While the food here is undoubtedly delicious, a lot of it tends to be more of the same. We eat in, we have steak. We eat out, we have steak. So when our guidebook promised "mouthwatering quesadillas" and "excellent margaritas," I was all in.
We even set a date on our calendar: 8 p.m. at the Mexican restaurant. To pass the afternoon hours, we headed to a café near our new apartment, ordered a cappuccino and settled in to wait. As soon as we arrived at "La Fábrica del Taco," we flipped over our menus to peruse the margaritas -- "the house specials." Mango margarita, margarita with avocado, margarita with cilantro, peach margarita.
Not to be waylaid by a confusing exchange about maracuyá (passionfruit), we soon had our Mexican fare. I wouldn't exactly call our tacos mouthwatering, but they were appetizing, if a little heavy on the meat. However, there's not a good word that can be spoken about the margaritas. The reason, it seems, all comes back to limes.
Margaritas in Argentina, even at a Mexican restaurant adorned with lucha libre masks and ornate crosses, are made using lemons. Maybe limes just aren't made in Argentina? I don't know, but someone needs to tell them that margaritas made with lemon aren't margaritas at all.