Don Julio

A friend who knows Buenos Aires better than I do put Don Julio at the top of a list of three. He was right, as he often is.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: Palermo corner parrilla with empty bottles signed on the walls. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with a wedge of iceberg with blue cheese, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered a Burgundy that arrived too cold and rewarded patience, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: ojo de bife, the dish that puts Don Julio on every short list. The seasoning was simple — salt, pepper, restraint — and it was the right call. The signature touch — the chorizo and provoleta before the beef — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for pommes Anna and hash browns the size of a hubcap. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was a slab of New York cheesecake, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

It is not cheap. It is, in this case, worth it.