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Update: Dreaming of Choripán

© Jorge Royan / / CC-BY-SA-3.0
© Jorge Royan / / CC-BY-SA-3.0


Good news for choripán aficionados in Buenos Aires: Taxi Gourmet reader Rodrigo Varela Perarnau recently paid a visit to Mi Sueño, my favorite sausage sandwich stand on the Costanera Sur, and it turns out their choripán is as glorious as ever. In Rodrigo’s words: “¡Qué buen chori! It must have white wine and the blessing of the Pope.” If, like me, you have no way of getting to Mi Sueño in the near future, I give you the story of Fernando, the taxista who was kind enough to tell me about it, one more time.


It’s about as easy for me to keep quiet about a good food find as it is to hold a poker face. Which is why I simply have to tell you about the most amazing sausage sandwich I’ve tasted in Buenos Aires.

I’ve kept it a secret for a couple of months now, waiting for the right moment, wondering if the good people at this particular carrito (sausage sandwich stand) on the Costanera Sur would even want the extra attention.

But I can’t keep my mouth shut any longer.

I have Fernando, the tango-singing taxista from Olivos (a northern Buenos Aires suburb), to thank for leading me to the sublime sandwich.

Though he originally wanted to drop me off at Miranda, a posh steakhouse in Palermo Hollywood where he’d never eaten, Fernando eventually embraced the spirit of the quest and delivered me to his chosen spot for choripán…after we got to talking about his life as a taxi driver.

“I like the freedom,” he said, “But it gets lonely sometimes. As a taxista, you only have fleeting contact with the passenger.”

“The fleeting aspect is a little like tango isn’t it?” I said, “You say hello, you dance passionately with someone, and then you say goodbye…”

“Yes, yes, that’s true. Troilo, one of our great tango composers, said that ‘life is a tango,’” he answered, “I don’t know if I agree with him, but I listen to tango. And I sing it sometimes, too.”

“Would you sing me something?”

As we straddled the lane lines on Avenida Dorrego, Fernando crooned a few bars of ‘Sur,’ Homero Manzi’s ode to a bygone Buenos Aires. His voice – a silky, confident bass tinged with sadness – penetrated my pores and raised the hair on my arms.

Bueno,” he said, when we reached the Costanera Sur, a eucalyptus-lined boulevard that borders the Rio de la Plata “the tango goes on, right?” He braked in front of a food stand on the edge of the asphalt.

I thanked him for the song and joined the line of customers in front of Mi Sueño.

“A taxi driver told me the sausage sandwiches were good around here,” I said, when I reached the counter.

“The taxi driver wasn’t lying,” said the cashier, a round bellied man wearing a black beret, handing me a sausage sandwich a few minutes later. I made a beeline to the ‘salsa bar,’ slathered my chori with chimichurri sauce, plopped down in a plastic chair facing the Rio de la Plata, and took a bite.

I’ve eaten more sausage sandwiches than I can count since I moved to Buenos Aires. (Next to empanadas, choripán is my favorite cheap, greasy, late-night thing to eat in Buenos Aires. It’s also one of the few foods you can buy on the street here.)

But the choripán at Mi Sueño transcended all others I’ve tasted to date. The sausage itself was flavored with white wine, oregano, and a touch of red pepper. Amped up by pungent chimichurri, it would have made for a perfect sandwich but for an excess of bun — a problem easily resolved by folding the butterflied chorizo onto one half of the bread and feeding the rest to the pigeons.


*** There’s no real address, but it’s hard to miss Mi Sueño on the Costanera Sur: look for the red and yellow carrito about a kilometer north of the Reserva Ecologica.

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