Just picking up where I left off on Av. Dorrego in yesterday’s post – there were just too many photos to do it all in one.

The very pretty Santa Adela church is just downhill at the corner of Av. Luis M. Campos.

As we continue down, the elevated railroad tracks continue on our right, and the small enclave of Las Cañitas is to the left. Unless one ventures in (well worthwhile if you want to eat or drink), there’s little of interest in this stretch – a couple of military warehouse type buildings make up most of what is right on Dorrego itself.

At the end of this stretch, when reaching Av. Libertador, are the two fields of the polo grounds. The one right at the corner is the military polo field, the one off to the left, behind the far bleachers, is the Argentine national polo field. I should go to a polo match one season, no?

Although not along Dorrego itself, it’s worth a block’s walk to the right just to see the King Fahd Islamic Cultural Center, the largest mosque in Latin America. In 1995, president Carlos Menem granted the land to a Saudi-backed organization. The buildings contain a mosque, school, library and cultural center. Interestingly, as the Argentine constitution required (that was, I gather, changed in 1994) that the president of the country be Catholic, Menem, a Syrian Muslim, had to convert to Catholicism after being elected and before being inaugurated his first term. He’s currently a senator from the La Rioja province, I’m not clear if he converted back to being Muslim or has remained Catholic.

Across Av. Libertador is the racetrack, the hipodromo – virtually any day one can find either races being run or, at the least, watch practice sessions. Admission is quite cheap, and it’s a fun outing, whether you bet or not.

A different view of the arch of the pedestrian/bicycle crossover that I mentioned/crossed in my walk along Av. Alcorta and the 3 de Febrero park.

The Plaza de la Republica del Pakistan…

…and right next to it, the pretty, though slightly unkempt, Plaza de la Republica del Ecuador, and further on, the German equestrian club.

Just the other side of Av. Alcorta is El Instituto y el Jardín de Infancia Mitre, an institute for training teachers to work with younger children, basically preschool, kindergarten, and the first couple of years of primary school.

A monument commemorating Argentina’s centennial, which was completely refurbished for the bicentennial. Bronze and granite, designed by Swiss artist Paul Amlehn, it symbolizes the friendship between the two countries over the years.

We’re still in horse riding country and the entire area is surrounded by different equestrian schools, riding paths, etc. One of the many equestrian clubs and schools along the way.

Opposite the green expanse of the German equestrian club, as we approach the end of the avenue, is the national weather station for the domestic airport.

And, finally, the domestic airport, Aeroparque Jorge Newberry, is across Av. Lugones.

It is, as always, hunger inducing on these walks, even if they’re not that long (Dorrego is a total of just under 4 km, or 2.5 mi) and since the last stretch of park before the area has a couple of outdoor parrilla stands, I returned there – had to pass by them anyway on my way home. One of them was jammed with taxi drivers and others munching away on sandwiches, the other had only a couple of folk eating. Not wanting to wait in line, I opted for the latter…

…great selection of condiments… I ordered a bondipan, a sandwich of sliced bondiola, pork shoulder, with lemon, and then loaded it up with some condiments…

…there may have been a reason that the latter spot was near devoid of customers, it may have been the worst bondipan sandwich I’ve encountered – fatty, gristly, overcooked to near carbonized state, stale bread, and the condiments didn’t taste fresh. My sandwich joined with what appeared to be many others, that I spotted a few moments later, as pigeon food.

It’s been awhile since I posted one of my presidential walks – having left off with Vicente Lopéz, the interim president for a mere five or six weeks after the first real elected president, Rivadavia, had been forced to resign over scandals in negotiations with Brazil. That brings us to Manuel Dorrego (monument above is in front of the government offices at Suipacha and Viamonte), born 1787, grew up in a nice middle class family, nothing of great distinction noted during his childhood or adolescence, and, eventually found himself studying law. At some point during his studies, towards the end of the first decade of the 19th century, he was caught up in the tides of change, dropped out of school and headed into the army, under the command of General Belgrano, where he distinguished himself enough to rise to the rank of Colonel. In 1814 he returned to Buenos Aires, where he took up his studies again, but also took up pen and paper, scribing various anti-royalist sentiments that, in 1816, under the government of Pueyrredón, got him kicked out of the country into exile. He made his way to Baltimore and spent a couple of years there enjoying crabcakes and crab bashes, the latter to serve him well in his later years….

