LAVANDERIA RISES FROM THE ASHES
Antonio Park’s Argentine restaurant has blossomed after rebounding from a fire
Walking into Lavanderia is like walking into a restaurant in Latin America. The potted ficus in the middle of the room is large enough to remind you of eating outdoors among trees in the tropics, and the ceiling is so high that you can forget it’s there. Glass globes hang midway along the tree’s branches, with a snarl of fairy lights in each. Plants above the open kitchen have lights strung among the leaves, like on terrasses in parts of the world where the sun sets early. I was enchanted by how the space took me elsewhere.
Lavanderia is one of Antonio Park’s main trio of restaurants, including the neighbouring Park and Café Bazin. Park and Lavanderia were closed due to a fire in late 2016, and though Park reopened weeks later, Lavanderia only opened a year after. The three are quite the hat trick, each of similar good quality, yet distinct from one another.
Lavanderia means laundromat in Spanish. Park was born in Argentina, where his family ran a business acid-washing jeans for Wrangler and Levi’s. Pairs of eBay-sourced ’80s streaky denims hang on lines on the wall. Photos along the stairs in the back are of Park’s childhood. His mom in front of a laundry machine, an elaborate meal indoors, his family cooking meat outdoors on a spindly but sturdy grill, like what families do on hibachis on Mount Royal today. These touches soften the business of eating out, revealing the seeds of food commerce within family and love.
My family and I settled in at our table. The smaller members rode shotgun to the adults, as the dear little omnivores are keen on grilled meats, which Lavanderia is known for.
Although there’s a regular menu, many offerings are on the daily specials board, such as a tempting kale, peach and Brazil nut salad, toast with mushrooms, seafood cocktail, halibut with yuca ragout and chorizo, and the famous parrillada (a.k.a. the mixed grill). The menu has salads, Argentine empanadas and meats to order separately. I recommend
just throwing your hands in the air and asking for the mixed grill, enjoying the various meats you get.
In the mood for cocktails, we ordered a pisco sour and the bomba mate — a vodka-based drink with yerba mate, an astringent herb used for tea. Oddly, the bomba was sweeter than expected, while the pisco sour was less sweet than expected. A subsequent cocktail called smoky margarita struck just the right note, with a blend of tequila, its smokier cousin mezcal and a hint of jalapeño syrup.
The kids had Jarritos brand soft drinks. “It’s fizzy, but when I burp it doesn’t hurt,” one pleased child said. We all approved of the cardboard straws.
Despite the warm evening, one kid declared he wanted the soup of the day. Allegedly corn chowder with bacon and maple syrup, it looked more like minestrone, with chunks of vegetables in a broth. The kind of soup that would have been spurned if I had dared to plunk it down before the small set when they were younger. I held my breath. “It smells good,” he declared, tucking in. “This is healthy, isn’t it?” his brother asked. Undeterred — even encouraged — by the affirmative answer, he made the hearty, comforting soup disappear fast.
All ages would like the fugazza — Argentine focaccia, with simple toppings. The provoleta boasted tomato sauce and cheese, while the day’s special fugazza was topped with arugula and bacon. (Arugula did not pass the kid test.) The bread was declared buttery by one child, crispy by another, and each were right. There was a soft interior, gently crispy and buttery exterior. Eminently edible. The grown-ups had a chayote and jicama salad from the menu. Jicama is a white-fleshed, crunchy tuber covered with brown fuzz; chayote is a green fruit treated like a vegetable (and in the old days called a vegetable pear) that’s often described as having a texture between that of a cucumber and a potato. These were sliced thin and served with frisée, and marred by too much salt, so their fresh qualities were lost. I was much happier with the duck pupusa, which was shredded duck stuffed into a white corn patty, over black beans, topped with a bit of salad and a fried egg.
And, of course, the parrillada. A meat medley of lamb, strip loin, Cornish hen, octopus, squid, sausage and beef short ribs came piled up with green beans, zucchini and cauliflower, all having been given the grill treatment in the kitchen. They were served atop a cast-iron tanker-shaped double-decker grill, which usually has coals on the lower level to keep the meat warm. Here it’s for presentation only — so no burned fingers — but it makes you feel as though you’re eating meat off the grill in Argentina.
The zucchini were exactly how I try to achieve them but rarely succeed; the green beans were quickly gobbled up by the kids; the cauliflower was a treat. The meat was met with wide eyes and lunges. Though the lamb was a touch overcooked, the juicy hen
and the strip loin were standouts, and the adults loved the nobbly octopus arm and spicy sausage. Sauces, including the Argentine chimichurri — a parsley, garlic and oil mix — were there for the dipping. A simple salad and bread are included, too. “This was a really good feed,” the family agreed. Some meat remained and was packed up for home, though our stomachs still had room for dessert when confronted with choices like chocolate mousse with caramelized banana, orange zest crème brûlée, or mango and maracuya pavlova.
We went for the alfajor, a typically Latin sweet of dulce de leche between two simple cookies. The filling was pannacotta-like jiggly, and a scoop of ice cream atop had coffee notes. The kids went for what kids will: ice cream. Lavanderia’s vanilla ice cream is more of a refreshing vanilla bean-flecked ice milk, topped with cookies and berries. The in-house sorbets were given the same treatment.
Apropos of being 11 years old, one kid asked: “What scientist said, ‘Magic is just technology you don’t understand’?” What Pampas-wide reading he must be doing, I marvelled, but a Google showed it was a paraphrase of Arthur C. Clarke that my kid heard in the Marvel movie Thor. Maybe he was just reminded of magic by the charming surroundings, and the magic of sharing food with loved ones.