It’s very common to find Italian dishes at an Argentinean restaurant. For every churrasco and empanada you’re sure to find some spaghetti and lasagna. People go to Che Tito for a plate of meat, but their Italian food will leave you wishing you had eaten somewhere else. You’re better off visiting your favorite Italian place, because that’ll probably be where you end up if you eat here. And to make matters worse, service is so dreadful I found myself contemplating to leave various times.
You might miss Che Tito, which wouldn’t be a bad thing, as it’s hidden in a Kendall shopping center at 12018 SW 88 Street. Its small interior fits roughly 10-12 tables with a bar area which sits people as well. Bring a sweater, it’s so freezing you’ll be looking to the outside in wonderment.
When it comes to steak you can get an entraña, which is the traditional skirt steak taken from the plate of the cow, or lower belly. A flap steak, or vacio, can also be ordered. This one is from the animal’s bottom sirloin part, close to the butt, but not quite. These steaks are both very thin cuts of meat, but definitely large enough to satisfy some hunger. Both come for $11.99 at Che Tito, with one side accompaniment. Yuca fries came with crispy edges and soft inside. I didn’t miss potatoes one bit.
This place is an Argentinean steakhouse above anything. The smells will make any vegetarian shudder, or think twice about their choices in life. Your steak is cooked how you like it when you order it. As delicious as the vacio looked, with no sign of fat, it wasn’t as soft as it should have been. Next time, at another Argentinean steakhouse, I will order the entraña to ensure complete softness.
Italian dishes come in your choice of three sauces; Alfredo, roja (red) or rosada (pink), according to the menu. Gnocchi with Alfredo sauce sounded filling, so I ordered some with “salsa blanca” to our Spanish-speaking, inattentive, waitress. “Salsa blanca” translates to white sauce. Since there were only three sauce selections on the menu, I should be getting my pillowy fluffs in a pool of cheesy Alfredo sauce, I thought.
There was plenty of time for thinking and craving during the next 35 minutes. That’s how long it took for the waitress to even glance at us again. When I was finally able to grasp her away from the bar, she looked dumbfounded. She thought we had ordered my meal to go, which still didn’t explain why it was taking so long in a pretty empty place. When the gnocchi finally came, it came in a white sauce. But this was no Alfredo sauce; maybe if Alfredo had been revoked of his taste buds and had a knack for hospital food. For lack of a better word, it was disgusting. What gives flavor to gnocchi is the sauce given with them. The one flavor that overwhelmed this sauce was nutmeg. A lot of nutmeg and pepper.
I let the waitress know about my disappointment. She straight up tells me that what I ordered was not Alfredo sauce, but white sauce. Made of corn meal, water and nutmeg, she adds. Not once apologizing for the mixup, she asks if I would like the same gnocchi washed off and served with Alfredo sauce. THE SAME GNOCCHI. And what’s worse is that apparently, the chef recommended my already used gnocchi to be washed off instead of using fresh ones. No where on the menu did it mention the addition of a white sauce that is not Alfredo.
If only the waitress had been more interested in making sure we were getting what we wanted maybe I would have stayed for some crepes. But I couldn’t take this place any longer. The astringent taste of that gnocchi had taken over and no amount of soda could take it away. Dinner had been ruined, but at least I learned to be very clear about what I want from now on. You can’t depend on the unkindness of some waitresses.