Returning in 1820, after Pueyrredón was out of office, and enamored with the idea of Federalism and Democracy, he took up pen and paper once again, and got actively involved in politics, serving for part of the “Era of Anarchy” as governor of Buenos Aires, then headed off to Bolivia, and then returning to Buenos Aires where he became known for his fiery oratorical skills in advancing the cause of federalism, and went on to win the elected position of a sort of joint governorship and executive leader of the country (referred to as “Governor of Buenos Aires in Charge of International Relations for the Republic of Argentina, loosely translated) on August 3rd of 1827. Immediately taking up the resolution of the mess with Brazil left behind by Rivadavia, he negotiated a peace settlement with Brazil over the independence of the territory that became modern day Uruguay, certainly his most notable achievement during his term in office. But federalism did not sit well with everyone, and while he was off in Uruguay, his childhood friend, late become political opponent, Juan Lavalle, marched on the capital with a sufficient army at his back to take over the country. Dorrego’s attempt to return with the aid of forces from the Banda Oriental, as Uruguay was known, only resulted in his capture. While apparently the plan, at first, was to simply jail him and then, perhaps, send him back into exile, on the day of his transfer from a military prison to a political prison, a conflict arose between various factions that wanted different things both for the government and for Dorrego’s future, and in a pause at, I believe, the modern day Plaza de Mayo, where he requested an audience with Lavalle, instead the latter sent out a military detail with orders to execute him via firing squad. He was given an hour to write some letters to put his affairs in order – he wrote three, one to a lifelong friend, one to his wife, and one to his daughter, and then was summarily shot – the description of the execution is pretty graphic, but essentially resulted in a near complete decapitation by bullet-fire.

The avenue that bears his name, fittingly runs from the working/middle class neighborhoods of Chacarita, Villa Crespo and La Paternal, more or less at a point that they all come together, and then straddles the line between the first two, then cuts across Chacarita, into Palermo and finally Las Cañitas, ending at the domestic airport.

Dorrego starts at Avenida Warres, an area mostly populated by auto parts stores and auto repair shops.

Within a couple of blocks it passes under the San Marín train line.

And pops up next to a huge casino. I don’t know why, but I was under the impression that casinos were illegal within city limits, and that’s the reason the big casino in Puerto Madero is on a floating barge, off-shore.

The pretty two-block stretch of the Parque del Ejercito de los Andes (the park of the Andean army), is off to the left and reaches to Chacarita Cemetery, a fascinating little side trip should you care to make it. You could also make a couple of block side trip, should it be a Wednesday or Saturday, to El Galpón, the organic market.

After crossing Av. Corrientes the area becomes much more residential, tree-line streets, it’s really quite pretty.

Not everything is rosy, though for someone living on the street, whomever has this setup seems to have figured a way to make it rather cozy.

I am, of course, always hungry, and spotting a branch of Le Blé, the main location of which is on nearby Av. Álvarez Thomas, I decided to stop in for a light bite.

One of the best croque madame sandwiches I think I’ve ever had. Absolutely delicious! And accompanied by an excellent lemonade, I was restored to vigor for the next stretch.

Honestly, not a whole lot architecturally interesting on this walk, but, here and there.

The area turns a bit more industrial, and there’s the famous, or perhaps infamous, Mercado de las Pulgas – Flea Market – known for everything from used furniture, odds and ends, to drug traffic, to being a center of anti-government political activism.

The whole neighborhood near to here is filled with secondhand furniture shops – it’s a great place to get deals on things you need for your home if you’re local.

Somebody help me out here. I’ve looked at a dozen different maps and every one of them says this huge building complex is something different, from residential to office, to the Edesur power company headquarters, to a school, to the government site of an unnamed ministry. And asking the guard at the gate got me nowhere, just an order to go away and not ask questions.

The street crosses the Mitre train line, and then more or less shadows it for much of the rest of the walk.

Coming out of the industrial area, we reach the crossover point where Av. Santa Fé changes to Av. Cabildo, Dorrego being the dividing line.

On the far side is the army’s war college, presumably where officers train to conduct them. And that seems a good stopping point for this post, a bit more than halfway physically – the rest in the next post….

 Every man should be born again on the first day of January. Start with a fresh page. Take up one hole more in the buckle if necessary, or let down one, according to circumstances; but on the first of January let every man gird himself once more, with his face to the front, and take no interest in the things that were and are past.”

Henry Ward Beecher, minister

It’s time once again for the wrap-up of the leftover photos from last month, Beecher’s admonition notwithstanding. Let’s see, what do we have here…

With few restaurants open on January 1st, Henry and I hit the sidewalks of Village Recoleta, where, actually, most places were bustling with business. Deciding to try something new, we plunked down at a table at La Nonna Angulina, where they offer up various combinations of all you can eat pizza, pasta, and/or salads. Let’s just say we won’t be repeating that experience.

