We just returned from dinner at La Cabrera. Like most who have come to Buenos Aires, we'd heard nothing but great things about this place, and were very much looking forward to our meal. We heard the food is legendary, and that if you had to wait, they serve you champagne out on the sidewalk, which they do.

We went on a Tuesday, early-ish (8:30), and were immediately seated outside. The waiter zip-tied my wife's bag to the chair, which was much appreciated as BA is quite literally teeming with thieves (don't let that deter you from coming; it's an excellent city). We were practically salivating as we read the menu. But after 35 minutes sitting there waiting for the waiter to come back and take our drink order, salivation ceased to be an option. We just sat there utterly parched.

The waiter finally took our order, with a perfunctory apology. We ordered steak, a bacon-wrapped pork shoulder, a salad and a bottle of wine. The bottle of wine showed up ten minutes later, and then sat on our table for ten minutes before the waiter uncorked it. At that point, we were in a forgiving mood. The place was busy, and seemed understaffed. Plus things move slowly here in BA.

The salad came, and was quite good. Palm hearts, tomatoes and avocado, with a Russian dressing. (I should mention as well that the bread was very, very good.)

Then came the main course. At La Cabrera, you not only get your meat, but myriad sides as well, maybe nine or ten. Bean salads, dips, spreads, etc. It amounts to a tremendous amount of food, so, if you do go, one entree is more than enough for two people.

My wife's steak was good enough. Not superlative (there are steaks in BA the likes of which you've never tasted in your life), but solid. I on the other hand received three rather forlorn-looking overcooked distressingly fatty pork chops. That I paid top dollar (for BA, but still, the principle) for a totally mediocre and tragically mishandled cut of meat would be galling enough if that was what I actually ordered. Which it wasn't.

After jabbing unenthusiastically at my sad heap of pork for a while and sampling the sides, I lamented that my Spanish wasn't strong enough to sufficiently express my disappointment. Not that that mattered. The waiter, when he came back, whisked the food away, disappeared again, and then unceremoniously dropped a dessert menu on the table without showing the slightest interest in whether the meal was to our liking.

We passed on dessert and got the check. Which had factored into it a 10% service charge, and was helpfully stamped, in English, with the words "TIP NOT INCLUDED." It was at this point that it began to register that this place didn't value me in the slightest as a customer. Instead, it was implied that I should be thankful they deigned to serve me at all, and I should take this series of passive-aggressive insults without complaint. If I didn't like it, well, there was a line literally to the corner full of other suckers eager to take my place; people who are fully willing to shell out 200 pesos for a dinner a notch above what one might find at an Outback in New Hampshire.

After we paid the tip, my wife asked the waiter to cut the zip-tie on her bag to we could leave. He enthusiastically nodded. We then waited for another ten minutes, as he blithely walked back and forth, passing us again and again, chatting with the other customers, serving food, drinks, etc. Finally, he cut loose the woman sitting behind us, and, after being beckoned back to our table, freed my wife.

Buenos Aires has the best steak I've ever eaten in my life. No exaggeration. But not this place. Try Don Julio, also in Palermo. One of the finest meals I've ever eaten. Short of gimmickry like free champagne, long on grilling fundamentals, and all for a little less money.

Plus, and this may be the most important part, Don Julio's has the added virtue of not sending you away wondering why the wait staff seemed to sort of hate you.