BUENOS AIRES: THE FAENA THINGS IN LIFE or A BIT OF FA IN BA

As I am finding as I tour around this little world of ours, life is ever so full of little surprises and, if I am not careful, it would be all too easy to become complacent and take for granted that people’s extraordinary generosity will lead to great opportunities.

However, last night, before I headed off for a truly hateful journey to Brazil, was one that will live in the memory for some time. I mean, when was the last time any of us got invited to eat in a “Universe”

My chum Fernando (officially the coolest person I have ever met) had to be out of town on a mission which, I kid you not, involved him being flown on a private jet to Uruguay. But, he did not want me to spend my last night on my Jack Jones so arranged for me to have supper with his pal, Flor who manages Public Relations for, wait for it, The Faena Hotel + Universe.

Opened some four years ago when there was nothing in the Puerto Madero area of BA other than building sites and rubble, The Faena was the brainwave of Alan Faena who, despite the economic crash that hit Argentina just as it opened, managed to realise his dream to complete what was recently voted “ the hippest hotel in South America”

It is quite something to be sure. Built in a silo which used to house over 40% of Argentina’s entire supply of grain, it was designed by Phillip Stark (of course) with a nod to the Belle époque era of Argentina’s 19th century past when the country was the fifth biggest economy in the world.

The “universe” contains theatres, Heaven knows how many rooms and a pool area that is, to use a cliché, like something from a movie.

The Library bar, where I met Flor before supper, is pretty lavish too and the cocktail, fortunately, lived up to the surroundings. Well made, with Beefeater Gin and suitably cold and dry.

Despite all the other distractions, it was The Faena Bistro which was of primary interest. Although, calling it a bistro is like calling Harrods a corner shop. The room has been done out with a level of budget that has probably not been approved since Parisian Café culture was in its heyday.

All of this would matter little if the end result, the food, was not up to scratch. However, as with everything else, they have done their level best to get the best. In this case to bring back to Argentina, a 33yr old acolyte of Mr Adria who goes by the glorious name of Mariano Cid De la Paz and spent the last six years working in the kitchens of the molecular magician’s Seville hotel.

And it shows, the tasting menu I was treated to has lots of twists and turns, airs and foams which are becoming all too familiar in London and New York but I suspect are causing many a raised eyebrow here in uber-conservative Argentina.

Despite my many misgivings about this kind of cooking, De la Paz does have a certain dexterity that only comes from those people who have worked at the source.

Little snackettes were presented to us with our drinks in the bar and included a “fried” sushi where the rice is made to a paste, dried and then fried, a chunk of marinated tuna and a small but entirely delicious melting slab of potato stuffed with a fiery aioli.

Once we decamped to the dining room, things began in earnest.

The food in Argentina has been very tasty indeed, thanks, I think, to my willingness to eat grilled meat all day every day. But, it lacks variety and the cause of that, a difficulty in finding great ingredients, is one of the challenges of running any fine dining restaurant in the city. That, inevitably means that, while the cooking is accomplished here, there are occasions when the main ingredient lets the side down. However, for the most part, this would be a restaurant and a chef who would past muster under the exacting gaze of any of the world's major eating cities.

The first three courses, included my favourite dish of the night, a deconstructed Spanish Tortilla, served in a martini glass and came with a recommendation to eat from the bottom up.

Another deconstruction followed, this time of a classic dish from the North of Argentina, The Empanada, this time with the key elements of potato, olives, egg and meat being given prominence over the usual casing of dense pastry.

Another “simple” but excellent dish followed involving a carpaccio of mushrooms with small swirls of toothsome linguini.

By this time, a martini and some excellent Chardonnay to the good coupled with pleasing conversations with Flor and some friends who joined us half way through supper, things did begin to blur somewhat.

I do recall, through my haze, that I found dishes involving duck confit and ravioli of lamb interesting rather than hugely enjoyable, but had my attention brought fully back to my plate by a stunning dish of red mullet, stuffed and served with a splodge of a fabulous romesco sauce.

A last well thought out dish of venison with local dried fruits came before a dessert which involved lots of chocolate and then it was time for me to go.

I had planned to have an early and relatively quick meal in time to return to my own humble serviced apartment ($25 a night to you and me) pack and head to the airport, but both the company and the food made me quite forget the time and, in the end, it all became a bit of a mad rush.

Still, despite that and a flight that almost made me give up on my whole trip, I am now in Brazil. A world, or you could say a universe ,away from 24 hours ago

BUENOS AIRES: LA BRIGADA & A LATE NIGHT

It may sound corny, but, as I am discovering, Buenos Aries only really comes alive at night.

