“It’s so pretty, let’s have lunch there! Who cares about the food!” I half joked to my friends.
Aesthetics convinced me to choose Baldomero over a terrace for lunch. Self-described as “a country house in the middle of the city”. Baldomero is painted an ochre tainted pink inside and out.
Somewhere there are photogenic stairs where light and shadow meet so abruptly I can draw a line between the two. It’s on these stairs that influencers pseudo casually drape themselves. I’m having lunch here because of those stairs. I pose, lemur-like on them too. I know only vaguely that the food features vegetables, possibly a buffet?
There’s another reason. Milla, the vegan food box mini mogul lunched here recently and liked it. And while some bloggers intentionally blur the lines between sponsored and paid for, Milla tells it straight.
I am pleased to report that Baldomero is much more than just “those stairs”. There is a small pretty terrace out front, booked out today. A large airy restaurant follows beyond. The buffet has been axed in reaction to the new safety restrictions the counter is still displayed with pastry and cakes. I spot the unmistakable swell and layers of Yellow Bakery croissants.
The menu consists of a plate of 3 salads (12€) or the same with an animal protein added. Most at our table go for a mixed rice salad, which I avoid because rice and fridge equal hard and starchy.
I have a carrot salad tossed in zaatar on top of blackened carrot fronds. An excellent example of why chickpeas are the pulse that just keeps giving, in a loose tomato sauce and tender and yielding. My third choice is a potato and green bean salad in a generous helping of house pesto with half an unctuous egg. The potatoes are not cooked through all the way, which I can commiserate with. Potatoes can be all over the place here and what works for one type doesn’t always apply to another kind of potato. To add to the confusion, potatoes are mostly nameless being identified only as boiling, frying or mashing suitable.
We’ve acquiesced to eating indoors because the large French windows at the back are creating a reassuring draft. By the time we’ve finished, the place has filled up to its aforo limit and I make a quick exit. But not before perching on the stairs and asking my friends to take a picture of me which makes me look “tall” and “thin” but “without a double chin”. It’s a wonder I still have any friends left.
Read about Milla here.