Review: Tango Argentina Food in St. Peters

To this day, when the word “tango” appears, the first thing I think of is Catherine Zeta-Jones dancing in “The Mask of Zorro.” I am not usually a fan of dancing interludes in my action flicks, but she breathed fire into that scene until there was nothing left but smoldering lumps of my heart.

The very, very last thing that would have crept into my head upon hearing the word “tango” was St. Peters. Still, there in my inbox was an e-mail claiming that, “Now the first and ONLY AUTHENTIC Argentine restaurant in the area is OPEN!” Its name was Tango Argentina Food and, since it was the first of its kind, it’s no wonder I had such trouble imagining what the food would be like. I hoped it would be sultry and that CZJ had given up her T-Mobile duties to hostess.

That last part might have been a stretch, but any cuisine with the influences of South America, Spain and Italy has to have sultry in there somewhere – or at least spicy and sassy. Bingo on all accounts.

Thankfully for an unrepentant city dweller like me, the cute little house on Main Street (about a half mile from the highway) that houses Tango was easy enough to find. The inside is decorated – as one might expect – in a musical theme. The walls are bright pastel-green and red and adorned with cutouts of musical notes, Argentine album covers and paintings of dancers probably doing the polka.

The menu, though compact, is exceptionally priced and focuses on a sampling of super-traditional dishes. On one visit my wife and I were able to order, with the exception of the four Milanesas (breaded and fried meat) dishes, one of everything on the menu, with sodas, for $22. Another pleasant surprise was the fact that six of the 11 dishes were meatless, even though every article I have read on Argentina’s cuisine contained some version of the phrase “meat, meat and more meat.”

Upon being told by the waitress that “everything is from Argentina,” I immediately asked for the best beer Argentina had to offer. Alas, no liquor license yet, but my mild disappointment quickly melted away when the empanadas arrived. Truly the stars of the menu, they are deep-fried, have a wonderfully crispy shell and are of a size and shape that eschews the need for silverware.

Spicy Empanadas de Carne, filled with juicy ground beef, onions and green and red peppers, gained a nice hint of brine from green olives and an interesting textural element from bits of hard-boiled eggs. The heat burned low and slow and traveled all the way down my chest, like a sip of good Scotch. The mild version tasted fine but seemed a little apathetic on the palate. When eating by hand, hold the Empanadas de Humita vertically; a creamy molten mélange of sweet corn, mozzarella and nutty Parmesan is tucked inside, just waiting to plop in your lap after a bite.

In the Empanadas de Espinaca, spinach was able to bind the mozzarella, Parmesan and Swiss cheeses, bits of hard-boiled egg and white sauce enough so that it was just mushy, not drippy. The spinach also lent a little bitterness to the nuttiness of the cheeses and contrasted the creamy sweetness of the sauce. These you can hold horizontally. Finally, the Empanadas de Jamón y Queso are essentially ham-and-cheese Hot Pockets, but a thousand times better.

On the Saturday I dined at Tango, an asado special was offered. Asado is the traditional Argentine barbecue that can consist of any meat but is usually beef. I received short ribs accompanied by a highball glass containing a plastic spoon and about three tablespoons of an herb-y liquid, the house-made chimichurri sauce, and it just might be my new favorite condiment. Recipes differ, but it is generally made of oil, oregano, garlic, onion, salt, pepper, paprika and parsley. In this version, vinegar added a nice acidic bite, and the garlic and oregano, though prominent, never overpowered the other flavors.

The Milanesa is a thin slice of beef that is breaded and fried. Mine arrived nearly well-done and made for a nice, simple sandwich with surprisingly delicious tomatoes (considering it was early spring), lettuce and mayonnaise (where was the chimichurri?). Fluffy, creamy and with a hint of salt and pepper, the Pure de Papas (Argentine-style mashed potatoes) were oddly similar to the South City-style I grew up on.

Ham-and-cheese tarta and the spinach tarta had basically the same flavors as the empanadas but came in pie form – that is, instead of being deep-fried they’re baked and sold in slices. The crust was appropriately flaky and tender, but the dishes suffered a little from uneven reheating. Some spots were nice and hot while others were just warm. They probably saw the inside of a microwave.

The Pasta Frola de Frutilla (strawberry pie) – a thick, cakey base topped with a thin layer of extra-sweet strawberry filling the consistency of reduced jam – was pleasing, but the ultra-rich, very fudgy brownie blew me away when I dipped it in my coffee.

The next time I go back, I hope I’ll be able to try the native beers with the spicy empanadas. Heck, maybe by then the menu will have ramped up a little. And maybe I’ll convince them to sell me a batch of chimichurri sauce.