Recently, I had dinner, at Wunderbar, a little bavarian-themed restaurant/bar halfway up one of the monumentally steep and lengthy flights of stairs I mentioned in a previous post.
Well, it was more like late lunch. Cream of asparagus soup, sausages, saurkraut, warm potato salad and dessert and some beer. All delicious.
I have to say that the food down here is, in general, really good. They don’t just have potatoes, they have 50 kinds of potatoes. Meat is tasty and there’s lots of veggie variety. Pastries are plentiful and pleasing to the palate (okay, end of alliteration). I haven’t really blitzed the restaurants but I have a short list and I’m going to try to visit as many as possible in the time I have left.
I stand firm by my previous paragraph even though I just had dinner at Todosantos, a highly regarded restaurant situated in a convent. It was a bit of a disappointment. The chef greeted me, and I asked for his recommendation. He personally took my order. The locro de papas, a soup that is an institution here, arrived luke warm which meant that the cheese that is supposed to melt on your tongue was eminently chewable. The sirloin tips were much chewier than the cheese but, that’s not a good thing. I didn’t create a stir, I reserve that for restaurants I think have potential. I didn’t want to brave coffee and dessert, so I paid and left while the chef studiously avoided me, staying on the far side of the room rearranging a table setting. My recommendation – hire a host to schmooze front-of-house and tell the chef to pay attention to the kitchen. The host can trot him out on request.
Since my arrival, and on a non-culinary note, I have, for two weeks now, blithely deposited my garbage in the appointed place but not, apparently, at the appointed hour. Now, there is a big notice, bold, all caps spelling out the days and times my detritus is anticipated.