Puerta Cerradas: eating with locals in Buenos Aires
21.07.2023 - 07:52
/ roughguides.com
Think Argentinais all rump steak and raunchy – not to mention randy – gauchos? Then it's time to discover the latest craze in buzzy Buenos Airesas puertas cerradas are revolutionising the city's eating habits.
“You get together in their living room and talk to all these people you've never met while the home owner is cooking you up a feast in his kitchen", my porteños boyfriend Seb chatters excitedly about the latest food phenomenon to hit Buenos Aires, as we walk beneath the winking, dappled shade of plane trees to our first gourmet rendezvous with one of the city's puertas cerradas. Translating as «closed doors», puerta cerradas are Buenos Aires’ version of pop-up restaurants and I’m glad to be with a local as we hop on and off buses, then take a taxi to reach our hard-to-find destination.
Paying the driver, Seb pulls out a bible-sized wad of pesos. He winks at my appalled expression. “Well, they don't take credit cards”, he tells me as we step out into a paved street.
Not necessarily cheap, with their four-or-five-course menus (around 390 Argentinian pesos, £19, excluding drinks), puertas cerradas still represent good value in this city of galloping inflation, and all my friends are excited about this new formula that seems set to change the Buenos Aires' foodie scene – even though you often have to reserve weeks in advance.
“You have to understand that here in Argentina, even in the capital, we’ve always had pretty conservative palates — most of our restaurants serve beef and pasta – so we’re pretty excited about tasting all this different food,” Seb explains.
With its slogan: «Food. Wine. Conversation. New friends.», Casa Salt Shaker offers the classic cerrada experience. In a cobbled side street of the hip Barrio Norte district, we’re met by our host Henry Tapia and led into the one-bedroom duplex that he shares with his partner, American chef Dan Perlman. Entering a spacious lounge we join eight other guests sat around a polished wooden table. While Henry serves us a welcoming cocktail, Dan walks us through the menu. “I call it fancy home cooking," he jokes.
At first the atmosphere is slightly stiff, but by the time we’ve steamed our way through Dan’s sumptuous gazpacho, followed by fish served on a bed of corn purée topped with vegetable and herbs and succulent white-chocolate-topped cheese cake, we are all firm friends. Since I’m the only foreigner at the table my Spanish is put to good use as we discuss the holy Argentine trinity of politics, steak and football.
By now I’ve got the cerrada bug, so the following week Seb and I head for the leafy suburb of Villa Crespo, where the cab leaves us outside a line of narrow late 18th century houses. Theres no sign outside iLatina but Camillo our host, who