I love fishing. You put that line in the water and you don’t know what’s on the other end. Your imagination is under there.”

- Robert Altman, Director

My recent trip up to San Pedro got me thinking about the various fish that are available to eat here in Buenos Aires and surrounds. It is often asserted that no or few fish are eaten here, that there is nowhere to get a decent fish dish in town, etc. Not true. There are plenty of good places for fish and shellfish here. True, most of them are not “Argentine” restaurants, but some are – the majority are Asian, of all stripes, Spanish and Peruvian. But even amongst the local cuisine there are a good number that offer up interesting fish dishes. Now a few things are to my mind, mistakes. It is quite common to see a Roquefort sauce offered up atop a fish – all well and good if we’re talking a good, strong flavored fish, but too often it’s ladled over lenguado or mero, or something equally delicate in the whitefish world.

Over the next couple of months I’m going to be exploring some of the local classic fish dishes. I thought I’d start, however, by introducing you to the local fish. And, we’ll begin with the common freshwater fish of the Rio de la Plata and Paraná Delta. It is unfortunate that not more advantage is taken of these fish, because some of them are absolutely delicious. Most local spots, if they offer any freshwater fish it will be salmon or trout, from Chile or Bariloche, respectively, or Pejerrey, a fish we’ll get to momentarily. Only one spot in town specializes in the preparation of fish from the river, Jangada, which I recommend giving a try. All of these photos come from the fish stores near to my house, so they’re readily available, particularly during the summer.

Since I just brought it up, let’s start with the Pejerrey, or South American Silverside family, Genus: Odontesthes, with several species, including platensis, bonariensis and others. The most common eating fish locally is probably the bonariensis, or Argentine Silverside. These are not big fish, in general – tending to be about 6-10 inches long, and very thin. The meat is gleaming white, with a silvery sheen or stripe on the outside. They have a fairly delicate flavor and are generally served up simply grilled or fried.

This is the Boga, or Leporinus obtusidens. sometimes also called piava or tres puntos. In Brazil, the piapara. It’s a greenish grey fish, generally weighing in around 2-3 kg (5-6 pounds), though there have been catches of boga that were as much as 8 kg (17.5 pounds). As an omnivore, it eats everything from grasses to crabs and snails, though its preferred food is cereal grains, and boga can often be found in abundance near places where cargo ships are loading or off-loading. I generally find that boga has a very strange, ammonia-like taste to it that isn’t overly pleasant – particularly when grilled.

The Carpa, or common Carp, Cyprinus carpio. Based on what research I’ve done, I gather that the carpa is not native to these waters, but, as in many places, and invasive species. I rarely see them and was actually surprised to see one being offered in one of the fish markets. They’re omnivorous as well, eating primarily worms, crustaceans, insects and water plants. And, well, carp is carp – not a great eating fish, best used, as far as I’m concerned, ground up as part of making gefilte fish.

The Dorado, unrelated to the Mediterranean fish called dorade, which in English is a sea bream and in Spanish is besugo, a saltwater fish, this is the Golden Dorado, Salminus maxillosus or Salminus brasiliensis. They are powerful swimmers, with powerful jaws and sharp teeth. They range anywhere from 3-10 kg typically, though the largest on record weighed in at 31.4 kg (69 pounds). They are piscivores, eating primarily just other fish, their favorite being the sábalo. They have very fat rich meat and are great on the grill or fried. They’re often served up a la vasca, or Basque style, with a saute of tomatoes and bell peppers.

The Pacú is an omnivorous fish in the piranha family, and they look it, with though their teeth are slightly different – more squared off than the razorsharp ones of the piranha, and more of an overbite. There are several species in the family, though the most common in the delta here is the Piaractus mesopotamicus, also known as pez chato (“flat fish”), mbiraí, or piraí. These are fat rich fish, and again great for grilling. Most of the ones found here tend to be no more than about 2 kg in weight, though there are related species, like the giant pacú, which can grow to more than a meter in length and weigh in at 30+ kg.

The Pati or Pez Gato is a long-whiskered freshwater catfish. They live in turbulent waters and so are well suited to the Rio de la Plata. Although omnivorous, they are primarily carnivorous, eating other fish and shellfish. They can easily grow to more than a meter in length. And, well, they taste like catfish – we’ll just have to introduce the locals to cornmeal crusts and a bit of hot sauce!

