Just go eat there. That’s it. Spoiler warning, it’s amazing. You don’t need to read any more. If you don’t live in Calgary, move, and if you can’t, I weep for your very souls. And if you’re in Calgary, why are you still reading this? Unless you’re already heading there by some form of rapid transport, you should stop doing what you’re doing immediately and eat at Gauchos. Raise your children tomorrow. A good job will wait for you. It is awesome. What more needs to be said. It’s as good as restaurant like it can be, and that’s really good. Just go. Put down the tablet, phone, or computer and go…
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Okay, I’m paid by the word count (umm, you’re not paid at all) so I better start padding. Gaucho’s is an economical idea made even better by amazing food delivered in an amazing way. Meat is brought to your table skewered on a sword. That is awesome, as awesome as ocelots, King Ghidorah, and…well, the universe. I mean it’s not exactly a sword, it’s a skewer. But it’s three feet long, solid steel, with a sharp point, so when I claim it sword-like, enough to proxy in pinch, I believe I’m on solid ground on the claim. The menu is brilliant in its simplicity, with barely a dozen options. Really, it’s just one, the seven meats. That’s right, seven meats--rump steak, garlic top sirloin, rosemary pork loin, gaucho sausage, herbed chicken wings, Parmigiano beef and spicy garlic brisket. It’s a proper comparison equating those with the seven summits—the highest mountains on each of the continents, and seriously almost an esteemed achievement. The sweats kick in about half-way through, and you feel like you’re about to run out of oxygen, but you soldier on. Why? Because they’re there!
Okay, seriously, Gaucho is fantastic in its simplicity, a chain or franchise would muddle the waters with complex ideas and padded, compromised menus. This has one idea—a salad bar saddled with BBQ meat brought to the table via sword delivery. You are presented with a two-colored cow-shaped card. As long as one side is up, the meat will keep flowing to your table. When you’ve had enough, flip it over to stop the line. Simple. I challenge everyone to finish, because they are all worth it, especially if fortunate to arrive before the lunch rush, insuring you’ll have first cut. And I usually hate salad bars. I find any place requiring the same level of plexi-protection as what guards the Pope from assassination is probably not for me. If food is locked away behind an inch of Formica, I generally move on. This was good, and attractive, not just for a salad bar, not in the way we compliment ugly children, legitimately appealing. Like the baguettes on wooden boards with an inviting knife for people to cut. The varieties of salad ranged from the simple to the sublime. It’s after you’ve taken your filled plate to your table does the journey begin and the first sword delivered.
They shave, you pinch with your tongs, and they give you a moment before returning again. You can say no to anything offered, and can have repeats of what you like the most. So yeah, I was not a huge fan of anything with bones still in place, so sorry chicken. The beef however, was astounding as were the sausages. Between servings, you can take in the adorable restaurant, shockingly upmarket considering the cuisine. I especially liked the fire hazard of a central chandelier. Seriously, whose ideas was this? It had to have been intentional—with seven rustic bulbs mounted on the outer rim of a wagon wheel; each bulb’s lengthy cable wound clumsily around the central pillar until plugged into its own socket in the ceiling. If you saw that in your friend’s house, you would mock it, the result of an insane DIY projects no architect in his right mind would endorse. This had to have been intentional, with the eight power plugs and the forty feet of cables wrapped around the pillar. No no, don’t cut them, just wind them maniacally around the center. It’s so obvious, it had to be deliberate, so in a way, it’s also kind of brilliant. If this was a crappy Canadian pub only serving hot wings and beer nuts located in the demilitarized zone of Prince George, you would shake your head and walk out. Here, it’s adorable.
Did I mention the meat is served on a sword? You still think I’m joking—the skewer is not a rod with a point—It has a flat edge and fuller. It’s a friggin’ sword. And at $20 at head during lunch time, it’s a steal. The staff was awesome, the décor was funky and functional. That’s it, just go. Gaucho skirted possible negative stereotypes and created a great location and one worthy of anyone’s money. Go now.
Food: 5/5
Service: 4/5
Presentation: 5/5
Value: 5/5
Recommendation: 5/5
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