the Four Seasons. I join them and the home is stunning. Large, ornate and beautiful. We stay just long enough to not get in trouble then make our way to the street.

Then Chef does the kindest thing ever, he tells me I can wait and he’ll walk back and get the car.

Seriously, I could have fallen over. By this time, my knee is on fire again.

Adam and I sit in the lobby and admire how awful the lighting is, and how the Xmas tree looks like it was decorated by the maintenance team.

Then we move outside and in about 5 minutes are picked up.

And 15 minutes later we are home.

Me trying to break into a cemetery.

Chef trying to break out of the cemetery.

The lobby bar of a hotel, where we stopped for drinks. I can’t remember the name of it. Adam loved the red jackets, I expected Dolly Levi to appear at the top of a flight of stairs at any moment.

My first Manhattan in BA.

Architecture along our walk.

This is definitely haunted.

A beautiful Entry to a single family home.

The Pope’s house in Buenos Aires. And embassy.

The French Embassy.

Adam and me in front of the French Embassy.

La Mansion

Horse statues playing in the water in front of the 4 Seasons.

A Christmas Tree made of horse shoes.

The atrium of the dining room we were eating in.

A full rack of long bone short ribs being cooked in the Asador.

More long bones.

The usual suspect. Octopus, sweet breads and empanadas.

Yumminess.

Chef is very happy.

Seriously, melt in your mouth goodness.

Finally a good skirt steak.

I never get tired of coffee here.

The grand staircase at the mansion.

One of 6 fireplaces we saw.

The lighting in the lobby is as white as the oscars.

The Christmas Tree looks like it was decorated by the maintenance team.

Horse statues at night, playing in the water.

Everybody Hurts!!!

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

We’ve been here so long by now, that we feel like residents.  

I’m exhausted when the alarm finally goes off. I could not sleep. My knee had ached all night, and I was still awake around 5:30. 

I am going to struggle to get through the day.

So.  

Up and at it.  

And down to the corner café for coffee. 

The day was beautiful. The rain is gone. The sky is blue.  

We find seats on the sidewalk, and enjoy the air, and the city scape.  

We order two flat whites and a Danish.  

The service is better today, not because of language so much as skill.

We enjoy the coffee, while we spend some time catching up on texts and messages from home.  

We also, solidify our plan for the day.  

The only issue we are going to have today is that my knee is on fire. It’s throbbing, and aching, and I can’t get comfortable. But as I told someone today, I breathe and push through it.  

I order another flat white and we are finishing it up, when Chef drives us. I’d told him where to meet us.  

A couple of people have reached out about who Chef is. He is the owner of my restaurant, and as is quite common, most of our staff calls him Chef, which is traditional in most restaurants. I’ve always called the chef Chef, barely using their first name. The same is true now.  

Chef arrives and we are off to lunch.  

His son is also with him, and this is his last day in BA. He’s flying home later tonight.  

We drive to a restaurant about 15 minutes away. Chef is interested in it, because it has a butcher shop attached to it. This is something he has discussed doing in our restaurant, with the apartment that is attached to us.  

We go in. It’s 12:30. We are only a handful people in the dining room.  

We get seated. The server arrives and he is super cute. Very nice smile. Genuinely nice.  

I’ll get to the food in a moment.

What this server lived, while we were there, is absolutely every server’s nightmare.  

It was clear that they were short staffed. By 1:30 the restaurant is full. He has tables in the dining room, in the atrium area next to the dining room, and on the sidewalk patio, that is at least 9,000 steps away. At least 12 or so tables.  

I watched him as he moved from table to table. He kept his composure but he was struggling.  

He took our order.

And never came back. I do not fault him. The restaurant should have stopped seating people. You always seat to your abilities. NOT to your capacity.  

Now on to the food.  

The food all looked amazing. Seriously.  

But to date, it’s the worst meal we’ve had.  

That being said, if it had been our first meal in BA, we’d have raved about it. This was an 8 when everything else has been a 10+.

We share everything.  

The sausages were a hit. Especially the pork sausage with jalapeno served with hummus.

Provolito, which is grilled provolone.  

Grilled mushrooms with egg.

Steak tartar.  

Blood sausage. (Have any of you looked it up yet?)

We pace ourselves with the first course, because we all have second courses coming.  

We are sitting there waiting to be cleared when the mains arrive.  

The table is full. The server’s hands are full. Everyone is looking at everyone. Finally, we start to stack plates, and someone appears to start taking the plates.  

Finally, our appetizers are cleared. Our second courses are served.  

We begin.  

First, the steaks are tough. LIKE, very, very, very tough. Both Adam’s, and Chef’s son’s almost impossible to cut. I’m sharing with Adam.  

However, Chef’s pork matambra was the best. It’s a pork flank that we can’t get at home and is fucking delicious. Cooked to perfection.

We poke around at our food. We snack on the sides.  

Finally, the waiter arrives again. We let him know we are through. Our plates are cleared. We order coffee.  

We don’t see him again, till Chef asks another server for our check.  

We pay. We leave. We laugh about the experience.  

As I say, they can’t all be home runs.  

However, the space was quite nice. They were busy, so perhaps it was just an off day. It happens to the best of us.  

We walk to the car and begin a search for ice cream.  

We drive around a bit, find the place we are looking for, but we can’t find parking.  

The afternoon is getting away from us so we agree to call it a day.  

Chef drops us off at the mall. It’s a big mall. Anchored by a grocery store the size of Texas on the first floor.  

We wonder around the store for about 30 minutes. Looking at wine, American booze prices, meat, refrigerators, dishware (chef buys our chimi cups and empanada boards at this store).  

We then head upstairs.  

They are mostly smaller shops, like the kind you’d find in the middle of an American mall. A little bit of everything. Kids clothes. Women’s boutique. Clothes for skinny men. A wine shop. Swarovski crystals. A very tiny Apple store, a couple of salons, a barber for kids, a shop selling high end grills, a furniture store, the usual.  

We cover the three upper floors then head to the food court.  

This is not an American food court.  

As told to us, when the mall was built the food court was leased to one chef who runs all the outlets. It’s a huge space, including an outdoor space.  