I could only find Surubí already cut up into steaks (“trozado”). In English known as the tiger shovelnose catfish, Brazilian tigerfish, or Tiger Sorubim, there are a trio of different species present in the delta, all belonging to the genus Pseudoplatystoma. The local name surubí is the native Guarani name for the fish, which is also known in various locales as doncella, zúngaro, moleque, pintado, bagre rayado, or pintadillo. They are piscivores, eating a wide variety of other fish, though, like the dorado above, they are particularly fond of sábalo. They are notable in the color of their flesh, which is a sort of peach orange-yellow, and are one of my favorites. (Various photos from others)

The Tararira or Trahira, is known as the wolf-fish or sometimes tiger-fish in English. It is a predatory fish, weighing in around 1-3 kg. It is an unusual fish as well, having some capacity for air-breathing, meaning it can propel itself on its fins across land from one pool of freshwater to another. It has a host of other common names, including Dientón or similar names in reference to its teeth, Bululu, Calabrote, Dormilón, Guabina, Guanchiche, Mocho, Moncholo, Perraloca, Perro, Rivolo, Tarango, Tarucha among them. I find it to be very bony, and difficult to work with, and other than encountering it a couple of years ago in a local fish market have never seen them here., though a quick internet search reveals several local recipes – which, if I can find the fish again, we’ll be giving a try.

On to the poor Sábalo, the favorite food fish of many of the carnivorous fish of the river. These are a small member of the tarpon family, and go by the latin moniker Prochilodus lineatus. It is a mudsucker (and is also known as the chupabarro, literally mudsucker), inhabiting deep waters and sucking up organic mud, which it processes and filters to get to whatever flora and fauna are buried there for its feed. The fish is, as noted, pretty much the foundation of the food chain for larger piscivores, and with human fishing, it is a species that is rapidly in decline – which may be why I haven’t seen any recently in the fish markets. I know that there are fishing limits on it, and there have been temporary bans at different points in time. I haven’t tried one, so can’t tell you what it tastes like, though the whole mudsucking thing doesn’t bode well for flavor….

 Then she was given dinner with all the nice parts left out and sent to bed for two solid hours. It was a thing that happened to one quite often in those days.”

- from C.S. Lewis, The Magician’s Nephew, Book 6, Chronicles of Narnia

It’s been quite some time since my last shawarma update, and I’d not really planned to do another, but then PlanetaJoy published a list of their favorites, three of which I was unfamiliar with (as it turned out, because they’re all brand spanking new). By now, however, I’m wary about their reports – their focus is on quantity and price for most of their food reporting, particularly their quick eats kind of listings – and their bent is very definitely to the local palate. So, none of what I found on these three visits surprised me….

Malakeh, Charcas 5002, Palermo – It’s unlikely there’s a more solidly porteño style of shawarma, anywhere. The place, despite various signs asserting itself as a middle eastern restaurant, has a menu that’s about 75% classic, local parrilla. The folks working there don’t appear to be middle eastern in origin, and the majority of customers were having steaks or milanesas with fries – in fact, I think I was the only person in the room having anything off the short middle eastern menu. Instead of a wrap, the shawarma is stuffed into a very commercial, grocery store pita. The meat does not come broiled off of a rotisseries, but appears to be coarsely chopped up gristly steak trimmings that have been sauteed in oil, unseasoned except for salt. Some salsa criolla (tomato, bell pepper and onion in vinegar) is added, a thin white sauce that was likely just watered down yogurt was spooned into it, and the whole thing is served with a side of fries (unless you can talk them into a salad, as I did). The only sauces available are ketchup, mayonnaise, mustard, and chimichurri. This one was a major fail.

Hola! Siniór (their spelling, not mine), Honduras 5328, Palermo. An interesting take on a shawarma stand, basically takeout only, with a few chairs scattered around. It’s pretty much all they sell – a few other middle eastern items available. The staff, again not middle eastern, mostly Paraguayan it seemed, and setup like any hotdog stand here in town. Overall, decent. The meat quality was good – they have a choice of beef, chicken, and… drum roll… pork – which may very well make it the only pork shawarma on the planet given its prohibition in both Muslim and Jewish cultures. Nicely seasoned with salt, paprika and lemon. And like hotdog stands, there’s an array of condiments to be put into your shawarma – from classic tahini and hot sauce (which was no spicier than hot paprika, unfortunately), to ketchup, mayo, pickle relish, bbq sauce, etc., etc. – right down to the usual offering of papitas, the ubiquitous shoestring potatoes that are used as a classic crunchy topping here on hotdogs. People were lined up to get in and buy. And, if I was in the area, I’d go back.

