"Go to Tabaré. It's a Uruguayan place."
"What should I order?"
"The empanadas."
Really? I wasn't too keen on this local's advice. The last time I had an empanada, my stomach felt like there were sandbags inside. From then on, I dismissed empanadas as gut-bombs. Every culture seems to have one.
In Korean tradition, one would have super glutinous rice cakes piled high on festive occasions. One piece of rice cake is probably equivalent to 10 compressed bowls of rice. Unless your stomach is made of iron, you will suffer. This is one tradition from my heritage I'm not sure I'd keep.
In Lebanese culture, there is the fried lamb kibbe. A friend's aunt who is Lebanese kept insisting I eat her lamb kibbe. To be polite while trying to catch a flight, I slammed that kibbe and regretted it soon after. On the plane, I thought about pulling out the oxygen mask.
And then there was my first empanada. It was at a potluck years ago at work. A colleague urged me to try it. The pastry looked thick. Not wanting to offend, I ate it and almost died.
I asked the local, "Can you recommend anything else?"
"No. Get the empanadas."
Something in his tone was quite compelling. So I went to Tabaré and ordered what I'd silently used to refer to as the Hot-Pockets of Death. Empanadas caseras. Caseras, que sera. Let's hope for the best.
I took a bite and it was so divine, I was smitten. I never even thought to take photos of them. There are no empanada photos to share. Nada. So you will have to go there to see these light purses of gold nuggets for yourself. Order the caramelized onions, gruyere, & fontina cheese empanada if you are somewhat vegetarian. If you're an omnivore, make sure to have the free-range chicken empanada in the mix.
Unbelievably light and airy. I was lost in enjoying these empanadas. I even want to learn how to make them! And perhaps this will have me re-examine the whole rice cake / kibbe situation. Maybe there are better ways to make them...
Anyway, I dipped these empanadas caseras into a chimichurri that blew all chimichurris out of the water. Actually, all of Tabaré's dipping sauces and herbed oils were sensational. I told Bruno (co-owner), if they bottled their condiments, I would stock up on the chimichurri. He said I wasn't the only one who's told him this.
Goya's is good. But it's Tabaré's twist on the flan that will have you gasp, "Oh boy-a." This was an incredible dessert. I usually don't take dessert because I rarely like to end a fabulous meal with something sweet, especially if it's dry like pies, cakes, or cookies. But I would have cried if I'd missed out on this one. It was topped with bitter coffee or espresso. So each bite was moist, just the right sweet, with bitter, and silky. Heaven.
If I'm not mistaken, Tabaré was named in honor of Tabaré Aguerre. An agronomist, he is Uruguay's Minister of Stockbreeding, Agriculture, and Fisheries.
I am pretty sure he is the Tabaré who inspired the place from reading a bit of their philosophy on the menu. The namesake restaurant supports sustainable fishing practices. It acknowledges our responsibility in animal stewardship. The restaurant also believes good food comes from strong relationships with their suppliers. "We like to know where our food comes from - farmers, ranchers, artisans."
The ambience is just as perfect. There is a very relaxed, cozy vibe. Dimly lit with great music (perfect volume) from all parts of South America, it is really a cozy place to go alone or with a date. I was utterly content to eat my empanadas with a glass of Malbec and listen to the music.
The hostess, Lorena, adds a great deal of personality to the place. Her stunning beauty is matched with a very charming, gracious, and easygoing manner. If reincarnation is possible in this world, I'd love to come back as a beautiful Latina from South America.
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| Tabaré Co-owner Bruno (left) and Hostess Lorena (right) |
Tabaré Restaurant
221 South 1st Street
Brooklyn, NY 11211
ph: 347.335.0187
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