Once my co-adventurer and I scanned the specials board that greeted us at Vicente, we knew we’d stepped out of steak and milanesa territory. Chicken stuffed with prosciutto, mozzarella, sun-dried tomatoes and asparagus? Risotto with beef, mushrooms, sage and cream? Sweet and sour pork with caramelized sweet potatoes?
To our hibernating palates, this wasn’t food. It was a portal to a fantasy world of bacchanalian proportions.
We snagged the last available sidewalk table. Scanning the menu to a soundtrack of singing birds, we slipped into the delicious confusion that ensues when you realize that you can’t possibly try all of the dishes that tempt you.
We began our hedonistic spree with an Uxmal Cabernet: velvety but big enough to stand up to the lamb brochettes and goat cheese sorrentinos we ordered.
After we took our first bites, we understood why so many locals had chosen Vicente as the spot to observe the ritual that is Sunday lunch in Buenos Aires.
Our food was gorgeous. Moan-inducing. Mindfully prepared and close to flawless.
The lamb brochettes – with bacon-wrapped tomatoes, couscous and an orange-zest dipping sauce – were succulent and tender. Meanwhile, the sorrentinos seduced, with tangy goat cheese playing off the sweetness of sun-dried tomatoes; the bright flavor of chives in a light, butternut squash-flecked cream sauce hummed in the background.
Main courses demolished, we followed our server’s recommendation and ordered the Uno + Uno, a wicked dessert with chocolate mousse, vanilla ice cream, dulce de leche and walnuts. A heady finish to a dream of a meal.
As we rolled away from what is now one of our favorite neighborhood restaurants, we sent thanks to the reader of this blog who recommended Vicente.
Cheers to you, Rodrigo. And to all of those who would propagate pleasure.