RECIPE FOR MAKING an Argentine – add in the following order: One Indian woman, two Spanish horsemen, three Mestizo gauchos, one English traveller, half a Basque worker, and a pinch of Portuguese. Allow to cook for three centuries at low temperature. Before serving, quickly add five Italians, a Russian, a German, a Galician, three-fourths a Lebanese, and finally a whole Frenchman. Allow to sit for 50 years, then serve.
That’s what it says on the wall at Sosta, Adelaide’s brand new Argentinian restaurant in Rundle Street East.

Sosta looks fabulous, sparely decorated, spacious, with a fridge at the end of the dining room spruiking a display of meat of awesome cut and quality all by itself. The menu is a reminder that Argentina is meat. Big time. They have a saying: “A vegetarian in Argentina is like a duck out of water.”
A first visit to a devoted meat specialist like this demands that I have as many bits of flesh as possible so I can report back to you. Luckily there is a dish that snuggles into the agenda. Parrillada de carne, for two, at $35. It is a mixed grill, just like the irremovable dish on the menu at your local pub. Except Sosta’s version is spectacular. Veal ribs, chicken, quail, rump, chorizo, lamb pinchitos, with plenty of potatoes for your vitamin C fix. Great meat, perfectly cooked; particularly the large veal rib, a cut blithely ignored by most of Australia. A monster amount of protein for a dish that splits at $17.50 a head.

We ordered a sanctimonious (on our behalf) ensalada mixta which, although it went largely uneaten in the meat scramble, was a refreshing mix of fetta, red onion, Kalamata olives, tomato and cucumber with fresh salad greens. ($10.90) Another side dish we desperately needed was called hongos ($4.90) – a field mushroom ragout, supercharged with porcini mushrooms and an unctuous beef glaze, scented with rosemary.

Before this all started we were treated to some magnificent bread. Chewy and comforting on the inside, with the right amount of perfectly sized air bubbles, and the thinnest crisp crust. I am not going to spill all of Sosta’s secrets, mainly because I don’t know them, but here is one: the bread comes from Paesano Bakery in Mile End. Keep it under your hat. Superior olives flavoured with lemon accompanied the winsome bread. Incredibly there was no sign of the evil olive oil/balsamic vinegar saucer that blights Australian restaurant tables.

And another thing. When the imposing Parrillada was delivered to our table a waiter appeared with the inevitable jumbo grinder to ask if pepper was required. We chorused, “Is it necessary? He smiled and turned on his heel. He trusts that the chef will always ensure that the meal is balanced before it leaves the kitchen. Anyway, how could a diner possibly guesstimate correct seasoning without a preliminary taste? I blame Italians (not every single one of them) all over the world for forcing patrons into a blind decision at the start of a meal. It is my theory that they are in love with the drama of springing out of nowhere flourishing a grinder. Theatre masquerading as service. Humph.

There are other seductive items on the menu, Pato, for instance. That’s a half a duck that has been slow roasted in aromatic herbs, white wine, green olives and garlic served in its own glaze. ($24.50) Or the master-blaster: T-bone steak in three sizes. 500 grams ($25.90) 700 grams ($31.90) 1 kilogram ($43.50) The steaks looked very, very good in the raw. At the time of my visit Sosta had only been open a few days and only one serve of one kilogram steak had been sold. The meat fan in question apparently ate a full meal around it, entrée, salads, vegetables, couple of beers, ample wine; then picked every skerrick of meat off the bone. Blimey.

We let ourselves be wheedled into a traditional dessert of fried sweet pastries called Churros served with strawberries and a tall glass of warm dipping chocolate with a smidgin of hazelnut ($10.90). This dessert is major in Buenos Aires – I can understand why. Another Latin American favourite is Dulce de Leche, roughly translated as “milk jam” which comes with crepes at Sosta.

After dinner I talked to the three partners in Sosta. Vince Aiossa and Sal Barca are in the kitchen, Phillip Tropiano rules the floor. Why and how Argentina? Vince said that he was surrounded by an intense Italian food culture growing up at Virginia, and for a while he was apprenticed to an Argentinian chef. There is a massive Italian population in Argentina and much to-ing and fro-ing. He told me how his family’s olive oil, olives and other home-made foodstuffs would be used in the restaurant next year. Vince burns with zeal and commitment, and it shines from his partners. Phillip was thrilled at the prospect of bringing in rare Argentinian wines not seen before in Australia. He was also the waiter who made the pepper grinder disappear. I hope Sosta will boom and all three of these driven young perfectionists become rich and famous.

Later, Vince’s sister, Anna, who also works the floor, told us that Vince had always been crazy about cooking, and was baking cakes for the family when he was nine years old.

Sosta means “stop” as in pause or break for a meal. It is also a vague back-formation from a word meaning sustenance.