StrayLight
06-18-07, 23:28
I was disappointed in this place. I had heard that the chef had come from La Bourgogne, in the Alvear. And although I've never eaten at La Bourgogne, the reputation is sterling and I suppose I was expecting some of it to rub off. Alas...
The atmosphere is certainly nice. Quiet...cozy...intimate. And the relatively small menu leads one to believe that the kitchen is going to focus on quality, not quantity.
So I had two dinners there over the course of about a month, and neither one was all that.
The first time I had the terrine de campagne for a first course, followed by lapin au vin. The terrine was rock solid, and not very tasty. I could conceivably have written that off as simply being in Argentina, except for the fact that a French specialty store recently opened up basically just around the corner on Arenales, and they sell a kick-ass terrine. So fundamentally it has nothing to do with Argentina; Granda simply hosed it up. And the rabbit was dry as a bone. I got the front leg and saddle, along with rice and (apparently) baked slices of some winter root vegetable. Turnips or parnips, it was hard to tell. In any case, the entire second course was pretty dry and uninspiring. The rabbit was so uninspiring that I ordered one from my butcher the next day and whipped up a little lapin a la moutard just to see if I could produce something better. And I did.
The second time I ate there I had the beef bourgignon. Granda makes their beef bourgignon in a much different manner than I make mine. Not inherently worse, but different. I could have liked it, but as with the rabbit, it appeared to have sat around for too long between conception and serving. Like...days. The sauce had reduced a little too much, and it was kind of syrupy.
By coincidence, my dinner companions on each occasion had the pork chop, and each of them was also disappointed.
The kicker was after dinner, when I asked if they had armagnac or calvados, and the waiter didn't have a clue what I was talking about. So much for French bistros.
To be fair, this is not Paris. I suppose, however, that sometimes I get into this "Paris of South America" mode and probably expect too much from the so-called French restaurants around town. Although this place wouldn't stand a snowball's chance in hell in either Paris, New York, Washington DC, or any other city like that, the fact is that for Buenos Aires it's a nice change from the common parrilla stuff, and I'll probably go back at some point. But if you go, you should go more for the atmosphere than for the food.
SL
The atmosphere is certainly nice. Quiet...cozy...intimate. And the relatively small menu leads one to believe that the kitchen is going to focus on quality, not quantity.
So I had two dinners there over the course of about a month, and neither one was all that.
The first time I had the terrine de campagne for a first course, followed by lapin au vin. The terrine was rock solid, and not very tasty. I could conceivably have written that off as simply being in Argentina, except for the fact that a French specialty store recently opened up basically just around the corner on Arenales, and they sell a kick-ass terrine. So fundamentally it has nothing to do with Argentina; Granda simply hosed it up. And the rabbit was dry as a bone. I got the front leg and saddle, along with rice and (apparently) baked slices of some winter root vegetable. Turnips or parnips, it was hard to tell. In any case, the entire second course was pretty dry and uninspiring. The rabbit was so uninspiring that I ordered one from my butcher the next day and whipped up a little lapin a la moutard just to see if I could produce something better. And I did.
The second time I ate there I had the beef bourgignon. Granda makes their beef bourgignon in a much different manner than I make mine. Not inherently worse, but different. I could have liked it, but as with the rabbit, it appeared to have sat around for too long between conception and serving. Like...days. The sauce had reduced a little too much, and it was kind of syrupy.
By coincidence, my dinner companions on each occasion had the pork chop, and each of them was also disappointed.
The kicker was after dinner, when I asked if they had armagnac or calvados, and the waiter didn't have a clue what I was talking about. So much for French bistros.
To be fair, this is not Paris. I suppose, however, that sometimes I get into this "Paris of South America" mode and probably expect too much from the so-called French restaurants around town. Although this place wouldn't stand a snowball's chance in hell in either Paris, New York, Washington DC, or any other city like that, the fact is that for Buenos Aires it's a nice change from the common parrilla stuff, and I'll probably go back at some point. But if you go, you should go more for the atmosphere than for the food.
SL