You can buy all things Argentinian food there. Pizza, sandwiches, gelato, and an assortment of things I don’t remember. We walk around looking and Adam decides I need a rest. So, we get a table, he orders coffee for the two of us. 

We sit there for about 90 minutes. People watching. Chatting. Catching up on social media.  

The coffee is great. And it’s nice to sit.  

Then. We were off to our Marienda reservation.  

Marienda literally translates to snack. Not to be confused with a Mariendo which is a husband. Of course I suppose you could have a mariendo that is a marienda.  

I’ve been waiting 24 hours to make that joke.  

In Argentina, there are 4 meal periods throughout the day.

A small breakfast.  

Then lunch.

Then around 5:00 the merienda. A light snack with coffee and avocado toast or muffin.

Then around 9:00 everyone eats dinner.  

I ask about little kids and yes, they get coffee with cream for marienda and they stay up late for dinner.  

Adam, in his wisdom, made reservations for a merianda today for us at the Casa Cavia.  

casacavia.com

This experience more than made up for lunch.  

First we had to get there.

It was about a 15 minute walk.  

I pushed through, but it was not fun.  

We arrive and are greeted by a very cute host, who I thought for a second was going to give us NYC host attitude. He gave us a, ONE MOMENT PLEASE, along with a gesture of his hand.

But in 10 seconds, it was quite the opposite and he was very sweet.  

He showed us to our table, which was on a little porch, outside, looking into the atrium area.  

It was beautiful.  

We are greeted and order water.

Always for me, aqua con gas.  

Always for Adam, still.  

The server comes back and is very sweet. Answering our questions and guiding us through the menu. She speaks English great.  

We order drinks. A bourbon drink for me. My first bourbon in 4 days. Adam orders a bottle of bubbles that I will help him with.  

The drinks arrive and we order.  

Marienda is supposed to be a snack, the marienda for two.  

We ordered what we thought was going to be a snack.

Then all the food arrived.  

There was avocado toast.  

Another type of toast with cheese.  

There were scones with jam, a creamy butter and dulce de leche.

There was a pear tart which was delicious.

There was a flourless chocolate cookie, delicious.  

Two cups of coffee.  

We were set.  

We dug in.

The area was full of people, so it was nice to watch the interactions. The American couple who went to four different tables, before they decided to sit where they were supposed to sit in the first place. The elderly lady, who broke her glass on the table. The manager who flitted from table to table, smoking with each table, and then moving on. The foreign man who was with his pregnant wife but checked out the voluptuous blond as he was walking behind his wife. There was the equally stunning man and woman who sat near us, and then 30 minutes later an equally stunning older pair of ladies walk in and it’s clear this girl’s mother and grandmother were joining with the 3-year-old. The older ladies were beautiful.

Our reservation was at 5:30. We sat down a little after 5:00. The last reservation was at 6:00. At 6:45, a busser came by to ask us if we needed any more food, we replied no and the check was promptly dropped 5 minutes later. A very courteous way to keep people moving.

We paid promptly, and were on our way. 

Thus began the worse part of the day for me.  

It was a 26 minute walk from the restaurant to our apartment, along a beautiful park, the zoo and lots of things to look at.  

We started and I knew immediately, it was not going to be fun. However, I was determined to not complain or ruin the day. We took it slow. Stopped several times. I was getting nauseous by the time we got into the elevator to head to our apartment.  

I collapsed on the couch.

Adam brought me water con gas, and Advil. I spent the next three hours with my foot propped on the back of the couch. Around 11:00 I got up to finally start writing. My knee felt better.  

Only sleep and rest would determine what the next day would bring.

Me, Chef, his son about to go in for lunch.

When you order a lemonade you get the whole pitcher.

Neon showing the cuts of the cow.

The sausages were our favorite.

Proveleto and mushrooms with egg.

Steak tartar with frites.

Tartar, proveleto, and mushrooms.

The food has arrived, but someone, not me, attacked the blood sausage before the camera ate.

The entrees have arrived.

The pork was delicious.

A sweet potato.

Burata and tomato salad.

The sausage was served with hummus.

More app photos.

The Vino Vas good.

The food court. Every counter is a different food or drink.

Coffee and booze bar.

The view at the entry to Casa Cavia.

A view from the porch where we were sitting.

The walls reminded me of the Gallery at my restaurant.

An oasis in the middle of the big city.

My first bourbon drink in 4 days.

The snacks have arrives.

Bubbles!

We’ve just paid the check.

The coffee really is amazing here.

It’s pear. It’s delicious. That’s all you need to know.

A view of one of the dining rooms in the house.

Singing in the Rain!!!

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

It’s late on New Year’s Eve.

5:00 a.m. to be exact.

I hit publish on a blog post.

I copy and paste into a Facebook post.

I shower and climb into bed.

It’s 5:30.

The sun is still not up. We love that Argentina stays on Daylight Saving Time all yea. It was still light here at 8:30 tonigh.

I plug in my phone. I turn off the light.

I prop my knee on my pillow…

…and the next thing I know it’s 2:00 p.m.

I am groggy. My boyfriend is still next to me. This is strange, because he never sleeps that late. I can hear him breathing.

I can also hear the rain on the window next to us. It sounds like it’s pouring, but the blackout shades are pulled and I’m not getting up to check.

I roll over, get comfortable…

…the next thing I know it’s 4:00 p.m.

Adam is still next to me. It is still raining. Hard.

He is awake, looking at his phone. I grunt good morning and start to wake up.

Around 4:30 we move downstairs. It is pouring. Weather.com says it will stop around 6:30.

We decide to wait it out.

We watch as the rain lands on the deck, while we look at our phones.

I spend much of that time, trying to find a place for dinner. It’s New Year’s Day and everything appears closed. I start at the first entry on Trip Advisor in the Palermo area of BA and look for anything open.

Not open today. On a 3-week vacation, which sounds familiar. Closed. Has no website, just a link to Facebook, and that has no information. The same, only Instagram. Broken link. Website has expired. Ugh.

