Words and photos by Matt Dursum
As modern cafes draw in crowds hoping to experience the next best thing, the classics still exist. By somehow avoiding the Instagram-craze that plagues cafes in Buenos Aires’ trendier neighborhoods, they remain hideaways for people who like to reflect on life uninterrupted. Aside from the tourist’s hotspots, Buenos Aires’ Bares Notables remain locally focused, affordable, and—unapologetically no-frills—shrines to Argentinian food and drinking culture.
From Humble Origins
Bares Notables or notable bars were once merely everyday eateries where people could order anything from coffee or vermouth to Spanish tortillas or meaty empanadas. Many originated in the working-class neighborhoods of the city and functioned as dance halls for the new cultural phenomenon known as the tango.
In 1998, Argentina passed a law to protect up to 68 bars and cafes, designating them as “bares notables.” From this designation came extra governmental support through marketing and sometimes maintenance. Now the city’s bares notables function like cultural centers on top of providing a nostalgic environment to sip on vermouth and Amargo Obrero before enjoying homemade gnocchi.
Cafe Tortoni
It’s late Friday morning. I rush into the busy Cafe Tortoni. Portraits of Argentine writers, poets, and other influential figures adorn the walls. The mozo (waiter) beckons me to order in short, curt Spanish. It’s formal, quick, and everyone is on top of their game. No time for writing orders or second guessing them. I quickly order a jamón crudo con queso sandwich and a coffee.
Cafe Tortoni is arguably the oldest of the classic cafes. For over 160 years, the cafe has attracted famous intellectuals and figures like Julio Cortázar and Albert Einstein. Now it’s mostly foreigners—families from Brazil, Spanish tourists fresh off the yellow tourist bus, and the occasional local wanting to relive the old days.
La Poesía
Tired of braving the crowds of the novelty Cafe Tortoni, I head down to another famous Bar Notable. Here in the neighborhood of San Telmo, is La Poesía. The cafe opened in 1982 by poet and journalist Rubén Derlis as a meeting place for left-leaning intellectuals and artists. During the dictatorship, the cafe was an important spot for free political discussion and anti-military conversations. La Poesía closed and changed ownership several times before reopening under its current ownership.
I sit in the corner and order a milanesa with a pint of craft beer. Photos and decades old bottles cover the walls above an antique piano. The wooden staircase creaks above my head as customers leave for the day. The cafe is filled with people writing, working, and chatting about Argentina’s troubled economy. Before I leave, classic music comes on and the servers dance tango next to the piano.
Bar El Federal
From its humble beginnings as a cornerstone market and brothel, Bar El Federal’s 150 years of existence has been eventful. Poets, writers, politicians, and everyday people have considered this San Telmo staple their favorite. Today, its antique laden interior remains almost unchanged from the 100-year-old photographs that decorate its walls.
I walk into the bar and perch myself near the aged counter. I order a beer and picados, a plate of meat and cheese, and get absorbed in a book. You can still find yourself alone in the 150-year-old cafe, which, given its reputation, is astonishing. For antique lovers and people looking for an inspirational environment for writing or deep discussions, Bar El Federal is the place to be.
Cafe Margot
In the neighborhood of Boedo, Cafe Margot stands as an emblem of the city’s cafe scene. The cafe opened in 1903 and has since hosted a long list of influential Argentines, including the boxer “El Mono” and ex-president Juan Perón. Everyone, probably at one point, ordered its famous turkey sandwich.
Inside, jamón and salchicha hang from the ceiling. Classic milonga music plays from the stereo. “Muy bien, solo una cerveza y un postre, verdad?” Says the server affectionately. It’s only me seated inside. On a Friday, late afternoon, everyone else is seated comfortably outside, enjoying the spring air.
A man sits down in front of me. He wears olive colored corduroy pants, a navy Greek sailor’s cap, and a dark green sweater accentuated by his bright white beard and bushy eyebrows. He pulls out a pad of paper and a pen and begins writing. For an hour, he writes uninterrupted until the server brings him his second tea.