This wine is a cross between flat coca-cola and sweet vermouth, and even that is speaking too highly of it ($1 a huge cup). It is, however, the quintessential wine when eating pizza in Buenos Aires, and fortunately the quality of the pizza is much greater than the quality of this wine.
Owing to its Italian heritage, Buenos Aires has more than 3,000 pizzerias. From the looks of it, most of them are pretty tasty, but two blocks from our apartment is Angelin. With apparently nothing better to do, the Ministry of Culture here dubbed 39 pizzerias of “patriominal worth”. Angelin gets on the list for being the creators of the “pizza canchera”, a cheese-less pizza with an herb-laden sweet tomato sauce sliced into odd shapes at the whim of the guy behind the counter.
Our favorite of the six pizza varieties we’ve tried so far is the fugazzeta, caramelized onions smothered by a ton of gooey mozzarella. The service is gruff and the clientele is mostly single men standing or sitting elbow-to-elbow dissecting their slices with fork and knife and offering up their seats to Cara.
Pizza is our new found greatest discovery of this city, but the wine they serve with it sure is terrible.
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