Adam has better luck. He’s looking for reservations for tomorrow night. He finds a place for a Marienda. (Tune in tomorrow). We book it, although he has to sign up for What’s App to do so.

6:30 comes and goes and it is still raining. Weather.com says it will stop at 8:30 now.

Fuck.

We remind ourselves that we were once New Yorkers.

Ain’t no rain gonna stop us.

We shower and head out. It’s about 7:00 now.

We wander down the street, walking under the canopy of trees that line a lot of the streets here. What would you know, the coffee shop on the corner is open. And a little busy.

We find a table inside, one of the few open and get settled. It feels nice to be up and about.

The server comes by, he looks 15. He is clearly overwhelmed. We order waters and coffees.

He comes back with those things, and we try to order a croissant. It was much harder than it should have been. We end up getting avocado toast.

This exchange prompted us to finally download Google Translate. Finally.

The food arrives and we sit there, and chat, and trade stories, and discuss the trip, and just relax. It was nice and relaxing.

Adam orders another coffee. Me another water.

20 minutes passes, it has stopped raining, but Adam orders yet another coffee and I get yet another water.

Around 9:00 we pay the check and head out.

We are in search of food.

We know there is an Irish pub about 10 blocks away, but fish and chips is not our first choice.

We walk 3 blocks and find a pizza place open. It looks okay, but we hold out hope.

3 more blocks, and another pizza place is open. I can’t explain why, but this one looks more promising.

They don’t have a website but here is their Instagram:

https://www.instagram.com/picsa_ba/?hl=en

We go in. There are no open tables inside. We are given a choice between seats at the counter or a seat on the sidewalk, as it has stopped raining. We take the counter.

We are offered menus. Spanish or English. We choose English.

We look over the menu. It all looks delicious. We are also sitting at the counter, facing the open kitchen and we can see the pizzas being prepared. They look amazing.

We decide on our order.

Two cocktails to start. Followed by a bottle of wine. Then empanadas, a salad and followed by a large pizza.

The cocktails were great. Light and refreshing.

The empanadas were fried, and delicious. Chicken. And Cheese and Onion.

The pizza was perfect. It was covered in a huge amount of cheese, red onions, olives and other things I don’t remember.

(I ate my olives).

We eat a little more than half the pizza. And get the rest wrapped up.

We order dessert. Another version of an ice cream cake.

And you can’t end a meal here without a coffee.

Café con leche. I had two.

We finish up and pay.

We head home.

It’s humid out now. Warm. The air is thick.

There are not a lot of people on the street.

It is also dark. Adam and I take the chance and hold hands. We’ve been nervous here about holding hands in public. In the states, even in Texas, we hold hands everywhere we go. On the street. At dinner. In the mall. We find ourselves reaching for each other, then thinking twice about it.

Not to get too sappy next…

I realize a little too late that I should have pee’d before I left the restaurant. Thank god for dark tree lined streets.

Whew.

That was close.

We walk home.

It is nice in the apartment when we get there. The a/c has been running all day.

It was truly a wonderful day.

Even if it didn’t start until 4:00.

Avo Toast. It was much harder to order than it should have been.

They chill the wine in a clear plastic purse.

Me enjoying the fuck out of this pizza.

Watching cute boys make pizza.

The wood fired pizza oven that no one put wood in for over two hours.

Yay for our first cocktails since arriving in Buenos Aires.

Ensalada and empanadas.

Look below at deliciousness.

Light bodied red vino.

More ice cream cake.

Cafe con leche. X2.

Home for the Holiday!!!

I’d like to speak to the manager!

It’s New Year’s Eve in a foreign country. We have no idea what to expect. Will there be fireworks, crazy crowds, or will it be low key? 

To start, Chef had invited us to his brother’s house for the New Year’s celebration. Adam was a little hesitant, because he didn’t want to intrude on someone’s event. He wanted to make sure that it wouldn’t be a bother.  

I checked in with Chef and he of course said absolutely NOT. It would be awesome for us to join them.  

So, we started our day.  

First off, we slept late. We were both exhausted and I stayed up later than I should have finishing my post from the day before.  

It was around 1:00 when I woke up. We got up around 2:00.  

We had no plan and no direction.  

We knew we needed to get cash. Chef had given us 2,000 pesos the first day to get us through till we could change some currency ans that seemed like a lot. Adam looked like he’d just been handed 10,000 dollars in 10’s.  

It was actually about 60 bucks.  

We’d been told that we could send money to ourselves, through Western Union and pick it up in pesos, with the blue dollar exchange rate. Before we left for the day, we sent ourselves 500 bucks.  

Then we were off in search of a Western Union and lunch.

It turns out to be a search in futility.  

It’s New Year’s Eve afternoon, and NOTHING is open. Most places are closing early, if they opened at all. And there isn’t an open WU anywhere. Well, there was one, but they didn’t have enough money to give us the exchange. It’s approaching 3:00 and we have very little money, and no lunch options.

My boyfriend is starting to get hangry. He also doesn’t like not having a plan. He is a planner. Who needs to eat. He is getting KRANKY!!!

We keep walking, hoping that we’ll cross a street and find a not too expensive restaurant. 

We could have used a card, but the only places we’d found were two restaurants we are going to later in the week.  

To make matters worse, there isn’t even a place open to get a coffee.  

All of the shops are closed.  

We did find a liquor store and bought a bottle of bubbles to take with us later that evening.

We are looking at the map, still hoping, when I suggest we just go to McDonald’s. Well, actually Adam had suggested it an hour earlier, but I’d dragged my feet about it. It was two blocks away, we wanted to see how it compared and we knew they’d be open.  

So.

We end up at McDonald’s and order Big Macs, French Fries, he got a Coke Light and I got a water.  

And guess what?

It tastes exactly like Maine McDonald’s.  

We eat. 

Adam starts to feel better.  

Now we are ready to enjoy the afternoon.

We leave in search of a mural a friend has asked me to look up, but with no hurry and no real agenda.  

We turn right and walk about 2 blocks and pass a grocery store.

Adam’s favorite place in the world is a grocery store. He finally stopped asking me to go with him, because he likes to spend hours there. Up and down each row, although he knows exactly where everything he wants is.  

