A PIZZA FORGIVENESS . . .

I am feeling bad about having given La Vaca Argentina a bit of  bashing, so I have been thinking about how I can make some sort of gesture of amends towards the land of the 'Gaucho'.  And guess what? I did not have to go far.  Not a stone's throw, up the street (Huertas Street, that is), we stumbled upon "Il Piccolino della Farfalla"; A Little Butterfly that set my butterflies all a flutter!  


Here we have another Argentine restaurant with an Italian soul that simply oozes out of its rustic warm cream interior of old parlour chairs, benches, cushions, painted panels and curtains, but, more importantly, from every dish on the menu.   It does not boast anything other than your standard Italian fare and to be honest the prices are so ridiculously cheap that you would be forgiven for thinking you might have hit upon the local student diner (pizzas under €8, deserts under €5,  a perfectly agreeable house red wine for €6 - the bottle!).  But do not let the prices fool you.  Il Piccolino is as good an Argo-Italian diner as you are likely to find in Madrid as it turns out. Everything it does it does scrumptiously well; dishing up pizzas, pastas, meat dishes, salads and deserts as only your Italian Mama might. 


All about us patrons' faces are lighting up like those crazed excited medieval diners or jesters you might see in a Brueghal work.  Tables surround us with 'reserved' notices; it is no wonder.  At the door, eager would-be guests are turned away one after the other; no surprise there either (the place has queues on its bookings list).  Part of the kitchen area, at the entrance to this deceptively sizey place, immediately announces that this house is all about the food.  The good humoured staff bounce about the place with the confidence that only a good consistent kitchen can give them.  There will be no complaints here. Our stone baked pizzas (with fine Spanish chorizo) were crisp and hot severed up on wooden palates. The mozzarella was soft and oily. Perfect. And desert? Well, no disappointment here either  (Somebody should have sent the pastry chef down to La Vaca to show them what a real Tiramisù is all about).


The general air of happiness was only briefly interrupted.  At one point, a grumpy Porteño behind us hollered for a digestif, catching the attention of the whole restaurant.  "Have you anything decent?" he cries out as a chirpy waitress passes his table.  "I have something to put a smile on your face, Caballero!" she tweets cheekily.  The old fellow grunts, unimpressed.  In seconds she is back with a label-less bottle she has swiped from the 1950's fridge beside us.  She pounds a miniature tumbler in front of the retired dictator and begins to spill a yellow syrupy substance up to the rim of the glass. "Now, try that!" she chirps confidently. The grump looks at her suspiciously with the face of man who can never be made happy.  He sips. "Ah, que rico!" He exclaims, catching himself by surprise with  his miserable face betraying a tiny glint of satisfaction.  The Waitress tops him up again and then pounds the cork into the bottle with a pop. "De la casa!" she says with a wink and whips the bottle back in to the cooler before disappearing into the kitchen like a non-plused surgeon passes through swinging doors after a successful heart transplant.  Judging by all the faces here, the warm cheeks and warmer bellies (OK, we had some of that glorious Limoncello too!), she just might as well have completed heart surgery on us all.  Did I mention the Tiramisù?


"Il Piccolino della Farfalla" at 6, Calle Huertas (just off Plaza Santa Ana) is open 2.30pm - 4-30pm and 6.30pm - early hours of the morning every day of the week. 091 -369 4391 - Booking advised.