Al Zain, Arce 488, Las Cañitas. I really wanted to like this one because it was hard as hell to finally get a shawarma. Despite advertising that they’re open seven days a week from noon to 4pm and 7pm to 1am, we first went on a Monday only to find them closed. Actually, they were there, but loading up a van for some sort of catering event, told us they weren’t open Mondays, but come back tomorrow. We did, the following day, only to find the place locked up, and some of the equipment stripped out it, including the wall mounted shawarma rotisseries. I back burnered it for a week or so and then had to be in the area again and thought we’d give it one more shot. This time it was open and the rotisseries restored to the wall, but they were unlit and without meat. We were assured that there would be shawarma in around half an hour (turned out to be 45 minutes as they brought out the raw meat on a skewer and started it broiling, but in the meantime we’d sampled some other things… more in another post). Paper thin pita bread, completely bland (a little salt in the dough, dip it in some juices, I don’t know…), the meat unseasoned, mixed with a little tomato and lettuce and drizzled with what again appeared to be watered down yogurt. No tahini in evidence. A request for hot sauce yielded up a small dish of a vaguely spicy chili puree. Another fail.

I’ve hesitated a few days about writing this up, mostly because I don’t want family and friends to be worried about living here in BA, nor people who don’t really know the city to take this as a sign of insecurity here in town. In the end though, it’s not something that couldn’t have happened in any big city, anywhere. We wuz robbed, as they say. Oh, it’s at least partly our own fault. I was out with a friend and headed to barrio corea for lunch one afternoon last week. Turns out the 101 bus, apparently, and though not listed in the Guia T bus guide, has two different routes – one of which goes right into the barrio, the other of which goes around the other side of the Villa Ilia, one of the villas misereres – generally not good spots for a couple of gringo types… well, probably anyone not from the villas… to be.

We headed up the main avenue that skirted the villa, figuring on going around it and into Korea town, but the streets are a bit convoluted, and within a couple of blocks we realized that one of the twists had taken us right into the villa, where we were spotted by a gang of 20-something thugs (not realizing it at that moment). Our choices, turn around and go back and figure out how to go around it like we’d originally planned, or continue straight ahead on the main street through the villa, to Av. Castañares, the main street separating it from the Korean area.

It was closer to go ahead, and turning back didn’t guarantee we’d be in a better area, in fact probably would have left us more open to other “spottings”. We made it actually to within half a block of the avenue when the gang of five surrounded us without warning, three of them brandishing pistols (likely not loaded, very possibly not even real, but who wants to take a chance?). With two of the weapons pointed more or less at my head, I simply let them take whatever they wanted – which unfortunately meant they got cash, camera, phone, notebook, DNI (national identity document), keys, and reading glasses. I asked if I could have back the ID, keys and glasses, but they declined… rudely I thought, after all, I’d asked politely. And then they took off, though we could see them watching us from about a block away to see what we’d do. My friend got off lucky, other than one of the five holding a gun and waving it around a bit, they didn’t take anything of his – quite lucky, since he actually had far more of value on him than I did. And thankfully, neither of us hurt other than a couple of bruises on one arm where one of them grabbed me. Everything except the notebook is basically replaceable, and even that is research that I can reproduce.

So, a cautionary tale – not that anyone in their right mind ought to be walking through one of the villas unprotected, even in broad daylight with dozens of people out on the street (who all studiously ignored what was going on), but, just to be far more careful of surroundings in this city – some of this is starting to spill over into other areas. It was noticeable, even on arrival three blocks away in Barrio Corea, that there were no people out on the streets, a neighborhood that on past visits had plenty of folk out wandering about, shopping, etc. The cop who we stopped to report to what happened clearly assumed we were in the area for nefarious purposes, probably drugs, and despite assuring him we’d come for the local food, told us to go back home, stay out of the neighborhood, and not come back. He declined to even take a report, and suggested that we could either go to the local precinct if we wanted to, but he didn’t recommend it as “they’d do nothing”, or, go back and report it in our own neighborhood precinct, where, likely, they’d do nothing either, but at least might be willing to take a report. Even at the remís service where we grabbed a car service ride back to Recoleta, they asked us what the hell we were doing in the area and recommended against it. So, I’d say, for Korean food these days here in BA, stick with Bi Won in Recoleta.

