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Naiara Calviño carefully pieces together a ‘ahogado de cabeza’ in the little rectangular kitchen at the back of Chochán. She slices an individual loaf of glass bread that has a slight bubbly surface and rich brown color that tells

I didn’t grow up eating milanesas or the nearly identical North American ‘chicken fried steak’ but there is something nostalgic about eating one. Maybe it has to do with my childhood struggle of trying to convince my mother to buy

Two families of nearly a dozen members each take up impossibly long tables on either end of the room that transform this hallway-shaped restaurant into a cozy enclave. Lines of wine glasses tinted neon yellow with Inca Kola and shiny

“My grandma didn’t like to cook, she cooked to survive,” Alejandro Osuna recounts with a playful shrug, “Everyone has to eat.” He grew up on her cooking. It was a routine duty with a fixed calendar of meals: Monday was

The waiter meanders over to the table and drops a laminated menu in front of us. The skim selection has as many food options as it does drinks—four different soups and a few ambiguously named appetizers like chinese raviolis and

The waitresses face changes from kindness to confusion when I ask where the Guarani food is on the menu. I wondered if I was in the right place. I’d struggled to find El Cortijo despite its conspicuous location on a

The waiter slinks over to the table empty handed and lazily asks, “Do you need a menu?” as per routine. “No.” I know exactly what I want. It is the same exact order I make every time I visit La

A milanesa with french fries isn’t what immediately comes to mind when I think of dining out in the neighborhood of Once, easily one of the city’s most multi-cultural barrios. A mountain of ceviche, warm tamales, sweet tropical juices

German Torres gazes at a basket full of breads carefully considering each one before he grabs a loaf of rye. It is still warm from the oven and cracks loudly underneath his grip. “This is what we look for here,”

I could hear my dish pop and sear as it exited the kitchen. The waiter walked hurriedly across the dining room carrying a hot stone adorned with thick slabs of raw surubi. A cloud of white smoke billowed in his