Las cosas que hemos comido hasta ahora

I have to say that the fact that I know I’m going to have to report on what I/we eat to larger crowd is somewhat daunting. On the one hand it has to be in the vicinity of edible but on the other hand a really bad or weird meal is just as much fun, if not more so, to write about. Meals that are simply boring risk being overlooked. The ho hum is not newsworthy (see the news media). Fortunately for this blog there is not much food I find boring.

OK, let’s start at the top. The first meal we had on the day we arrived was at a place called Antifine. In my mind should sound like ‘aunt tiffany.’ We discovered, however, it rhymes with anti-fine. In fact, it is anti fine, actually. Even before we ordered a drink a dab of something was placed in front of us on a broken plate. The ‘anti-fine’ part of this was that you had to lick it off the plate. Extremely anti-fine.

The first course was more successful. Chiles relleños covered with black sesame sauce, and some weird thing that, appearance-wise, had a lot in common with a bridal headdress. It was shaved pickled jicama sitting on top of some ceveche-ish scallops in hot sauce, sorta. It was good, although raw scallops no matter how much you’ve ceviched them, are not my thing exactly.

The main course was a beef short rib, roasted to the point of shredding, with salad and little tortillas to eat it with taco style. Accompanied by a bowl of jus. It was good. I guess.

The next night we had no reservations and oped for what we thought was a French restaurant. It was, however, Russian. The appetizer we ordered was “Argentine chorizo” which was some sort of Slavic sausage served with tortillas. I mean, OK, whatever. I decided on the Cassoulet which on the menu was something like Bržngscħ Cassoulet. And it was very Bržngscħ. I could not eat it. I am not sure what exactly that giant duck was but it was gamey as all hell. When he brought it to the table and the reek of it reached me I mumbled a prayer to St Mžnyčį for courage. He did not deliver. In the meantime the waiters were rushing an enormous bottle of frozen vodka around to everyone in the place but us. I certainly did not want it but, you know, it’s nice to know you’re part of the crowd. I had a few mouthfuls of the duck and we left. The place is nearby and I cross the street rather than walk by.

The next night we went with Italian. Three strikes. The batter (no pun intended) on the calamari was terrible and unsalted and the pasta, which was swirled in a huge wheel of pecorino romano seemed to be promising. OMG it was a mess. Very sweet tomato paste on pasta. I dunno what happened to the pecorino but it was lost. And the cheese chunks on top tasted so much like peanuts that after the fact I argued with Husoor about it. On reviewing the photographic evidence, he was right. Of course.

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