I asked him if he wanted to go in, and so we did. It was small. About the size of our neighborhood IGA. But it was fun to see all the different products and packaging.  

It was also way less expensive than in the states.  

We wander around for about 15 minutes, and we are off again.

We go two more blocks down and then start to the right.  

We snap photos of the fun things we see.

And then we find the mural that we are looking for. 

A friend of mine, from long, long ago, reached out to say that if I was in the Palermo area of BA and happened up on mural of his friend— could I please snap a photo. I looked up the mural and turns out it is about 10 blocks from our apartment.  

So, we found it, and we snapped a photo.  

It’s a painting of a musician named Hernan Cattaneo. I had never heard of him but seems he’s an amazing DJ and is well known in Argentina. My friend is a personal friend of his and was excited that we found the mural.  

And then we continued home.  

It was warm and the apartment has a pool and someone named Jeff bought a bathing suit for the trip and so when we got back we decided to go down to the pool.  

Of course, it’s approaching 5:30, the sun is behind a building, and the wind is blowing. The heated pool had a hard time keeping up. But it felt great to be in the water and we mostly just floated in the lap pool by ourselves.

Until.

Two very cute boys get in. And start floating about. It’s clear they are also of the gay persuasion. Eventually, they head toward us and the tall ginger says, HOLA!

We laugh, because it’s in an English accent. It’s clear to them we are not speaking Spanish either.

We strike up a conversation. They are from London. They are on a month-long holiday in South America. They bought a 2-pound filet today for 8 English pounds. We chat about why we are here; about Maine and all the stuff you discuss with people you don’t know.  

Then Adam announces he is cold and we head to the other end to get out.  

Fun fact: My gregarious, outgoing boyfriend, who lives his professional life on the floor of a restaurant is shy. Very, very, shy. I find it cute. And sweet.  

We lay on our lounge chair for about 20 minutes and then head up.  

We get home, and Adam immediately goes upstairs to nap. I sit down to finish my post from the night before. Which I don’t get accomplished.  

We aren’t being picked up till 9:00 and I end up napping on the sofa.  

At 8:00 I get up, and wake Adam. We both shower, and dress. And at 8:55 we are standing on the sidewalk waiting.

Chef arrives at 9:01 with his brother Pepe in tow. I give Pepe a big hug, introduce him to Adam and we are off.

As we drive, Chef shares that he met an old friend for coffee today. They were so desperate for a place to meet that first they ended up at McDonald’s for coffee and then a gas station, because McDonald’s closed. He assured me the coffee was good in both locations.  

We arrive at Pepe’s house and the façade is beautiful. It’s old single family town house that has been turned into condos. I meant to snap a photo when I left and forgot. It was old, historic and truly wonderful.  

We go in. We are introduced to the family. Chef’s mother instructs us to sit down in Spanish. We have just gotten there and so aren’t sure if we should sit down just yet, but 30 seconds later his nephew appears and has been instructed to have us be seated.  

And so we sit. 

And the evening begins.

Before I go on.  

I was honored to have been invited. Pepe and his wife, Mirta, work with us in Maine. They are lovely, lovely people. And to have been invited into their home for this celebration meant a lot to me. The idea of spending NYE with Chef’s family seemed so much more special than a night out in a bar, or a restaurant. We get to experience the way he celebrated the holiday growing up.  

So here we go. It’s 9:30. 2.5 hours till midnight.  

First, we are offered drinks. We go with Aperol Spritzes.  

Then the food starts to arrive.  

Chef has explained how this all works.  

Everyone brings something, just like a potluck at home. However, the difference is that it is prepared completely before you arrive and then served cold. That way no one is stuck in the kitchen not taking part in the festivities.  

We start with charcuterie that Chef has brought. This is served with bread and olives. And the apps are finished up with beef tongue.  

At this time, I should say, that before I came, I committed to eating everything offered to me, whether I wanted to or not. For example, this is my second meal with olives, and I don’t like olives, but they are a part of the meal so I take a few.  

There were things on the table from last night that I would never have tried 10 years ago. And to quote Adam, I just stopped thinking about what they were and focused on how delicious they were.  

I’d tried veal tongue last summer at work. Only a bite and it was good. But tonight, I’m served a whole tongue, so I go for it. And it was one of my favorite things of the night.  

Everyone is at the table, and we toast the New Year and Family and the night, and we all dig in. 

What follows is amazing. Adam, myself and Chef’s son are the only native English speakers. Chef speaks well, but he is hard to follow when you first meet him. And his nephew is an advanced beginner. Adam and I sit and listen as the family talks in Spanish. I pick up every 12th word. Every so often, Chef stops and catches us up on the conversation. Then someone will ask us a question, he interprets and then we answer. He shares our answer, and this goes on for a few. Then it’s back to Spanish. This back and forth goes on till the end of the evening.

And I shared with Adam today, that I never felt uncomfortable, or like an outsider, or bored. It was intense and fun and exciting. I loved every minute of it.  

Soon, the apps were finished.  

And the food was sent to the other end of the table, to make room for the next course. I wish I knew the name of these things, but it was all in Spanish. I also don’t have pictures of everything, because for some reason, Adam’s camera didn’t save his photos.  

The next course was equally good.  

It was a course of beef roulettes with egg and herbs and other things, rolled and then grilled. There was a chicken dish prepared the same way. Then there was a veal dish that had a sauce made with mayonnaise and canned tuna. Don’t judge it was delicious.  

There were sides of potato salad with carrots and peas, green salad, 

With this course wine is offered and toasts are made again.  

And then we are on to the third course.  

This is tri-tip stuffed with chimichurri and other ingredients and then grilled on an open fire for three hours. This was prepared by Chef’s father.

The wine is passed around again.  

And then Gancia is pulled out. It’s the Argentine version of Aperol. They make spritzes with it, using soda water and lemon. In two seconds, Chef, Adam and I all have spritzes to drink with our wine. It is amazing and refreshing and it’s been unseasonably warm here the past two days so it was a great way to cool off.  

All this time I’m looking at my watch. It’s approaching 11:30 now.  

