Buenos Aires is a great break with culture and amazing food — but there’s so much steak
SIZZLING in the Argentine sun like juicy steak, the Presidential Palace in Buenos Aires is painted the strangest hue of fleshy pink.
Porteños — meaning “people of the port”, as the capital’s inhabitants are called — have long debated the source of Casa Rosada’s meaty paint job.
Some say it’s something to do with the building’s origin as the central post office. Others think its mix of red and white are the colours of the two main political parties from the 1800s.
Or: “Didn’t Evita like pink?”
But, as my guide explained, the real reason Argentina’s president governs from The Pink House and not The White House is because the palace really is a giant steak.
Well, almost.
As we walked across Plaza de Mayo towards the palatial mansion, Agustina told how when testing the bottom layer of paint, historians discovered a very special coating — cows’ blood.
Designed to protect against the elements, this bovine blood and fat barrier turned the whitewash pink and the colour stuck. By the time I was introduced to Argentina’s big, beefy palace I’d already encountered the country’s cattle-centric cuisine.
Day one, at Four Seasons Buenos Aires’ restaurant Nuestro Secreto, I’d faced the gut-busting traditional asado barbecue. Like a Sunday roast on steroids, diners must consume a series of offal dishes before they’re allowed the steak course.
Agustina told how her family, a large brood of Italian descent, serve a spread like this every weekend.
“I often have to eat two, one at my boyfriend’s and then another at my parents’, usually while making sure my six nephews don’t drown in the pool,” she says.
There were “chinchulines” (crispy small intestines), “molleja” (sweetbread made from various odds and innards), “morcilla” (blood sausages), “cabrito” (baby goat) and finally, a New York strip steak - all served up with chimichurri sauce.
I was on my way to recovering by dinner time, when at Italian restaurant Grappa Cantina I was served a dish that wasn’t so much pizza as a plate of melted cheese sourced from a cow that had once been shown a picture of a pizza.
The thin “al la parilla” base was suffocated under a coat of queso an inch thick — it was incredible.
Grappa Cantina is popular with Argentinian celebs and sits on a quiet cobbled street in sprawling Palermo, the same “barrio” or neighbourhood I was staying in.
With a large outdoor pool — a real treat in any city — and a fantastic breakfast cafe, the CasaSur Bellini Hotel was a tranquil base from which to explore.
A residential area of Palermo with high- rise apartments and wide tree-lined boulevards, it has dozens of small bars and cafes within walking distance.
In a city that feels more like Europe than anywhere in the Americas, microbrew pubs, burger bars and retro speakeasys are all on trend.
A block away from the hotel is the excellent Temple, a pub covered in a huge mural beneath which fashionable young porteños gather.
I also liked Temple’s larger bar in Palermo Soho. Like its New York namesake, Soho is full of fashion designers, boutique shops, art galleries and cafes.
Here I ogled eye-popping graffiti, while by night I sought out speakeasy bars like Shambala. Palermo, along with the barrios of San Telmo and Almagro get much of their charm from a stock of traditional “Casa Chorizo” or Sausage Houses. They’re named for the adjoining rooms, accessible only via each other — rather like a string of sausages.
Inhabited by working-class immigrants, the courtyards of these tenements were the melting pot where the tango was born.
A sultry and mournful sound, the tango is a multi-cultural mash-up of the German waltz, Czech polka, Polish mazurka, Bohemian schottische, Spanish-Cuban habanera and African candombe. No mention of the Morris Dance, still English immigrants gave the nation something even more important — sport.
Argentina’s first footie match was played between the White Caps and the Red Caps — both teams of English merchants — so for once, we couldn’t lose. The kick-about was played on a cricket field, near to where the Planetarium now stands in February 3 Park. Here you can pick up free rental bicycles.
Cycle north and you’ll find Campo Argentino de Polo, popularly known as the Cathedral of Polo, where on Saturdays it’s free to watch matches.
While the wealthy adopted polo, Argentine gauchos put their own spin on the sport, renaming it “Pato” or “Duck”. Declared the national sport in 1953, it’s a mix between basketball and polo, in which horsemen traditionally tussle for control of a live duck in a basket.
A dangerous game, not least for the duck, the winner would be the team which reached their own ranch house with the duck, often over playing fields that stretched for acres.
The duck has now been replaced by a ball with six handles. Buenos Aires soon learnt to love soccer, and nowhere more so than La Boca, home of Boca Juniors.
The working class barrio by the port is famous for its houses, painted in vivid primary colours. Locals were so poor they used leftover paint from the dockyards on their homes.
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Before leaving Buenos Aires, my last meal had to be steak and there’s no better than Don Julio’s. An institution, its walls are lined with wine bottles signed by its well-fed patrons but the meat was surprisingly charred.
After more beef on the flight home I was about ready for a veggie detox. Apparently, Argentinian President Mauricio Macri has had the same revelation.
Despite ruling from a palace painted in beef, he has recently enforced vegan Mondays at the staff canteen.
Go: Buenos Aires
GETTING THERE: Norwegian flies from Gatwick to Buenos Aires from £439pp return. Book by Tuesday, February 19, at . Norwegian also flies internally from Buenos Aires to Cordoba, Mendoza, Iguazu, Bariloche, Neuquen and Salta from £35pp one way.
STAYING THERE: One night’s B&B at the CasaSur Bellini Hotel is from £71.50pp based on two sharing. See .