The Disco supermarket near me is offering up 1 kg cylinders of their acceptable white cheddar that is normally only seen in thin wedges. It’s no English Farmhouse, but it at least gets into the ballpark.

Even for $2.65 I can’t quite bring myself to sample the Lambrusco in a can that’s dotting the shelves in Barrio Chino all of the sudden. I’m not sure which scares me more, the can or the price.

Working on a healthier version of the salt and fat laden revuelto gramajo using herb-roasted pork loin, and onions and potatoes cooked down in vegetable stock and a touch of olive oil. It’s really quite good and I used it in last weekend’s column in the BA Herald. I’m going to play with it a little bit more before springing it on one of our dinners, or perhaps some brunch guests.

I’m reading through the biography of Bernard Loiseau, The Perfectionist, the French chef who hit the international news a few years back after committing suicide after losing his three-star Michelin status. There was a description of an interesting way of making the “perfect” fried egg, just barely set in warm butter – it’s actually almost like poaching it in butter rather than frying it. But damn it’s good.

I am informed by a site that keeps track of such things, Twopcharts, that today is my three year anniversary of tweeting via my Casa SaltShaker account (there’s a whopping lot of information on that site about people’s twitter accounts – just in case you thought all those offhand thoughts you’ve tweeted were thankfully lost to all time). It really doesn’t seem that long! My first tweet was: “Testing a recipe for braised rabbit with peppers, rosemary and bacon” – pictured above, coniglio peperonata – it was for a class that I was teaching that week. I only had one follower at that point, a friend who I used to work with in New York at Veritas restaurant.

As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, I’d gone to Fundación Proa for a particular exhibit. It’s an archaeological display of artifacts recovered, primarily, from the Cempoala (“Place of Twenty Waters”) site in Veracrúz, Mexico, and focuses on the imagery related to religious practices there in the 14th and 15th century. Entitled Dioses, ritos y oficios del México (a bit of a misnomer since it’s specific to one particular part of the country, and one particular indigenous group), it’s open pretty much daily at the gallery until February 21st. And, completely fascinating.

Third photo brings the movie “9″ to mind, no? Enough so to me anyway that I wonder if Shane Acker, or Tim Burton, saw the traveling exhibit before creating the film’s imagery.

And, enjoy the café. Just remember I warned you about the prawn pasta.

Continuing on to the final Montevideo post, basically, from the far right edge of the red circle I cut straight down to the shoreline and then just walked the rambla, or boardwalk, pretty much to the eastern edge of what’s shown on the map – though it does continue east from there.

The rambla is one of Montevideo’s nicest features, it actually begins at the far western edge at that little point of land and goes all the way to the east, without interruption, a well maintained pathway for “rambling”. The shoreline changes from fairly rocky in the west, to an okay beach along the western side of Parque Rodó, then around the lighthouse point and up to a very nice beach along the eastern edge that then continues on out east.

Just about where I started on the rambla is the Mercosur parliament building.

Looking back at the western part of the city across the beach – so at this point I’ve already walked a fair distance over something like two hours, and I have another two or so until I’m supposed to meet a friend for lunch in the eastern part of the city.

Welcome to the rambla.

Really, welcome. Most of the shots of the beach that I have are just sort of random people doing whatever, and some dogs splashing about in the water. I continue on south along the shoreline, staying on the pathway, and once past the western beach…

…the rambla moves a bit inland and the southern section as it rounds the point is more of a park area with a rocky shore. I move off the path and walk through the park right along the “cliff” edge.

And, discover that there’s a holocaust memorial. It’s very abstract.

Very abstract, but I spend some time wandering about in it. It’s well maintained, at the very least.

And when you come around onto the eastern side of the bulge, the entire character of the city has changed – gleaming midrise apartment buildings, beautiful sand beaches, lots of statues in the parks and on street corners. This is Punta Carretas, Pocitos, and on to the edge of Buceo, which is pretty much my destination. The further east, the more packed the beach, though by this point the temperature has edged up to around 40-42°C (105-110°F). I’m turning into a roasted lobster, and many people are starting to head for shade… or perhaps lunch.