The table is cleared. Adam and I are NOT allowed to help.  

It’s 11:40 and sweets start to appear. Sweets, more sweets and more sweets. Chef says that it’s called Mesa Dolce. The Sweet Table. It’s traditionally, served at 11:45 on New Year’s Eve so that you are enjoying them at the stroke of midnight.

We have an ice cream cake that was stupid it was so good. Homemade cookies and sweets. Bought cookies and sweets. They even pulled out a basket with candy bars in case that wasn’t enough.  

At 11:58:30, champagne glasses appeared, bottles were popped and glasses were filled.  

And then we counted down in Spanish. Well I tried, but I’d never done it before so wasn’t very good at it.  

Diez.

Nueve

Ocho.

Siete.

Seis.

Cinco.

Cuatro.

Tres.

Dos.

Uno.

Feliz Ano Neuvo.  

There were toasts and cheers.

Then everyone went around the room, hugging and kissing everyone.

It was very sweet.

When Chef got to me, he grabbed my face with both hands, kissed my cheek and told me how glad he was that I was a part of his team, and how grateful he was I was in Argentina with him.

It was a very sweet moment.  

I got kisses from everyone who was there. Including Adam, although he was the only one to kiss me on the lips.  

After the toast, more sweets appeared.

Then gifts for everyone. Adam and I got a nice bottle of wine.

Then coffee was served, with a new batch of cookies for dipping in the coffee.

And then we all sat around and talked some more.

We talked about tobacco in Kentucky vs. Argentina.

We talked about gigging for frogs vs the way they do it in Argentina.

We talked about Amarillo and Memphis, Texas and how Adam was valedictorian of his class. (He’ll hate that I’ve shared this). Adam showed photos of the Cadillac Ranch in Amarillo.  

We talked about Adam’s small town he grew up in, vs Sadieville where I grew up, vs. his son’s small town in New Jersey near NYC.  

We talked about bourbon, and the bourbon trail.

We discussed Route 66 at length. 

Someone would ask a question. Chef would interpret. We would answer. Chef would interpret.  

Finally, it neared 1:30 and it was time for everyone to head home.  

Chef dropped his father off at the bus station and then came back for us.  

Chef, his mom, son, Adam and I, all headed home.  

We kept passing night club after night club with kids lined up at the door that were just opening for the night.

We got home around 2:00.

We were exhausted.

But as I said last night.

It truly was a special New Year’s Eve. I’ve travelled abroad many times, but there’s something special about being invited into someone local’s home and experiencing the holiday as everyone else in the area does.  

Happy New Year Friends, from Buenos Aires.

PS. I had told Chef that we wouldn’t be able to get money until Monday so he spotted us 130,000 pesos. In 1000 peso bills. It looked like drug money. It translates to 500 dollars.  

PS. The meal from the night before for 4 appetizers, 2 bottles of wines, 2 large format entrees, all the desserts, all the sides, and 8 bottles of water came to a whopping $125 American bucks. The cost of things here is insane.

While I like adding the photos/comments in the post where they go, that adds about an hour of editing. From now on they are added at the end.

A view of someone’s backyard along the street.

Someone crotched a tree a blanket.

Beautiful home in the Palermo area of BA.

Restaurant POS’s in BA use a mouse not a touch screen. It’s true in every restaurant we’ve been in.

A Big Mac is a Big Mac is a Big Mac.

A small grocery store in BA.

The mural of Hernan Cattaneo

The three amigos celebrating the New Year.

Drug Mule money. This is what 130,000 pesos look like.

Beef Tongue. Don’t judge it’s delicious.

Beef and Chicken roulettes.

The BA version of German potato salad with peas and carrots

Veal with a Tuna/mayo sauce.

Ice cream cake….Argentina style.

Charcuterie for everyone.

Adam carving the ice cream…

Food Glorious Food!!!

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

We’ve just arrived at the arrived at the airport.  

Chef appeared.  His son is with him.  There were hugs all around, and then we headed toward the exit, parking, and the trip into the city.  

My knee is killing me.  I should have taken a photo, it was huge and aching, but I pushed through it.  As with my NYC trip, complaining isn’t going to help.  

Just do it and hope for the best.  

We walk slowly to the car, get settled and there is much discussion about what should happen first. 

What I wanted more than anything in the world was water.  I was sooooo parched.  

Adam, however, was not feeling well.  Unbeknownst to me, until he woke up about an hour before the plane landed, was that he’d been sick at his stomach all night.  

When we exited the airplane, he looked clammy, and pale, and you could see it in his face that he wasn’t feeling great.   

He put on a good face. 

As we drove into the city, there were jokes, and questions, as we learned about the Buenos Aires.

Ultimately, we decided to go to our Air BnB in Palermo.  Chef had just chatted with the owner, and he was expecting us in about an hour.  Chef suggested, we show up and see what happened.  

About 40 minutes later, we arrive.  

As soon as we get out, the owner is there.  

He is so nice.  And warm.  And gives us big bro type hand shakes. 

He’s also like 6’4,’ muscular, speaks with a Scandinavian accent, and is very, very sexy.  

But I digress.

He registers us with the building, gets us keys and up we go.

We are staying on the top floors, 29 and 30, of a luxury high rise building.  

He gives us the tour.  Shows us how the appliances, air conditioner etc work.  

Jokingly, he asks if we want a tour of the gym, since it seems like we might enjoy spending time there. 

Very funny.

And then he is gone.  

Chef leaves.  

We are alone.  

Tired.  

Adam is still not well.  

We agree that first things first we need water.  

Adam goes to get water, and then we both shower.  I have enough oil on my forehead to fry French fries.  

I lay on the couch downstairs, with my foot elevated, he naps upstairs.  

Two hours later, we are alive and hungry. 

Like ancient hunters we go out, in search of food.

We considered this as an option, simply because of its name.

We wander around, not knowing anything about where we are, but eventually find a diner.  Well, I don’t know their word for it, but it was a diner. 

We sit.  We order.  

A cheeseburger to share, with French fries.  I order a water and a beer.  Adam orders an Americana.  

The beer arrives and it’s a 1L bottle.  For one person.  

