El Boliche de Alberto

Walking into El Boliche de Alberto for the first time is a small piece of theatre, and that is before any food has arrived.

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 heavy California zinfandel, no apologies, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: bife ancho, the dish that puts El Boliche de Alberto on every short list. There was a thumb of butter melting into the cross-hatch, and a single sprig of thyme on top, and not one thing more. 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 skin-on fries, twice-fried and broiled tomato with a breadcrumb cap. 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.

If you are passing through Bariloche, do not pass El Boliche de Alberto by.