The Busy Gourmand

El Timon de Don Jesus
Dorrego 1699 (corner of Cabrera)

Every trip you take you are likely, if you are willing to be adventurous, to find some little gem that never makes it into the guide books. They are either a little too low brow or maybe just a bit far off the usual tourist paths and they stay under the radar. El Timon is just such a place.

We had one total washout of a day during our trip. It was Saturday, it was pouring rain all day, and we were just not in the mood for running around in the rain. The night before I had taken a look from our balcony and it seemed that there was a restaurant with a big red lighted sign that said “El Tim” (the “o” and the “n” were not working) about three blocks from the apartment. Those of you who know me well understand why I would want to eat at a restaurant called “El Tim.” So for a late lunch on Saturday we ventured over to El Timon.

It was apparent from the start that a tourist had not ventured into this place since perhaps the time of Juan Peron. Everyone turned around to look at us as we were clearly not from the neighborhood. The place was pretty spare looking, but warm and welcoming, and it was filled with families, older couples, workers from the market across the street and a few Saturday shoppers. A crowd you would expect to see at just about any neighborhood restaurant just about anywhere in the world.

We were greeted warmly if a bit suspiciously, and our waiter breathed a clear sigh of relief when it was apparent that I spoke a modicum of Spanish, although my culinary vocabulary was about to get much broader in a hurry. The menu was completely in Spanish, handwritten and 75% of the menu included things I had never heard of before. So we ordered our mineral water “with gas” and a bottle of wine and sat back to see just what we could get into on a rainy Saturday.

The array of food, and its presentation, coming out of that little bitty kitchen was astonishing. Every plate that came out, I asked our waiter what it was, and he graciously told us what was contained in each dish. In fact I did this so many times that all the other waiters began passing by our table with the dishes so we could take a look and ask questions. The dishes are too many to list but there was lamb cooked at least three ways, the usual beef, in ribs, steaks, and stewed forms, and there was an array of pastas, cheeses, pizzas, and empanadas, and who knows what else, that were not only beautiful, but judging from the local reactions were incredibly flavorful.

Will ordered the beef “ribbs”, and I totally copped out and ordered the chicken Milanese in a red sauce. Both were served with French fries. His were served in what was called a Provencal sauce, and mine were just regular French fries. The ribs were perfectly grilled to a medium rare (try that on your grill at home!) and had been basted in a chimichurri sauce. They were lovely, tender, and delicious. My chicken was pounded to almost paper thin and was fried to a golden brown and topped with a slice of ham, a slice of provolone, and a very light red sauce. It was delicious, if a bit basic, and was fork tender. The French fries were perfectly cooked and the ones in the Provencal sauce, which consisted of a bit of garlic and parsley (I am guessing chimichurri) were an absolutely wonderful flavor sensation.

We finished the meal with a “queso dulce” or sweet cheese, which is a dessert that consists of a thick slice of a mozzarella type cheese, and a thick slice of a gelatinous concoction made from honey and some kind of berry pectin. It was a most improbable pairing but it worked really well together. Apparently this is a local specialty.

We returned on our last day in Buenos Aires to have lunch before we headed to the airport. The place was packed with locals again, and the door for the take-out area was constantly in motion. Students and workers crowded the take-out area ordering their empanadas and pizzas for lunch. There was also an array of savory tarts that looked a lot like quiche but had whole eggs embedded in them (sounds like an Italian influence there).

I ordered the bife porteňito, which is a “little” steak topped with a fried egg. Will ordered the ravioli with chicken. My translating skills were off that day, and instead of ravioli stuffed with chicken and cheese, it turned out to be a cheese ravioli with a braised chicken thigh underneath. A different sort of presentation, but, it was great. My steak was as good as any in Buenos Aires and when would you have the courage to put a fried egg on your steak at home?

Again the stuff flying out of the kitchens was a spectacular show. If we did not have to go to the airport I was going to ask if I could hang out in the kitchen for the afternoon.

The first time we ate at El Timon the bill came to $30 including entrees, wine, and dessert. Our second lunch cost around $20. For two people, and considering the quality of the food, this was a steal. It is Spanish only here, but I think with some hand gestures, a wink and a nod you can probably communicate with the waiters. Just ask for the “sugerencias,” or recommendations from the waiter, and just order them.

The bottom line is this; if you want a real Porteňo dining experience, without any pretense or any tourists in sight, this is the place to go. It confirms my belief that most of the really good restaurants never make it to the review pages of many guide books or newspapers. I am a bit leery of even writing about it, lest it be “discovered.” But, honestly, I would gladly eat there, breakfast, lunch, or dinner again and again.

My only regret is that I did not take any pictures. I thought it would be rude since we were so warmly welcomed into a neighborhood secret.