It’s streets never look better than they do in the declining light of the early evening and its people seem to rise from a somnambulant state at about 6pm to begin to think about supper, drinks and a bit of a party.

I was lucky that my new best chums The Gils invited me to join them for an evening’s entertainment.

First though, I had the day to kill and spent much of it walking along the relatively recently developed Puerto Madero with its spiffy gleaming new buildings and lines of lavish looking restaurants aimed at those with large expense accounts and little brain.

It is all perfectly fine in the way that any sterile converted waterfront area can be, but it held little appeal certainly in the dining area. So, I surreptitiously followed a gang of construction workers on a break and ended up along side a reservoir where any number of small stalls were set up offering grilled meats and sandwiches.

For about £1, I was able to treat myself to a Bandiola, a sandwich made with big strips of Bife de Chorizo, enough to send me back to the apartment I am renting and to bed for a bit of a nap.

By 8pm, I was up and ready to face the world and hopped in a cab back to the St Telmo district to meet my new friends at what is considered BA’s finest purveyor of meats of the grilled kind, La Brigada.

I was in expert hands as Martin Gil was one of the founders of the Argentinia Slow Food movement and knows his Argentinian grills inside out. He took charge and I was soon faced with a hot chunk of provoleta which, he assured me, was the benchmark for any parrilla.

Next, some innards. I love innards and there are not many varieties that I have not eaten in my forty three years. However, this was a first, delicate mollejas (sweetbreads) followed by chinchulines (intestines or chitterlings) both of which I had indulged myself in many times, but these were different having being separated from something which previously bleated rather than went ‘moo” Martin is pleasingly specific and instructed me to "only add five drops of lemon to wake it up" who was I to argue? Slightly charred on the outside and melted to a liquid inside, they were as good bits of offal as I can recall eating in a long, long time.

The main event was a large chunk of Bife De Chorizo and a slab off the short end of a rib. Both excellent and cooked, as they tend to here, to medium rare which worked well with an excellent wine from Mendoza whose name I could not drag from the fuzziness of my brain if you pointed a gun at me. It began with a “Q” if that helps at all.

As Martin put it “you either liked grilled meats or you don’t, but you are not going to find any better than this in the whole of Argentina” ‘nuff said.

In yet another one of those astonishing displays of hospitality I am encountering just about everywhere, the Gils insisted on picking up the tab and then invited me to join them at a friends birthday party.

So, after at least letting me buy them a drink in the old world elegance of the bar at The Plaza Hotel, they whisked me to another part of town where a party was just getting going (it was only midnight after all) more food, plenty of wine and a rather fun performance from a local entertainer whose songs I did not quite follow but guess they involved wanting to kill herself because a man broke “mi corazon”

One more night in this fun town, if I can last the pace. Then I am off to sit on a beach in Brazil for a bit of a rest

BUENOS AIRES: GORGEOUS GIRLS & GRILLS

I have had a hard time walking around Buenos Aries since I arrived about 48 hours ago.

It is not the hateful weather, which despite the fact it is almost Summer, is cold and horribly damp.

It is not the fact that it is a vast city accommodating a huge volume of traffic with drivers who obviously score extra points if they hit a balding, forty something tourist with ears like open car doors.

Nope, I am not going to lie to you, it is because the women in this city are so astonishingly attractive that I have been wandering around in a state of step troubling engorgement almost since I touched down at the airport.

The women here are, as we used to say in Rotherham “drop your chips” gorgeous. However, being firmly in the “it has ears so it must be a face” category, I am, of course, entirely invisible to every last one of them. Bugger.

Anyway, despite this handicap, I have managed to hobble around and squeeze in a few meals which, unsurprisingly, given where I am, have involved large chunks of fresh meat grilled for my pleasure.

I have tried a few Parrillada so far and yesterday’s effort at La Dorita in Palermo was not a bad effort. Starting with a few hefty croquetta before moving on to a 400gms bife de lomo (tenderloin) with a bowl of sweet potato chips. Followed (in tribute to HP who would have loved this meal) a Mixta of helado. They don’t age their meat here, so the taste is quite different from those I tried recently in the USA. They also like to cook it a little more than the bloody state I normally demand, but it is plenty enjoyable never the less.

Wine comes, in rather fun little penguin shaped pots which the locals “baptise” with a little soda and chunk or two of ice, and the whole experience is, to go back to another “chips” reference, “cheap as”

In fact, my meal yesterday (three courses, wine, tea and a little something extra at the end) came to just under £14 and, I am told that it is one of the more expensive versions in town with similar meals being easily available for well under £5.

I have another forty eight hours in BA before flying off to Brazil. I am going to see how much more meat I can fit in.

This city may not be kind to the ego of a middle aged man, but it is, at least kind on the wallet.