Another late night; another late start. No alarm clock trouble this time, but my hotel room looks out over a lovely little park. Sadly, however, this means that I get all the park noise…people drunkenly shouting until 5 A.M. and then a hundred dogs barking as if they’re being stabbed with red hot pokers starting at 7 A.M. And two hours of sleep just isn’t enough. Definitely need to bring earplugs or stay on a side street next time.
When I finally got moving, I walked to the Evita museum and had lunch at their cafe. The cafe is very nice, with a large patio and plenty of greenery. They have a crepe stand outside, so I started with a fruit and nut pate crepe topped with three different kinds of cheese. The taste was good, but I thought the cheese would actually be baked into the crepe, and I think it would have been better that way. The main course was fantastic, though–extremely plump pumpkin ravioli in a sage cream sauce.
Then I headed into the museum itself, which was created in an early 20th century house used as a shelter for women and children by the Eva Perón Foundation. The museum was a bit disappointing in that there was a lack of original materials, featuring instead things “of the same period,” or reproductions of photographs, with numerous quotes on the wall from Eva’s book, The Reason of My Life. I did really enjoy all of her clothing on display, though, and since my only knowledge of her life up to this point came from the musical, I learned a lot. I had no idea that she’d moved to Buenos Aires with her mother (not a man she’d slept with), and I also didn’t know about her leadership in the women’s suffrage movement in Argentina. Very educational. And I’m still dreaming about the gorgeous black velvet round toe pumps with a champagne silk ruffle.
That night, I had dinner at Casa Saltshaker, a puertas cerradas (closed door) restaurant–essentially dinner at someone’s apartment with a bunch of strangers. Casa Saltshaker is run by an American expat, Dan, and his partner, Henry, out of their Recoleta apartment. They feature a different theme each week; ours was the anniversary of the Cloud Club, a private dining club in the Chrysler Building that was started in the 1930s. Dan served five courses: a duo of savory profiteroles (roasted red pepper and eggplant purees), mushroom veloute, whole wheat pasta with chickpeas and truffle oil, a take on Philadelphia chicken that was wrapped in pastrami and stuffed with goat cheese, then served with glazed carrots and roasted cherry tomatoes, and a light almond cake with caramelized bananas for dessert. The food was all good, and the first and last courses were exceptional.
The company was as much a part of the experience as the food, though. There were seven other guests in attendance (and two no-shows): three couples, all from New York City but traveling separately, and a British man who decided to live in Argentina for a couple years to play polo. Two of the couples seemed nice and normal; the third was odd. They asked the other couples how they met and then told us all they’d met at a party. “But a special party,” she added.
We all giggled nervously, and one of the other men said, “You have to tell us what you mean…cause my imagination is just going out of control here.”
She smiled and said, “Special…not too special, though.” And that was that. I have a feeling this is going to torture me for awhile; it’s just rude to make allusions without clarifications.
The British guy was also quite the character. He continually asked for more alcohol and claimed to know the scientist who cloned Dolly the sheep. Everyone was friendly and social, though, and since I’m traveling alone, it was a treat to chat with people in English for awhile. I’d return to Casa Saltshaker, for the lottery factor, if nothing else. You never know whom you’ll be sharing your table with, so there’s always the possibility of getting the story of your life along with your meal. I wasn’t quite that lucky, but $50 for five tasty courses with wine pairings and pleasant conversation seems reasonable enough to me.
Tags: Buenos Aires, Casa Saltshaker, Cloud Club, Museo Evita
