Arrived early morning of 3/23 in Buenos Aires; a long but easy flight via Atlanta.
Stayed in the Howard Johnsons Boutique Recoleta, a vastly superior version of its American counterpart, our room was spacious and chic and the staff were impeccably courteous and congenial. Arrived a few hours before S. and sacked out, fatigued after the overnight journey.
Happily, the time difference is a mere four hours. Makes the adjustment much easier.
Our first night, dined in barrio Recolta near the houtel at Fervor, known for its seafood in addition to meat. Figured that while I was in a seafoody zone, I should take advantage as our journey inland was likely to be increasingly a meat-a-palooza (not that this is a bad thing). This recommendation came from my Westlake friend, Kathy Reich (thanks!).
Dinner, we found, is not done prior to 9pm. We´d asked for an 8:30pm rez, to a strange and sorry look from our concierge, and arrived promptly tofind the staff still setting up. had a bellini and G&T respectively at the 5-stool, marble-topped bar, and translated cocktail nuances between other English-speaking customers and the bartender for about an hour. Satisfied that the place was filling, we took our table.
Started the meal with grilled mushroom caps and a plate of prosciutto, and an amuse bouche of tuna pate´. S. and I each had a mixed seafood parrilla of small sweet scallops, the most perfectly cooked shrimp I´ve eaten, red salmon, hake, and peeled octopus tentacles. Sides of fries and creamed spinach topped with parmesan. A bottle of malbec.
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Awoke late, and hoofed our way toward Recoleta Cemetery and were lured to a sub-par Italian lunch on the wawy. With the intention of meandering the Thursday craftsmarket at Plaza de Mayo later, we entered the labyrinthine decap oand rotting glory of the Recoleta Cemetery. Mausoleums in styles ranging from Egyptian revival to Neo-Classical, Victorian delicate, hints of Gaudi in the ironwork curves. Others ornate from the early 1800s. Some sleek and imposing in granite like a Manhattan bank. Often with glass punched all or partially from the frame. Double doors secured by old or contemporary locks, but sufficiently ajor that one could, even this clear and warm afternoon, easily imagine a bony arm extending forth. It is an ideal setting for a vampire film; mild to extreme decay, coffins in wood and ornate fittings, stacked carelessly, floor to ceiling on three interior walls. Tiny, twisty stairway descending to depth in each crypt. Stained glass saviors and guardians dappling dust-muted colors on the residents. Thin drowsy cats perched and lounging everywhere and epiphytes occupying the crevaces that cats are not.
An hour or so into our wander, we found the surprisingly modest black granite mausoleum of Evita Peron (nee´ Duarte) with her family name. There are plaques and some silk flowers in the sides, but not more than some other crypts wore. Her exiled husband, President Juan Peron (forgive my lack of accents) is not buried here as he was not permitted into this exclusive ground.
We never did make it to the Plaza de Mayo this day as we exited the cemetery to find a market setting up in the park adjascent. While the artisans arranged their wares, we saw the cathedral and the Cloisters museum. Exited to find dredlockéd musicians humming and hooting on diggery-doos and clay flutes livening the audio air of the market. We started our research of local craft trends and quality that day. Leather shoes, bags, and jewelry, silver and "alpaca" crafts, mate´gourds and silver stirrer-straws. Macreme jewelry made by Peruvians and rasta-hippies Hand puppets clever, funny, and regrettably, not purchased.
A nap back at the hotel after breaking the day´s bankroll and a delicious helado-gelato cup of dulce de leche side-by-side with fresh raspberry.
Reservations with concierge approval and Kathy´s rec again, at the cosmopolitan and scrumptuous Ovieda (also in Recolta) where we met the charming Daniel. He graciously made a list of Must-Dos and Must-Sees for us.
Dinner at Oviedo (also in barrio Recoleta):
We started with a Sav Blanc and an amuse bouche of salmon pate on crostini. Though I am an adventurous eater, I have found myself hesitant and skeptical frequently here with sauces and little snacklettes and such. AND again and again, I my reservations have proven groundless. Each chimichurri, pate´, etc has been delicious and delightful. This was no excception.
I had an entree of pan-cooked red salmon perfection, over eggplant medallions and sauteed sliced zucchini.
For dessert I took a cue from Daniel´s dining and ordered the ¨pancakes con dulche de leche¨, two crepes filled with freshly made caramel. and caramelized on top. H.E.A:V.E:N. Serena´s molten choclate cake hadn´t a chance of measuring up.
