By Dereck Foster
For the Herald

I have frequently maintained in these columns that a recipe in a kitchen - with the sole exception of baking - is no more than a signpost indicating the road which is best followed if a certain result is desired. Only when baking is it essential to follow the instructions exactly if one wishes to avoid poor results or outright failure.

Frequently we are confronted with some dish or other which completely blows our mind. This is food I want to repeat, you vow, and set about obtaining the recipe. When you finally cook the dish it may turn out to be great but you instantly realise that, however great it may be, it is not quite like what you first met. This phenomenon is not confined just to domestic cooking. A certain dish, classic as it may be, will frequently differ from one restaurant to another, however professional and celebrated the chef may be (Deciding which version you like best is part of the pleasure of elegant eating).

This introduction is induced by a request that I recently received from a Herald reader who goes by the name of Rosemary and lives in San Isidro. Rosemary's request is based on the fact that she was recently given a cookbook as a present - she is celebrated amongst her friends as being a better than average cook - and the theme of the book is Basque cuisine.

She tells me that she tried a couple of the simpler recipes and was so enchanted with the results that she wants to visit "two or three of the best Basque restaurants in town to see how they cook their food." As a sort of PS, she adds that for Xmas a potential son-in-law is travelling from Spain to spend the holidays in San Isidro and she would love to surprise him with "a taste of his home cooking," during his stay. (He lives in San Sebastián, a sort of mystical capital of Basque cuisine).

It is this last point that really worries me, for it is one thing to enjoy a plate of kokotxas in San Sebastian and another to consume the same delicacy in Buenos Aires, however carefully and fresh the fish tongues and cheeks have been handled.

Having spent a large part of my six years in Spain living and/or visiting the Basque country, I can vouch for this fact, although the casual visitor and tourist will probably not notice. In view of the fact that matrimonial intentions are, here, apparently mixed up with gastronomic matters, I fear that the responsability of recommending top Basque cuisine in our city is putting me rather too close to the wall. But here go three suggestions that should meet the major portion of Rosemary's requirements.

I think that the first, and best, recommendation should be Sagardi Euskal Taberna (Humberto Primo 319, 4361-2538), which set up shop in San Telmo, little more than a year ago. It has carved out a reputation for truly genuine Basque cuisine, sans the all too familiar local touches that most restaurants of this type in BA have adopted. It is divided into two areas. The first, when one enters the old, renovated building, is where you can stop to enjoy as many pinchos (hot and cold) as you wish, washed down with natural cider (the Basque drink above all others, including beer). Pinchos (miniature skewers) are charged at seven pesos each. The main menu is by no means easy on the pocket, but the Chipirones en su tinta (squid in their ink), the Tortilla de bacalao (dried cod omelette), the oxtail and the Basque tart (filled with almonds) are worth a little sacrifice No closing.

Next on my list, I will place Bizkaia (Nicaragua 4432, Te. 4832-1569) who has been dishing up the Kokotxas in green sauce, since 2005, with a great amount of success.
Rather easier on the pocket than Sagardi, it is equally authentic in its preparations. It specialises in fresh fish prepared on a hotplate and served with a sauce of your choice, such as Santurzana, Verde or Ajillo. Also celebrated here is the Bacalao al pil-pil. Take into account that it is closed on Sunday evenings.

Finally, comes what I think may probably be the oldest top Basque restaurant in town and which deserves a mention. I'm referring to Taberna Baska (Chile 980, Te. 4334-0903), who have been keeping Basques and foreigners alike happy since 1940.

Oxtail is a house standard favourite and so is the paella, both of which veer more towards the Spanish tradition than the strictly Basque. However the zarzuela (a stew combining fish and seafood) is probably its strongest argument for figuring amongst the Basque elite. Perhaps a good zarzuela, sprung at table at the right moment, could well induce the wedding bells to ring out loud and clear.

It is reasonably priced and it only closes Sundays at night.

One of the features that most closely marks and identifies Basque cuisine is all that which emerges from the sea. Fish and seafood are the backbone of the Basque gastronomic traditions. This is logical given that the Basque nation -which many historians date as being at least 50,000 years old - has always been a maritime society, jammed between the sea and the Pyrenees.
While the sea apparently imposed its character upon the mountains, a closer study of Basque cuisine shows us that this is not all that so. An item which is much appreciated in the Basque country - and in which I indulged to a fairly extensive degree, enjoying as varied an experience as one could imagine - are the variety of fungi available in the woods and valleys close to the seashores. In particular the Basques love to gorge on.
Morels and Chanterelles - known as karraspina and saltxaperretxiku respectively - preparing them in a number of simple but delicious ways. Dried beans and pulses are also a feature of Basque cuisine, while the roast lamb prepared for special occasions - most especially the Tamborrada - has to be tasted to be believed.

But Basque cuisine has expanded beyond its natural borders, that include a sliver of France as well as Spain. It is now considered an international influence, along with its great Spanish rival, the cuisine of Catalonia. Basque and Catalan cooks are stars worldwide and do not hesitate - as they used to do when I lived in Spain - to compete with their French counterparts and frequently win out. It is thus with a certain sense of intrigue that I pass on the above sketchy advice to Rosemary and wish her all the best of luck.

Do not forget that the way to a mans heart is through his stomach. At least, that is how I see it.