 What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.”

- Pericles, ancient Greek statesman

Buenos Aires – It amazes me sometimes how close of attention people pay to details here and on our Casa S site. I made a couple of minor changes to both the main page and the faq page, and within 24 hours had eight e-mails, seven of which were asking if I was aware that these changes “had happened” on the page. Mmmm, yup. I do my own website programming, so no one else is making the changes.

On to the topic for today, as those of you who’ve come to dinner here know, we ask for feedback after the dinners – at least for those from whom we have an e-mail address. Over time, that’s brought in a lot of great suggestions – we added the little welcome cocktail at the beginning of the evening, we changed some glassware and placemats at various points, we upped the quality of the wines we were serving (with a change in price as well, but most of the feedback was that people would rather pay a few pesos more for better quality), we changed from a four course to a five course tasting, and a few other things which I’m probably forgetting at the moment. Other things we’ve chosen not to (only play jazz, wear a chef’s uniform, change your lighting fixtures, professional flower arrangements, only let hot, single, young women make reservations when I do, be more gay, be less gay, alphabetize your books…) – it’s not personal, we just have to make decisions that make sense to us.

More recently, some things have come up that I wanted to address – some of it has come as constructive feedback, some of it as complaints in public fora, and although the latter, especially if they’re vitriolic, aren’t overly constructive, they at least give us an idea of what some folks are thinking, or at least claiming to be thinking – some of it, bluntly, is so out of touch with reality that it’s clear they’re making things up and sometimes have never even been here, but so be it, it’s out there. And, away we go:

By far the biggest constructive criticism has been about our two tables, and that’s been for a long time – quite often, the folks at the small table feel like they’ve ended up at the “kids’ table”. I understand, and although we’ve resisted changing it, mostly for financial reasons, it’s become clear that it’s necessary. We do have people who like the small table and request it, and it’s still around and available on request if you’re among them. What we’ve done is cut to ten people a night instead of twelve, and just fit in two extra seats at the big table. At the same time, we’re going to aim for opening three nights a week instead of two – probably alternating Thursdays and Sundays, at least until we see how it goes.

Second, and comes up both in feedback and some of the nasty stuff – that I don’t hang out in the dining room chatting and being friendly with everyone for the evening. This is one there’s not much I can do about it – I have the feeling that some of the people who come don’t quite get that I’m not hiding out in the kitchen ignoring them, I’m actually cooking the dinner, course by course – no assistant, just me. Some nights I can spend more time, simply depending on what needs to be done, some nights I can’t. I realize that this is our home and people have a different expectation than they’d have in a “regular” restaurant, but from my end, it’s like you showed up in a restaurant and complained because the chef isn’t hanging out at your table chatting with you. Once the dessert is served, I spend the rest of the time in the dining room, and always have, since day one – the people who claim that I don’t are either oblivious, or just full of… whatever. It does, of course, leave me at a disadvantage – the guests have had the evening to get to know each other and chat, and I don’t generally know what they’ve chatted about or not – but I’m there and happy to participate in the conversation. And, I got it, you want more participation – I’ll do my best.

Third, Henry doesn’t participate in the conversation and isn’t always in the room. True. Less true if there are people in attendance who speak Spanish – he doesn’t speak English, or at least very little, so he does get uncomfortable standing around listening to what to him is a sea of babble. And many people seem to forget that although I end up getting the majority of the “public face” of the place, he’s a partner in it, not just a waiter who I hired – he knows the ins and outs of what we do, and he knows BA and is happy to share his thoughts on clubs, dance/tango venues, etc. – stuff that he knows far better than I do. But, yeah, when feeling left out he hangs out in the kitchen while people are eating, chatting with the dishwasher, or pops upstairs and checks his e-mail. It’s not ideal, but I understand it. Oh, and talking louder and slower in English or French or another language really doesn’t automatically translate to Spanish – though many people still seem to think it does – give a shot at stumbling through some Spanish, he’ll give a shot at stumbling through some English – as he’s learned more English he’s been spending more time staying at tableside.

