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.

 Don’t worry about the world coming to an end today. It is already tomorrow in Australia.”

- Charles Schulz, cartoonist

It was Australia Day once again – how is it that even without my posting themes anymore, the Australians visiting Buenos Aires seem to gravitate to Casa S on Australia Day? I wasn’t even really using it as much of an inspiration, though I did go back to our first Australia Day celebration and pull a little bit from it. My goodness looking back at some of those early dinners, I wonder, what was I thinking? It’s not that the food was bad, it was just not all that interesting. The only thing I can really think is, thank goodness for evolution or intelligent design, or at least having customers who stuck with us and gave us the opportunity to keep improving! Then again – I also look back at the couple of comments we received from those evenings and they were all like, “superb”, “wonderful”, “truly memorable”…. Go figure.

So there were Australians this weekend. And folk from all sorts of interesting places – Sweden, Holland, Argentina, Brazil, the U.S., the U.K., Canada, the Caribbean. Thursday and Friday were jam packed with folk, Saturday was full until last minute – four of the people who were reserved for Saturday showed up on Friday, thinking it was Saturday, and then called me a bit after noon on Saturday to say that they couldn’t change their other Saturday plans (funny how they didn’t get the “other Saturday” event confused), and then around 4 p.m., another couple sent an e-mail to say one was headed into the hospital and they weren’t going to be able to make it. We waited until about 6 p.m. to see if we got any late calls and then put out an all-call with a discount offer, and filled up quickly – in fact, so quickly that I was getting multiple people confirming at the same time, so we ended up having to offer to set up the small table for a party of three.

You might have noticed that I’m on a kick of chilled soups with ice creams or sorbets in them. I’m having fun exploring them, and the kick will continue for a bit longer, at least as long as we’re having our nice, steamy hot weather in BA. They’re likely to end up with their own chapter in my cookbook, should I ever buckle down and get the thing finished – which is looking good, as Henry’s going to be spending a good part of the next couple of months in Peru, so I’m going to have a lot of uninterrupted time on my hands. Back to the soup – started with the idea of a vichyssoise, and, in a sense, deconstructed and then added other bits in. The soup – onion, potato, zucchini, garlic, thyme, chicken bones, salt and white pepper – cooked together until the vegetables were soft, then removed the bones and thyme stalks and pureed the rest, chilled it down, adjusted the seasoning. The ice cream – sauteed leeks in butter and then pureed them with some watercress, milk, salt, and just a touch of chipotle pepper for heat. Then mixed the puree with heavy cream and ran it through the ice cream maker. Some crispy fried chickpeas mostly for texture, but they also add a nice flavor to the whole mix.

A heart of palm fritter – spiced up with garlic, chives and cayenne – fried up until golden brown and then served over what is, essentially, creamy Italian dressing mixed with pureed avocado – delicious by the way as a salad dressing or with fish, or as a dip for vegetables. Some cherry tomatoes roasted in butter, salt and vanilla, and a little green onion atop. Every time I make these heart of palm fritters people love ‘em – they were actually a creation for one of our vegetarian cooking class series on US regional cuisine that started out as classic Floribbean conch fritters.

I’m also, I know, inordinately fond of my savory tarte tatins – this one a smoky bacon and portobello mushroom one, the sweetness from maple syrup – the real thing, not flavored sugar water. Topped with a little radichetta salad in a light vinaigrette.

The final two courses were reworkings of dishes from that first Australia Day dinner – here, a slice of roasted pork loin crusted in my blackening spice mixture – so first seared to caramelize the spices and herbs, then into the oven to cook to a medium-rare/medium (yes, pork that’s not well done and dried out). Served up with a roasted beet that’s then caramelized in butter, salt, pepper, and a bit of rosehip jam. For a sauce, acelga a la crema – creamed swiss chard – though lightened up a bit, instead of cream I use a skim milk bechamel to which I add grated grana padano cheese and some crispy prosciutto – okay, I know that’s not light, but imagine if it was also a mix of whole milk and heavy cream in there! And I’m not running a spa, after all.

And, a cocoa pionono with a toasted coconut pastry cream (made with a mix of milk and coconut milk plus the toasted coconut), served up with the salted bourbon caramel sauce I’ve been playing with. I should just jar that stuff and sell it.

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.