My destination is Gardenia, located in the base of one of the office and shopping buildings of the Montevideo Shopping Center. Why? You might ask. Because chef Coquel at Tandory the night before highly recommended it, and my friend that I hoped to meet up with said it was a favorite spot of hers. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to make it, so I lunched alone. Pretty much completely alone as no one else came in the place until I was almost leaving when a group of four guys from one of the offices upstairs and an older couple came in to eat. Owned by a young couple, one Brazilian and one Spanish, the food is an interesting fusion of Spanish tapas and Brazilian classic dishes, reworked for a modern style. And, apparently, this was their first day back from a several week vacation closure, and they were completely unprepared – my waitress basically told me “we don’t have half the menu” (which is short to begin with) “because the chefs haven’t gotten around to preparing things.” Not auspicious, especially when some of those things turn out to be their line of specialty fresh-made juices, which according to the menu are made to order, but apparently aren’t, as “no one has gotten around to making them yet”. How hard is it to throw some fruit in the juicer and add ice?

Even more inauspicious, when a bucket of sliced, ordinary white bread – the ubiquitous stuff that we have everywhere here – is brought to the table with a dish of chopped tomatoes and a pat of butter that’s so soft it won’t stay on the knife – I think it’s flavored with cinnamon and rosemary.

One of the few appetizers they’ve actually got available, lamb croquettes – actually quite good, although the sickly sweet mustard dipping sauce is, sickly sweet. They’d have been better with a sharp mustard. Still, they’re really well made and quite tasty.

Only two seafood dishes are available, a fideua and a moqueca. I’m leaning towards the former but my waitress asserts that “it’s all angel hair pasta with almost no seafood, the moqueca is a better, bigger, more satisfying dish.” Who can turn that down. I’d hate to see the pasta bowl, because this moqueca, despite being absolutely spot-on delicious, could have fit in a coffee cup, despite the bowl it was served in. Three prawns, four 3/4″ cubes of fish, and maybe three thin strips of calamari – all cooked perfectly, in an excellent broth, and all finished in about two minutes. Nicely served with more toasted farina that’s a nice touch – I think I’ll add that to my moqueca too. Delicious food, but way too little of it for the price (I just realized I haven’t been giving prices, I’m going to go back and add those to the last few posts) – lunch, consisting of the two dishes, one bottle of water and one glass of orange juice (the only juice they were willing to make, not even on their menu), ran 775 uruguayos, or $40. I was still hungry and almost went to Chivitos Marcos, my favorite chivito uruguayo stand in Montevideo, a branch of which was only half a block away, but figured that might be a little over the top. I should have gone. Instead, headed back to the apartment for a long cold shower for my now lobster red skin, and stayed in working for the afternoon…

…until it was time for dinner. I’d run a couple of my planned places by chef Coquel and he’d shot down a couple of them as having gone downhill, or in two cases, because during the summer the chefs are away and the restaurants are pretty much running on empty. Plus, I was feeling a bit roasted and decided to keep it close to the apartment. Of the two spots on my list, one turned out to be closed, so it was off to the much touted “special occasion” spot of Rara Avis, in the Teatro Solis building. It’s got a jazz club sort of theme to it, very elegant, tuxedo clad waiters, a maitre d’ in a high class suit, and relatively hushed conversation (other than the young couple with their young daughter who screamed at the top of her lungs and ran around for the first twenty minutes I was there until they finally packed it up and left. Most people were casually dressed, but other than that couple (shorts and t-shirts), all were nicely dressed.

A team of waiters again, but professional about it all, and not annoying the way they were at Francis, my first evening in town. Truthfully, it was a very special experience, with some strange little missteps that marred it. The meal began with an amuse plate of pickled vegetables, pate, salmon mousse, tapenade. All tasty. Happy as a clam. Bread service, however – again, plain white bread sliced off a baguette-ish loaf, tasteless, and served with rock-hard, ice-cold butter. A place like this ought to have better bread service.

This time I was happy to chat with the sommelier. The winelist, first off, it outrageously expensive – I suppose not a surprise in this kind of place, but the list starts off with “sommelier’s recommendations”, that ranged from around 2000 uruguayos (just under $100) to 30000 ($1500). Even the rest of the list was marked up high – prices were about double what I’d seen on other restaurant lists. I picked out a trio of interesting sounding whites and roses, something different from the usual Uruguayan selections, and the sommelier’s response, with no pretension, was that they were there as curiosities, but he’d inherited them from his predecessor and didn’t really think they were all that good. He steered me to what turned out to be a fascinating and delicious wine from Bodega Marichal, a Pinot Noir Blanc de Noirs with a bit of Chardonnay blended in – kind of like a bubble-free champagne. Great choice!