This is going to be a great trip.  

We eat.  I think it’s delicious.  It’s not an American burger.  It’s a version of a smashburger, between two shells, similar to a tortilla shell, but not quite the same.  Adam is not as thrilled but I think it’s because he isn’t feeling well.

We pay.  

But first we google what to tip in Argentina.  

The going rate is 10%. 

Never in my life have I tipped 10% on purpose.  

I read the article again, but it’s says 10%.  

And not mandatory.  

We get the check.  

It’s 5,000 pesos.  

We give her a 1000 peso tip. 

When we hand it to her, she comes back with the change, we explain it is for her and she is so overjoyed. 

We just appreciated her patience when I tried to order soda water.

Fun fact:  Spanish for soda water is:  Aqua con gas.  I’ll never remember this.  

Before I go on, let me tell you about currency in the country of Buenos Aires.  

The official currency is Argentine pesos.  

And the government has an official exchange rate, just like every country, that they recognize.  

BUT.

And here is the interesting part.  

There is also what’s known as a blue dollar.  And it is a black market exchange rate that is recognized by everyone.  It is not illegal, and it is almost double what the official exchange rate it.

The official government exchange rate today was 176.37 pesos for every dollar.

The Blue Dollar exchange rate is 344 per dollar.  

Almost double.  

If you use your credit card, debit card, or go to an official exchange place you’ll pay double. 

Also, the dollar is really, really, strong right now.  

Lunch, with the tip was less than $20.  

We head back home, stop for more water.  30 minutes later we are asleep again.  

The alarms go off.  We are up and at it, and we meet Chef downstairs at 6:15 to start our evening adventure.  

First, we learned from sexy Air BnB guy that a restaurant we want to go to, offers 40% off if you dine before 8.  We had planned to eat there anyway, so why not spend less.  

As with European countries most people don’t even start to think about dinner here till 8:00.  

The restaurant doesn’t take reservations, and when we get there at 6:30, a line has formed around the block. 

Chef goes up to the door, realizes that they have no more seats for their first seating at 6:30, and instead puts our name on the waiting list.  He is told to come back at 8:10.  

He tells me when he returns that the English speaking tourists were all losing their minds at the door because they’d been standing in line for an hour and we still going to have to wait.  

We go in search of cocktails.  

As we walk, he points out things that are special.  The coffee shops on every corner.  The pharmacies.  The stores that only sell vegetables.  The stores that only sell candy.  The stores that are open 24 hours and sell water and beer.  The restaurants that aren’t even open yet and it’s 6:30.  

We wander and see a bar, that is open.  It looks cute.  

We go up to the door and it won’t open.  We assume it’s a private party.  We try again.

We stand outside, discussing our options.  

Adam, finally gives it one last go, and a man from inside, opens the door.  

Turns out the lock is broken and the door won’t open from the outside without a key.

We go in, and there are about 30 seats.  Its tiny. And every seat is taken.  

Chef approaches a man behind the counter, and we are offered seats on the street.  We don’t care,, it’s a drink, then on to dinner, so we go outside and get comfortable.  

The restaurant is a wine bar, and is called https://www.pain-et-vin.com/home

The guy who greeted our table, the same man from the counter, comes out and says hi.

He asks if we speak Spanish, we say English.  He jokes that his English is terrible, but we’ll figure it out.  

The he asks about water. Still or Sparkling. We get both.

He goes into the restaurant, and I think to myself, WOW.

He is super skinny, kind of a rocker haircut and one arm isn’t a sleeve tatoo, so much as it’s all colored in.  No design.  No pattern.  It’s just tattoo green.  He has tattoos on his hands.  One on his neck.  His fingers are covered.  

And here’s the thing. 

He looked like he should be the entertainment for the night with his band, not the wine steward.

He helped Adam choose a bottle and it was perfect.  

The server is super nice, funny, has terrible English skills but was great.  

We enjoy the space, the street, the wine and most importantly the company. 

In no time at all it was time to go back to the other restaurant.    

We get there about 20 minutes early, but they are ready for us.  

We are seated. 

What follows was an amazing culinary adventure.  

The restaurant was called La Cabrera.  http://lacabrera.com.ar/menu-la-cabrera/

The restaurant was fun, is well known, and specializes in meat.  

The server was a grumpy old man, who we grew to like a lot.  

The tables very close together.  The service was excellent, but very different than an American restaurant.  

First, the staff did things that would get them fired at my restaurant, but I’d go back tomorrow if I could.  

There is a menu to show you how to order your steak.

We sit and are started with bread and olives.  

Turns out there is a restaurant fee added to the check to cover expendables, like plates, linens etc.  Too add value to the charge, they offer complimentary things to start.  

We ordered wine.  They didn’t serve liquor, so wine it was.  Chef defers to Adam and he selects a beautiful chardonnay.  

While we are waiting on the wine, chef orders.

And he ordered all the things.  

Chinchulin, which are Agentine chitlin’s 

Sweetbreads:  Look it up if you don’t know

Blood Sausage:  Look it up

Beef Kidney

Argentine Sausages

Empanadas. 

The food started coming out and it filled the table.  There were four boards, each covered in meat, with their own sauces in ramekins.   

There is so much food we don’t know where to start.  We toast to the coming week and we are off. 

These are the chitlin’s.

On the right is beef kidney! The left is Chitlin’s.

In the back the ramekins are chimichurri and puréed carrots.

The red in the ramekin is a beet puree, not ketchup. On the right is a salsa criolla, and in the foreground is a ramekin of spices that you use to soak up the meat juices.

Delicious sweet breads!

Argentine sausage on the left, blood sausage on the right.

I’ve haven’t tried a few of these things.  And if you know what most of them are you might not eat them.  Turns out everything was delicious.  Everything.  We keep, cutting pieces of meat and then passing them around the table.  

We are full before the boards are empty.

They also served with traditional side, but they are tiny, tiny, tiny portions.  Enough for everyone to have one fork full.  All equally as good.  

The table is cleared. We order more wine.

Adam selects a red, but the server says he should go with something else.  Chef ultimately decided to go with Adam’s selection of the red.  It too was delicious.  

