Estancia La Bamba

We came to Estancia La Bamba on a Tuesday because the calendar was kinder than the weekend. The room was three-quarters full and somehow more honest for it.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: horse paddocks, gauchos, dust on the boots. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with grilled provoleta with chimichurri, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered a glass of port to finish, and then another, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: asado criollo, the dish that puts Estancia La Bamba 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 — open-fire asado in the pampas afternoon — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for pommes Anna and wild mushrooms in butter. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was tiramisu, just barely too much, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

I will be back. With company, next time, and a longer reservation.