Closed Door Dining

Our left luggage was in the room, waiting for us.  We unpacked, organized, and took off for a dinner at Casa Saltshaker.  Buenos Aires has a tradition of what they call “closed door” restaurants; these can be nightly or irregular events where a chef cooks at his home, someone else’s home, or an undisclosed location revealed only on the day.  Casa Saltshaker is an expat’s home, and he cooks three or four nights a week for up to 12 at a communal table.  It was a stab in the dark!

Casa Saltshaker rates quite high on TripAdvisor; but while TA is a fair gauge for hotels, it’s a little less reliable for restaurants.  The location was chef Dan’s home, a one bedroom loft with a garden in a nice neighbourhood.  He’s an American by birth and according to the site a trained chef.

Beet salad, potato gallette, mango

Joining us were four Spanish guests; two of which were portenos, or locals, their son who lives in Spain with a Spanish wife, two girls from Toronto (one of whom spoke Spanish, thank goodness), and a Pole who spoke perfect English but not a lick of Spanish.  It was a social, lively, and fun evening, full of language hurdles and interesting observations.  The food however varied between quite good and not too bad; we had slightly higher expectations--but it was a fun night out.  We started with a lovely take on a potato gallette, then followed by maybe the highlight of the evening, a soup with all the ingredients of hummus (chickpeas, lemon, tahini, garlic, some spice) topped with avocado.  A marinated fish was mediocre and a roast chicken wasn’t up to snuff.  A dessert of limoncello mousse (excellent) and chocolate hazelnut cake (so-so) topped off the evening.  They paired each dish with wines, perfectly I might add.  What was much better than the food though was the conversation.  It was well past midnight before, exhausted from such a long day, I turned to SS and suggested we make a move.  But earlier I asked the Argentines: It’s a work night, say Tuesday.  Nothing special.  You have to get up the next day at seven for work again.  You’re eating at home.  What time do you have dinner?  They answered, unequivocally, 9:30.  And then I asked, what time do you go to bed?  And they said 11.  And I just shook my head.  They eat heavy, they eat late, and think nothing of it.  Total, all in, including food, booze, tax and tip, $65 US per.  Quite good I would say.

We taxied home for about $5 and, being Wednesday night, it was teeming with nightlife, people everywhere.  Of course.