Then came the entrees. 

EXCEPT.  

We had ordered a tomahawk ribeye but they are out.  So they substituted a 2” new York strip and a long bone short rib, cut length wise, and grilled not smoked.  

We wait a few minutes and the food is delivered.  Two big boards covered with meat.  

These were also served with their own accoutrements.

The NY Strip on the left, the long bone short rib on the right.   

The carving of the meat!!!

All was delicious. 

The boards are cleaned, our plates are clear and what now it’s time for dessert.  

We are discussing whether we even want dessert, when Chef realizes we never got the empanadas.  Which is a big deal, because that’s one of the main reasons he is in Argentina to begin with.  

We all laugh about it.

But alas it’s too late.

We order dessert.  We decide on the surprise dessert.  You order and they bring out the dessert special of the night, without knowing what it is.  But alas they are out of that as well, which is one of my favorites the Eaton Mess.  

Chef, in Spanish, tells our grumpy waiter that we would like him to bring us a little bit of each dessert, and 15 minutes later it appeared.  

The pistachio gelato was the hit of the night.  

We finish up with coffee. 

And.

Finally, after three hours, we were given the check.  

I’ll let you all guess how much this meal was in American money?  

Go on guess, I’ll tell you tomorrow.

We pay, discuss the tip at great length, end up leaving 25% and head back to our car.  

After dinner, Chef gave us the 60 minute tour of the city.  Past places like the zoo, the botanical gardens, the National Theater, the National Cathedral, Casa Rosado, all of the big shopping areas, and beautiful buildings.  The French Embassy, was especially beautiful.  

Then it is 11:30. We are back in our Air Bnb.  

Adam showers and heads to bed.  

I stay up and write yesterday’s post and start this post, which takes longer than it should because I was so tired.

This was my view as I sat at the dining table writing my post.

I get to bed around 3:30. I lie there awake, with my knee throbbing in the dark, very grateful for this experience.  

Leaving on a jet plane!!!

I’d like to speak to the Manager!!!

The wait has been long.  It’s been fun.  It’s been exciting.  

But the day finally arrived yesterday.

Yesterday, Adam and I finished packing our suitcases, double checked for medicines, chargers, and passports, and at 10:00 we left for the bus station to begin our trip to Buenos Aries. 

To be honest, we’d both had our trepidations about the trip.

Me, because my knee is still fucked.  With a capital F.  I’ve had 2 cortisone shots, 3 Euflexa shots.  Three water drainages.  

And still she persists. 

The two days prior to leaving were some of the worst I’ve had with my knee.  

But, as they say, you suck it up, put on a good face, and just get through it.  

As I told Adam, if all we did was sit by the pool, eat good food, and just relax, then it was a win/win. 

As for him, he was nervous to travel to a city, around the globe, where we don’t speak the language, and won’t how to navigate it.  

I assured him that Americans do it every day, so we’d be fine.  

As I predicted, he’s more excited than ever, now that we are here.  

Back to yesterday:

We left at 10:00 a.m. for the bus station.  There’s a Concord Shuttle Bus that will take you from Portland to the Boston Airport in exactly 2 hours.  

We ran a few quick errands and arrived for the bus at 11:00.  The station was packed, everyone waiting for the 11:30 bus.  

At exactly 11:20, we boarded and by 11:35 we were on our way.  

It’s a very easy trip, with internet and a movie.  I watched Ocean’s 8 without the sound, while Adam looked at his phone.  

Everything about the flight yesterday was easy.  

There was no traffic getting into Boston.  There were no lines at the check-in counter.  Security, was super-fast and I didn’t even have to take my laptop out of my bag.  Within 30 minutes, we were through security, and determined to find food.  And booze.  Before the plane.  

Fun fact:  The food choices at terminal B in Boston are kind of lame.  Coupled with the knee our choices were limited.   

Adam suggested Pot Bell Sandwiches as a first course, letting me know that they had chicken pot pie soup that I might like.  I agreed, so we reversed direction and got in line.

We arrive at the counter to find that they do not INDEED have chicken pot pie soup.  

Fuck.  This is a great start to the trip.  

I order broccoli cheddar instead.  He gets a sandwich.  And off we go to eat.  

As we are finishing eating, one of my best friends in the world, comes through security.  I knew that she was going to be there at the same time, I just hadn’t expected it to be so easy to meet up.  

We finish up, give each other hugs, and then we are off for the 2^nd course of our meal.  

It’s really a choice between Legal Seafoods and Sam Adams.  Neither choice is great, so we go with cheaper.  Sam Adams it is.  

We arrive and we were still getting seated when the server arrived to ask if we were ready to order.  We didn’t have menus at this point. 

We get drinks. We have snacks.  

The clock is ticking.  We say our goodbyes and snap a quick photo

And we are off to Gate 13. 

The boarding starts about 15 minutes later, and with that Group 5 is called and we head on to the plane. 

Adam read, about a month ago, that when you are flying, it’s always nice to do something nice for the flight attendants.  So we bought two bags of candy and we gave them to the crew when we boarded the plane. 

You’d have thought we handed them all 100 dollar bills.  We were given bourbon, to carry with us on our next flight, in fact I’m drinking a Woodford Reserve they gave me right now.  They were also just sweet and so thankful.  

The only negative about the trip, was that we’d downloaded shows to watch on Adam’s Ipad, but we couldn’t get it to play.  So most of that first trip was me trying to sleep.  

Three quick hours later we were in Miami.  Early in fact.  Of course there was no gate to park in, so we had to wait.  And then when the gate became available we had to wait almost 15 more minutes, because 37 people got up to pee and we couldn’t move till they were seated. 

We are off the plane and have exactly 35 minutes to get from terminal D to terminal E.  And they are about as far apart as Miami is to Boston. 

Bum knee remember. 

I put on a good face and we book it.  Up some stairs, rode the tram, down some stairs, down a three mile corridor and after 5 hours and 23 minutes, we arrived.  They were already boarding. 

We get on the plane to discover a very cute Argentinian man sitting in our seats.  Apologies are made, he moves to the seat he has with his family and we sit down.  