We’ve all seen those postcards of Buenos Aires with the rows of bright colored buildings along what appears to be a whole waterfront area, El Caminito. It’s practically the symbol of the city in some tour guides. And, if you go, you’ll find them, not near as many as the postcards make it look, the Caminito is only a couple of square blocks, and that amazing street fair with tango dancers everywhere will be reduced to a dozen, here and there, pimping for spare change on the streets. Mostly what you’ll get is a lot touting for souvenir shops and shilling for amazing restaurants (that aren’t). In general, other than an obligatory visit before I knew what it was all about, I avoid the Caminito like the plague that it is (it also stinks, being located right along a sewage and garbage filled stretch of the Riochuela River – somewhat cleaner these days than it was a few years ago, but only right in front of the tourist trap area. And I never recommend it to visitors. Getting to and from it is also a chore, unless you take local buses or spring for a taxi – these days I’m hearing more and more about how unsafe the area immediately surrounding it has become – I haven’t ventured out that way in awhile, other than a recent aborted stab at lunch at Patagonia Sur, the only restaurant in the ‘hood that gets any real play.

The real story, by the way, is that while it may have been a dockworkers’ neighborhood, it was neither colorful nor playful. It was so rundown it was basically a condemned blight in the city. Artist Benito Quinquela Martin, whose eponymous museum (which I’ve never written up, as my only visit there was pre-blogging days) is located right along the main strip, decided in 1954 to undertake turning the neighborhood into a street art project. He restored buildings, painted them “pastel colors” (really? those are not what I call pastels), and pushed for the whole touristy thing. The project was, more or less, complete in 1960, though it took another decade to finish off touches here and there and get people to even think about coming to the area.

But somewhere in the back of my mind rumbled a bit about a restaurant at another museum, or gallery, Fundación PROA, Pedro de Mendoza 1929. There were allusions to a pair of brothers, supposedly amazing, near world-famous, chefs, who were in charge of the place. Given that rumbling you’d have thought I’d have heard more and maybe even checked it out. “Los Petersen”, the Petersen brothers, Roberto and Christian, as best I can determine, are a couple of local caterers who are really good at self-promotion. They also were known for being the toques behind the kitchens at the Yacht Clubs here in BA and up in San Isidro. And, at some point, I guess they had something to do with the menu at Café PROA. I don’t know when, there’s no mention of them on the cafe’s or museum’s website, and the few references I found are years old.

I’ll get to the museum/gallery in the next post, because I actually picked going here due to an exhibition I wanted to see, and it seemed like a good moment to give the cafe a try. There may be an elevator somewhere, I’m not sure, but you’ll be hungry after the three story climb to the top floor of the building and the cafe…. Thankfully, even just visually, it’s worth the effort, it’s a simply gorgeous, airy space, with an open kitchen…

…a lovely balcony, which, at least while I was there was unshaded (there are roll down awnings, but they weren’t in use that day, so I decided to sit inside to eat. And, there’s a nice view out over the river, which looks and smells far prettier when you’re not too up-close.

The menu is pretty basic – salads, sandwiches, pastas, and a couple of other main courses. Nothing particularly fancy, and nothing that sounded overly creative. Perhaps that’s why Los Petersen are no longer there? It doesn’t strike me as the sort of place that people would make a destination dining spot, most of my fellow diners were museum visitors, a few local business people, and museum staff, for whom it seems to be the cafeteria. Nice bread service – a little bit of a flatbread and some mini-biscuits, which were ever so slightly underdone, but eminently edible. Wines by the glass include a choice of two different chardonnays or two different malbecs – and there’s not much more to the wine list – pretty much the same by the bottle. A little creativity and selection might have been nice.

A generous smoked salmon salad with arugula and brie, dressed in a creamy lemon vinaigrette. Really quite good, and honestly I’d have been happy with just that – as an appetizer it’s more of a sharing size than individual.

Another generous, but rather disappointing dish for the main course. The spinach fettucine were really thick, and completely overcooked, the prawns at least were plump and juicy, but the whole thing was tossed with what had to be a couple of stalks worth of chopped fresh rosemary leaves, it was like trying to eat a bowl of pasta coated in Vick’s VapoRub, and I ended up picking out the prawns and just eating some of the noodles. There may have been other seasoning, but there was simply no way to tell.

Overall, lovely space, great ambiance, generally attentive service (other than when the entire staff apparently decided it was time for a cigarette break and disappeared down the balcony for a solid 20 minutes – the manager who stayed behind refused to attend to tables and just kept going out on the balcony and glaring at the staff, but he never said anything to them to get them back in the room to take care of their tables. Food, mixed. So, I’ll give it a cautious Recommended, but I’d recommend against the prawn pasta.