Operation Secreto

I arrive at a street with a number scrawled on piece of paper. There`s no sign of a restaurant. An old man is smoking in a doorway, I tentatively ask if it is the restaurant I`ve walked a long way to find. Minus teeth, he responds that he`s never heard of a restaurant here. This restaurant is part of Buenos Aires` exclusive puerta cerrado (closed door) dining scene. I`m all for covert cuisine, if only I could find the damn thing.
There`s a vaguely familiar symbol on a wall with a small door in the middle. I push the buzzer. Hola. I give my name. Footsteps. A door opens into a courtyard. Once the door shuts behind me it`s all smiles and welcoming handshakes. This restaurant is no longer particularly underground, most closed door restaurants appear in people`s living rooms, however, here they have converted a space the size of a garage - hold on it probably is a garage. There are seven tables, an open hatch kitchen and it`s eclectically decorated with model cars.
It`s empty, but it doesn`t seem to matter due to the small scale and homely ambiance. The draw to Almacen Secreto is regional Argentine cuisine and the menu is divided geographically. The north is fairly familiar territory to me as is the centre, but as the area I`ve failed to visit the south is most intriguing. I chose pickled trucha (trout). Inch square nuggets of pink trout have been given the vinegar treatment along with onions, peppers and garlic. The trout crumbles at the slightest touch and is very moreish with the crunchy onions and peppers. I heap piles onto warm homemade bread with some garlic soaked butterbeans.
As the only diner my main arrives a little too quickly, but I'm excited. I´m trying pork in frutas del bosco (fruits of the forest). Four pork medallions arrive in a light gravy speckled with mustard seeds and blueberries and some herb covered rice. Blueberries are grown in Argentina so their presence isn´t surprising, it`s just the pairing with the pork I'm not convinced about. Well, not for the first time, I'm wrong. The sweet yet flavoursome fruit stands up amiably against the nutty pork. I can taste something else and it takes me a while to work out the flavour because it's really subtle, it's mint. There are fresh mint leaves in the gravy, I'm shocked. It shouldn't work. It's a lesson in restraint, I think, the blueberries are minimal, the mustard sting slight and the fresh mint only hints underneath it all. It provides a light, but very interesting sauce, that keeps entertaining my tastebuds until the final fork.
The waitress hovers hawkishly at my shoulder as I sip a short black coffee, I'm still the only diner. I don't care, I wanted an exclusive dining experience and it doesn't get better than private service. I start to wonder whether it's a reward for years of dutiful serfdom delivered in one hit of playing "upstairs". One could get used to this.