Restaurants in Argentina

Olsen transports diners from Palermo Viejo to Scandinavia with its seafood-heavy menu and impressive selection of more than 60 vodkas. Dishes like blini, smoked herring, and red tuna are a large part of the restaurant’s allure, but so is the 60’s-inspired dining room, set in a former warehouse.

Here’s a nook once loved by Jorge Luis Borges. Over there, a table favored by tango singer Carlos Gardel. Here, your café con crema comes surrounded by history. Order the tostado especial Tortoni, the world’s biggest yet lightest grilled cheese, ham, and tomato sandwich.

Owner Luis Acuna founded El Pobre Luis back in 1986, and the unassuming Núñez parrilla has become one of the city’s most legendary. Poor Lou, as hes called, is credited with first bringing the style of asado (grilled meat) from his native Uruguay to Buenos Aires.

One of the joys of dining in Buenos Aires is that virtually any restaurant with a grill can crank out the best beef you’ve ever tasted. This no-frills parrilla is a perfect example of scrumptious simplicity.

Located in the center of the Palermo Soho shopping district, this casually chic restaurant serves French-Mediterranean fusion fare along with handcrafted cocktails and local wines from the Mendoza Province.

The northwest's "high plains cuisine" with contemporary style.

With its huge picture windows, long red banquettes, and curved wood walls, the Standard takes the style of an Edward Hopper 1950s diner (albeit with a less lonely vibe) and updates it with a minimalist, modern look.

Hands down the best option for a sit-down dinner, La Pausa serves excellent Argentine cuisine like grilled bife de chorizo (sirloin strip) or four-cheese gnocchi in a spacious, low-lit dining room.

This venue is closed.

This bustling lunchtime favorite among Porteños, who have been crowding the two level space since it first opened in another location in the 1940s.

Once a tailor shop, then a deli with a bar, this ur-bodegón is famous for its collection of old vermouth bottles, grilled sardines, and a wine-infused oxtail stew.

The oak-fueled ovens at Filo churn out wispy, chewy marvels in a nineties-kitsch space steps from Calle Florida. Long-haired diners nibble on elegant arugula-and-Parmesan salads while trying to decide among some three dozen toppings.