El Boliche de Alberto

I had been meaning to get to El Boliche de Alberto for years. I will not wait that long again.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: Andean lakeside, fire crackling. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with burrata with peaches and basil, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered a Chianti Classico Riserva I wrote down in my notebook, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: bife ancho, the dish that puts El Boliche de Alberto on every short list. It was, frankly, the best version of this cut I have had this year. The signature touch — Patagonian beef in a log-cabin dining room — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for thick-cut onion rings, stacked and buttered haricots verts. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was a wedge of chocolate cake to share, fork divided, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

I paid the bill, walked out into the Bariloche evening, and put the address back into the notebook with a star next to it.