The mango and prawn salad caught my eye with its “black tigger” prawns, tomato, mango, avocado, and a green salad with a passionfruit vinaigrette. Spectacular. I was still happy as a clam.

The three-way of rabbit arrived with mixed results. First, I love rabbit, but it’s hard to cook it right. The trio of preparations included a confited hindquarter – perfect; a pamplona and moussaka – the tall tube of phyllo pastry there, filled with shredded rabbit meat, delicious, and on its side, at the very back, a little curled up bit of what I assume was pork belly wrapped around the rabbit kidneys and liver – I’m guessing the former was the moussaka and the latter the pamplona; and, the disappointment on the plate, the grilled tenderloins, which were so overcooked as to be dry and inedible. But I was broaching on full, so I just nibbled at them, and didn’t finish them.

Two minor service missteps through here – I was asked after my first course if all was well, but not any time after that – or I would have said something about the rabbit tenderloin; and second, as you might note in the picture, the wine bucket and the water are on a little sideboard at the end of the table – too far away to comfortably just reach, and I repeatedly had to signal for someone to pour both water and wine, despite the fact that waiters, manager, and sommelier passed by the table regularly, and they’d look, but it didn’t seem to register that glasses were empty unless I signed for them to do something about it.

I love citrus desserts and decided since it was my last night out to go for it. They did have a sampler plate of desserts available on the menu, but the waiter couldn’t guarantee that the pastry chef would put the trilogy of citrus preparations on it, so I went with just the latter, since I wasn’t all that interested in all the chocolate and other desserts on the list. A lemon and olive oil cake, a cocoa sponge cake, an orange creme brulle, grapefruit ice cream with almonds, and a lemon parfait with mburucuyá ice cream – I assumed that they were talking about maracuyá, or passionfruit, but the waiter assured me not, however online searches and hey, wait, I wrote the freakin’ dictionary on the subject, assures me that it is. Perhaps a different variety of passionfruit, but still, very recognizably, passionfruit.

Overall, a really elegant and delightful night out. Great food other than the rabbit tenderloin strips and the bread. Great wine. Mostly great service, though not as polished as one might be led to expect from a place that is of this supposed caliber. Expensive. 1900 uruguayos, or nearly $100. Then again, that’s less than some places here in BA that I’ve had less satisfying meals at. And, all three dinners I’d have to take into account that I ordered full bottles of wine, despite not drinking much over half of each, had I been with someone to share the bottles it would have brought the price on all three meals down on a per person basis.

And that, for the moment, finishes off my Montevideo trip – the following day I only had the morning, it was on and off raining, the electricity had gone off in the evening and was still off in the morning, for the whole area I was staying in (though I was right at the edge, so literally across the street the cafe had power and I had internet access. And, falling prey to be generally helpful, it turned out that the electric company guys arrived while I was sitting in the cafe and the owner had already left for work, so I ended up letting them into the building to do the repair work on and off over a two hour period, and they did get it back on, but that kind of killed my morning. Was thinking of zipping over to the Mercado del Puerto again for another lunch, but was feeling a bit over-saturated with rich food and wine from the night before and decided a steak lunch wasn’t in order. I grabbed a quick sandwich and something to drink, met up with the building owner who returned at lunch hour to collect the keys, and headed to the bus and back to Colonia, the ferry, and back home. And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Winding down – my last full day in Montevideo. You remember that whole thing about not going to Asunción because of the heat and Montevideo having lower temps? Well, Tuesday wasn’t so cooperative, with temperatures spiking at 42°C (108°F). The morning didn’t start out that way as I headed south and east…

…into the pink oval. First passing through (the red oval) an open air food market in Barrio Sur and then having decided that I’d walk the rambla, the boardwalk, from there all the way to points east where I was (I hoped, as my internet access was spotty and I wasn’t sure…) meeting a friend for lunch.

Lots of pretty things to see in the market….

On through Palermo heading towards the rambla.

Cool door, no?

The federal court building.

Caught in the act. Even suits at the federal penitentiary have to catch up on their texting… maybe he was checking his Grindr profile….

Just a building I liked.

Some sort of German church, at least based on the various signs and such on it.

A little passageway back to someone’s home.

Montevideo’s equivalent of cartoneros, picking up recyclables and resellables.

And that’s where I’m going to stop on this post. I think, last Montevideo post coming up next, the walk along the beach and my last two real meals in town. Depending on how many rambla walk photos look interesting that could get split into two. Then, back to local BA programming with my step-by-step preparation of pollo al chilindrón, last weekend’s dinners, and maybe a restaurant review or two.