Photo: Paul Keller / Flickr

At a streetside BBQ restaurant in the Belgrano neighbourhood of Buenos Aires, I’m presented with a regional delicacy: ubre. It looks kind of like a meaty pineapple ring, but is actually the sliced and grilled udder of what was evidently a rather large cow. It’s pleasant enough to taste, mild if a bit chewy, but I feel like it’s the last bite of beef I’ll ever manage.

On average, a person in Argentina eats about 65 kilograms of beef per year: After a month here I feel like I’ve reached that goal already. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve loved every bite of bife de chorizo (strip loin), matambre (a sort of flank steak), asado de tira (ribs) and mollejas (sweetbreads), but I’m starting to develop a second stomach and it’s time to seek out something beyond beef.

At the contemporary Peruvian restaurant Astrid y Gastón, an elegant townhouse with red and saffron accents, I can’t stop eating the bowls of ceviche filled with sea bass, red onions, sweet potatoes and corn nuts in the zesty pool of its own marinade. I devour cubes of buttery salmon in ponzu sauce, sea bass in miso with fried oysters, and spider-crab meat stuffed into mashed potatoes. The bright, fresh, acidic flavours taste even clearer after my beef bonanza of the past few weeks.

I wait in line for an hour at the perennially jammed Sarkis in the up-and-coming Villa Crespo neighbourhood, where I enjoy their little plates of hummus, marinated eggplant, falafel and moussaka, though I’m tempted by the plates of meaty kebabs that the waiters keep carrying through the restaurant. It’s a popular place for celebrations, and during a particularly soulful rendition of “Feliz Cumpleaños,” a couple of patrons start to tango.

When I’ve nearly despaired of ever finding a decent pizza in town (locals prefer a thick-crusted, cheese-heavy version that’s like a lasagna on bread), a winemaker friend recommends Siamo nel Forno. It instantly becomes a regular stop, and my order is always the same: the pizza Margherita, all glorious sauce and blistered crust, an earthy arugula salad dressed tableside and a bottle of Malbec.

A mini staycation at the chic new Fierro Hotel introduces me to the cooking of Hernán Gipponi, who becomes one of my favourite chefs in the city. His modern, creative cooking is obviously inspired by his stint in Spain, where he ran the restaurant at the Guggenheim in Bilbao. The avocado sorbet with grilled mango sits somewhere between appetizer and dessert, and his prawns with turnip in jasmine tea grows more intoxicating with each bite.

Photo: Fierro Hotel

An invitation to visit the elegant Duhau in the Park Hyatt proves the greatest challenge to my beef fast. The restaurant is renowned for its wood-fired grill and top-quality beef. Fortunately, the menu is packed with dishes like king crab ravioli with mussels and roasted onions (sweet and saline in harmony), ultra-fresh pan-fried Patagonian rainbow trout with a crispy quinoa crust, and tender grilled octopus with the smoky, sweet aji panca pepper. But reader, I fail. I break down and order a 21-day aged rib-eye with sides of wood-fired roasted pumpkin purée with crispy bacon and Andean potatoes with garlic oil and fresh parsley. The meat is beyond flavourful, run through with melted fat and a hint of the fertile pampas where it roamed. Falling off the wagon never tasted so good.

(Chris Johns is an award-winning food writer.)

 

 

 

 

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