Fourth – quality and quantity of food and wine. As I’ve said many times, what I cook isn’t for everyone, nor is the whole experience at Casa SaltShaker. However, it only takes a few minutes of looking through our past menus with commentary on the website to see that on the same night, one guest will complain that things are too spicy and another that they’re not spicy enough. One will adore the presentation, another will not. One person is stuffed, another thinks portions were skimpy (you can always ask for more, if we have it, it’s not a problem). One person thinks the wine choices are brilliant, another thinks they’re lousy. And they either match with the food perfectly, or they don’t. It’s not a situation I can “win”. People have their own tastes, and that’s the way it is. I stand by the food that I prepare – claims that “Dan clearly knows he’s serving lousy food” are nonsense – I don’t send anything out of the kitchen that I don’t stand behind, period. If something doesn’t work out, we don’t serve it and if we don’t have a substitution, we lower the price for the evening – thankfully it’s only happened twice since we’ve been open. In terms of the wines, all I can say is that they range in price from 20 pesos to around 50 pesos a bottle, overall averaging somewhere around 30 pesos a bottle – and that’s wholesale price, which we don’t always get, sometimes we have to pay retail. They’re always wines I’ve tried, often with other friends in the wine biz. In terms of quantity, yes we initially serve a tasting portion, roughly 2-3 ounces, however, for a dozen people, we go through between 7 and 9 bottles of wine each evening (for 12 people), and unless we run out of one, we never say no to a refill – no charge. You do the math.

Finally, price. Yes, AR$150 is an expensive meal. It’s not outrageous, there are plenty of restaurants in BA that charge more. All I can do is remind anyone who’s thinking about it, especially visitors, is that translates to US$40/€28 – and it covers the welcome cocktail, five courses of food, bottled water, five wines, and coffee or tea afterwards; and, a chance to have dinner with a group of potential new friends. We don’t ask for or expect a tip on top of that, even if we’re happy to get extra when someone does leave more, we’ve never “demanded” a tip from anyone, we don’t tack on the near ubiqutous BA cubierto charge. For the people who want to compare our price to other puertas cerradas or other types of restaurants, take a look at what you’re getting for “at a lower price” – we’re in line with the other better quality spots. Still, it comes down to whether or not it works for you, and whether you enjoy yourself. Some people do, some don’t, and that will likely always be the case – and not just here at our place, but anywhere they go.

 I try to live up to my standards and not sink down to my principles.

- paraphrase of an old movie quote that I can’t quite remember, but it fits…

Buenos Aires – The blogosphere is abuzz, yes abuzz I tell you. First it was a week or two ago’s big kerfuffle over Dr. Vino calling out the Wine Advocate on writer Jay Miller accepting all sorts of freebies on his trips, things that Robert Parker specifically claims he doesn’t allow for himself or writers in his magazine. Initially there was denial from the WA camp, circling the wagons, and then there was silence. The momentum built as some (believe me, nowhere near all) of the stuff got publicly revealed, with evidence to back it. At that point, Parker had no choice but to respond, and he did, basically saying that neither he nor his guys would have anything to do with the organization down here that sponsored the trip anymore. And, lashing out at his critics, whom he lumped together as “blobbers”, as he chooses to call bloggers (he said it, I didn’t), and likening us to a cabal of jihadists out for blood. While I like and respect Parker, that was just crap, and unworthy of him. But the whole thing called attention to “ethics” of bloggers and journalists, and everyone and their mother started to weigh in on the subject, with some of the more prominent wine bloggers calling for “everyone who blogs about wine must state their code of ethics openly on their blog”.

This week, the buzz is food bloggers. Don’t know if there was a precipitating factor, but a couple of bloggers decided to create a website called Food Ethics, and, surprise, surprise, a Food Blog Code of Ethics to which they, upfront, state they’re simply doing to “draw attention to food bloggers who hold themselves to a higher standard”. Now, every food blogger out there is oohing and aahing over it. We have a code, oh joy, no one can criticize us anymore, see, there it is….

Hogwash, Balderdash, Bullshit…. if I may use those terms, and I apologize if I offended anyone with any of those words, but this is just nonsense. Here’s the thing. I’ve been a journalist, no wait, I still am, I write, openly, for magazines and newspapers in various spots around the world. And I often get paid for that. When I write for them, I am, as far as I am concerned, completely beholden to accepted journalistic standards, loose as those may often be. In those fora you can count on my journalistic integrity.