The seats are great…we paid extra for them.

But the arm rests don’t go up, as we are seated facing a wall and the tray tables are built into the arms and I’m stuck in the chair like a sausage.  

We ask the flight attendant if we could move as it’s approaching the time we are supposed to leave and the flight is more than half empty.  

She doesn’t seem to like the question, but tells us to wait until the doors are closed.  

Long story short, we get to move to a row with only 2 seats, with additional leg room, and the arm rests go up.  

About that time, champagne arrives, as a thank you for the bag of treats we gave this team.  

As we get settled, people are moving about, and it’s quite an attractive group of travelers.  Men and women are all very pretty.  Not such a bad thing when you are stuck with them for 8 hours.  

We take off.  

And Adam has figured out what was wrong with the I-pad and we start watching Elvis, and what seems like 12 minutes later drinks and dinner are served.  I don’t remember the last time I was served a meal on an airplane.  Not even going to California.  

Of course, I use the term dinner lightly. 

They clear our plates, turn out the lights and I look at my watch.  

We’ve been on the plane 75 minutes.  

OH.  NO.  

Adam and I go back to our movie.  

Actually, we open our carryon and open the bottle of bourbon gummy bears that we were given.  At the botton of the container is 5 or 6 “special” gummies.  We both pop one, then go back to our movie.  

About 40 minutes later, Adam tells me he is falling asleep, and so I take the I-pad, he puts his head on my shoulder and he’s breathing deeply five seconds later.  

I look at my watch, we have 1,259 hours to go before we land.  

I go back to the movie. 

I watch 3 hours of it, check how much is left, and there is still 7 hours to go.  It is long!!!

I realize I am relaxed and tired.  I put the I-pad away, open my pillow, and will myself to sleep.  

Which doesn’t happen.  For the next 6 hours I wake up about every 30 minutes.  Toss and turn, fall asleep again, wake up, and repeat.  

It turns out to be a long, long night.  

Since I was awake, I got to see two girls throw up in the restroom with the door open.  Not a fun sound at 4:00 a.m.

I watched as the restroom was placed out of order, after the last girl.  But no sign was put on the door.  So people arrived.  And they waited and waited and waited, until finally the need to pee drove them up the aisle to the back of the plane.  

I realize at 7 hours I hadn’t gotten up once since I got on the plane.  I’m trying to figure out why I haven’t had to pee.  And then I realize, they limit your fluids.  I have had 1 glass of water, and 1 glass of champagne, and 1 glass of wine sine 7 hours ago.  I’m parched.  I’m dehydrated.  I’m fucking tired.  

I also learned that assholes, like to raise the window coverings, way before people are awake, flooding the cabin with light and waking everyone.  Fuckers.  

I learned that breakfast is worse than dinner.  

I was reminded that airline coffee is gross.  

But at 7:45 Argentine time, which is 2 hours ahead of the East Coast, we landed.  Ahead of schedule.  

15 minutes later, we were on our way to the immigration checkpoint.

Picked up our bags.  

Went through claims security.  

And were ready to start our vacation in Buenos Aires.  

As Adam was taking the suitcases off the carousel, I was waiting (bum knee), and I realized why I hadn’t slept last night.  

I take medication for depression.  One of the side effects of taking it for so long, is that a withdrawal symptom is that it interrupts my sleep.  

Fun fact:  Never, in the history of taking this medicine, have I ever realized at 2 in the morning that I’m not sleeping because I haven’t taken my meds.  I toss and turn and realize it about 30 minutes after I get up.  

Three minutes later, Chef appears and our day begins.  

PS.  It’s late.  I’m tired.  So I have no proofed this or edited it.  Forgive me for the glaring errors. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I’ve wracked my brain all day to find a Xmas manager post…

This isn’t manager related but it is a totally true story.  

When I was in my late 30’s, my mother wisely asked what I wanted for Christmas.  I was famous for “accidently” leaving things on my bed, that I didn’t need or want.  

So, I thought long and hard about what I needed and wanted and came up with towels.  My towels were years old, and getting threadbare so I asked for nice white towels.  

So fast forward a few weeks and it’s Christmas Day.

And Xmas morning, we open gifts and what would you know, my Mom and Dad gave me white towels. 

Fast forward, a couple of hours and my brother gave me white towels.

Fast forward a few hours and my aunt and uncle gave me white towels.  

I went home with 6 white towels.  

But wait.  There’s more.

The next two Christmases involved more white towels.  

When it was all said and done, I think I have about 12 white towels in my bathroom.

A single person, living alone.

I had so many towels that one week, my laundry, sent me home without towels, I didn’t even ask what happened.  I just pulled out new white towels.  

I’m pretty sure, after that year, my mom started giving me gift cards for Xmas.  

Seriously, though.  

How many white towels does one person need???

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I was very grateful to have the night off.  

The last Xmas Eve I worked, I worked 16 hours.  Open to close.  

Understaffed, and very busy.  I never need to do that again.  

At the beginning of that shift, I started a count down on my watch.  I don’t know if it helped move things along, but I was nice to watch the day fade away.  

I never, ever, ever need to do that again.  

I appreciate working for people who understand that sometimes it’s not about the money.

Last weekend at work, I was at the door, and someone asked when we were closing for the season.  I explained that we don’t close for the season, just a couple of weeks over the holidays.

One of the men standing in the lobby, exclaimed, that’s insane, that’s a lot of lost revenue over the holiday, at the end of the year.  

I’ve had this chat with my boss.  Not in an attempt to stay open, but to understand his philosophy.  

And the truth is, it’s only about 7 days we would be open, if we didn’t close, with the holiday off and our normal Tuesday, Wednesday off.  

It’s truly an open for 2 days.  Close for 2 days.  Open for 2 days.  Close for 2 days. 

It’s easier just to call it a day, and give everyone an extended vacation.  

And he knows that he could do a good amount of revenue during this time, but sometimes doing what’s right, is better than making a few more dollars.  

The truth is, we do very well for ourselves, and he acknowledges this.

So, to everyone who is celebrating anything this week, may you have a warm and lovely week. 

Be well.