My blog, as I’ve stated often enough in posts, in response to comments, in e-mails, is nothing more than an online diary about my food, wine and travel adventures and whatever else I feel like posting about. No one, really, no one, gets to hold me to any standards. If I wanted it to be an online “journal” with journalistic standards, I’d charge you guys a subscription fee and get paid, probably not much, to do this. Last I checked, I pay for this site and can pretty much do what I want with it.

Now, some of what they state in their code is just fine – I mean, my blog is about as far from anonymous as it can be – I’ve got a picture, a bio, many of my readers have been to my home, they know where I live and work, so to speak. But no, I’m not going to promise to be civil, other than as civil as my mom and dad raised me to be, and sometimes I may step outside of that – not often because it’s not my style, but sometimes. Revealing bias? Gifts? Comps? Conflicts of interest? Maybe, depends, I usually do say something if I got something for free or if I’m friends with a chef or whatever it may be, but nope, don’t promise to do so. In terms of what they consider to be “the rules of good journalism” – yeah, fine – not because of the code of ethics, but just because I respect other writers and photographers out there and if they wrote something or took a photo, and I’m using it for some reason, I’m giving them their props. And I ask for and hope for the same. Common courtesy, not a professional code.

So, in sum, I’m not subscribing to the codes of ethics proposed by any of the bandwagon hopping, flag waving, cheerleading crowd on either the food or wine blogging side. All that speechifyin’ just reminds me of one of those high school or college organizations where someone in the corner starts whining about how we have to have rules, how we can’t just go do things, and in order to shut them up, everyone sighs and raises their hand to approve the charter or the code or the procedural manual, and pretty soon, kills the organization.

So, here’s what you get from me – I promise to post my opinons, speculations, researches, conjectures, etc. about whatever I feel like doing so, and, to do my best to keep it entertaining. Totally subjective, no pretense at objectivity. Anything else, any expectations, standards, ethics, rules, or the like – just be clear that they’re yours, not mine.

I imagine at least a few of you will manage to live with that.

 The “double speak” in tourism material, in a country as new and immature as Argentina is to tourism, is lamentably common, much like the “double price” (for foreigners versus locals) that many practice since the devaluation of the peso, starting with our own Argentine government. That “native cunning”, along with the inefficiency of domestic air transport is in my opinion, the major threat to the future of tourism in Buenos Aires and Argentina.

- Diego Bigongiari, BUE, Buenos Aires and Surrounds, Traveler’s Guide [my translation]

Buenos Aires – Most of us have gotten used to the double pricing for many things here in Argentina and particularly in Buenos Aires. However, the majority of those have been things that have some level of government sponsorship or ownership, or at least patronage – museums, state theaters, domestic airlines, national and state parks. The general approach is that legal residents (which includes foreigners who have a national identity card and residency visa) get a 50% discount – the tacit assumption being that they pay some level of taxes and that that entitles them to a better rate. The truth is, those without simply pay double – the unspoken part being “they’re all rich foreigners and we poor Argentines deserve everything we can take from them”. The monetary effect is the same, the psychological is not.

I’ve even seen or heard of the occasional foreigner who gets hit for “the same price” but gets told that the “$” in front of the price stands for dollars, not pesos. Not true – the standard here, and anyone who lives here knows it, is that if the price is in dollars they use “US$” or “U$” or even “U$S” in front of the numbers – a dollar sign by itself is a peso sign. Period. Punto.

Today, a friend who is headed down to visit sent me a query, as one of the hotels that I’ve recommended, many times over the last few years, seemed to be charging him an exhorbitant rate. Indeed, it was easily double his last visit, less than two years ago. The hotel, the Juncal Palace Hotel, here in my ‘hood. And, I went to their site…

…and, right there, in black and white (and, by the way, illegal here for a private business, I should point out), a rate sheet giving, basically, one-third off to residents, or, more accurately, charging foreigners a 40% upcharge, simply because they foreigners. Needless to say, this place just came off my recommended list. Now, I know they’re not beholden to me, but over the last four plus years I’ve probably sent them 25-30 customers. No more. Same goes for anyplace else I find doing the same thing. Period. Punto.