From 1930: the corner bar where Florencio Molina Campos lived

There are corners that tell stories. Lavalle and Rodríguez Peña is one of them. There, at one end of the San Nicolás neighborhood, lived Florencio Molina Campos, the artist who knew how to portray the gaucho homeland, the same one that the people of Buenos Aires regarded with disdain. There, also, on that same lot, is where a bar and grocery store opened in 1930 that not only remains open, but—after a change of owners in 2023—is displayed today in all its splendor. The name is the same as always, the same one that appeared on its sign 100 years ago: Almacén y Bar Lavalle. A bastion in defense of that national identity that ranges from the countryside to the city, from the rebenque (a whip) to the fileteado (a fileteado), from cuisine with Spanish and Italian roots to Creole cuisine. A picture of the past, with its swinging doors welcoming you at the corner, its shelves of vermouths and various bottles, its coffee served all day, its crunchy matches, its tortilla, its pebetes, and its milanesas. Diego Pasquale, one of the new partners, serves here, proud of the history and the present of this establishment.

–It is said that Molina Campos lived here…

–That's right: Molina Campos lived on this lot at the beginning of the 20th century with his family. For us, this is a foundational event. So much so that a few weeks ago, together with the Buenos Aires City Legislature and Gonzalo Giménez Molina—Florencio's grandson, who is charged with protecting his legacy—we organized a tribute to this great Argentine artist, who made the invisible visible by painting this countryside despised by a city that looked to Europe. It was a day of celebration.

–How did you go from being an artist’s home to a bar and warehouse?

–In 1925, this lot was acquired by the Risso family, half German and half Creole. They bought the house, demolished it, and built the current five-story building, which still belongs to the same family. Construction began in 1928; in 1930, the ground floor opened as a commercial space, with the Lavalle Store and Bar. We found a photo of the facade from that period, which we used to replicate the sign that was at the entrance.

–Did the Rissos run the bar?

–No, from what people in the neighborhood tell us, at least in the 1950s and 1960s, the bar belonged to two Galicians, one named Otero. We have a neighbor who lives upstairs, about 80 years old, who used to come down to buy from them. Then, in the 1990s, there were other owners, who modernized the space in keeping with the times. They painted the cedar bar a wenge, chocolate-like color, covered the floors with laminate flooring, installed ecru-colored armchairs, and dichroic lighting. Many are horrified, but perhaps if they hadn't done that, the place wouldn't have stood the test of time. I don't criticize them; I feel they did what was necessary to survive an era.

–Is that where you take it?

–No, here comes Susana Sassano, she gave life to the place. She's a poet and writer who has kept the place a typical daytime café in Tribunales. She added Friday literary nights, bringing together writers and musicians. It's something we also like to revive. We recently held a celebration with many of these writers, and we asked Hernán Lavolpe, a brilliant Buenos Aires artist, to write their names on some of the chairs, as a tribute to these gatherings. Now you can sit in the chairs of Marta de París, Marcos Silber, Jorge Paolantonio, Dirbi Maggio, among many others.

–Does the place maintain an audience of artists?

–We're very close to Sadaic, so many authors who go there come here for a drink or lunch. There's a wide range of styles, from Michel Peyronel of Riff to Nico Fabio, Leonardo's son, to Kevin Johansen, to more punk bands like Dos Minutos, Sergio Gramática (of Los Violadores), and bandoneonist Walter Ríos, a regular here, who comes with his partner, singer Mariel Dupetit, and they order a classic omelet, with parsley and no onions.

–They also have a large audience from the theaters on Corrientes Avenue…

–An important change we made to the bar was the opening hours. It's no longer just for offices; we're open from 8 a.m. to 2 a.m., every day. And we don't put a tablecloth, because this is a bar: you can come for dinner, but also for a coffee, no matter the time. Almacén and Bar Lavalle always welcome you with their doors open, and people appreciate that. Many actors and actresses come here when they're leaving the theater: Virginia Innocenti, Leo Sbaraglia, Chino Darín, who celebrated Father's Day here with Ricardo, the San Martín set designer Mauricio Wainrot, Pachu Peña. It's very eclectic.

–You took over the bar after the pandemic crisis, when the neighborhood was undergoing a complete transformation. How do you see the Tribunals now?

–It's the place where I'd like to live when I retire: you have everything close by, you can go out, have a coffee, go to the theater. There are other excellent places nearby, like Los Galgos, Mar Azul, El Celta. And there are incredible apartments at very affordable prices: you can buy an apartment for less than $1,000 per square meter, with marble details, Slavonian oaks, and fantastic quality. Many homes, which decades ago were converted into offices, are now being converted back into homes, with young people moving in because the universities are close here.

–Did you have to make many changes to the place?

We tried to keep it as authentic as possible: we restored the facade, uncovered the ceiling, cleaned the painted wood, removed what was left of the floating ceiling, polished the granite floors, and refinished the original bar. The biggest work was in the kitchen; we refurbished it to meet current needs and requirements.

–How would you define the gastronomic offering of the place?

–Today we slice cold cuts fresh for the appetizers, which we serve in the typical steel trays, with up to 20 ingredients, including warm ones like sausages with bacon and vermouth. We have pebetes, one of the stars of the menu. And what we call heritage cuisine, the one bequeathed to us by our ancestors, a mix of Creole, Italian, German, Galician, and all those who came to make it in America: there's garlic shrimp, tortilla, oxtail, and also the Asturian cachopo, which is like a stuffed Milanese.

–They gave the little one a very prominent role…

–It's a great Argentine product. Focaccia is all the rage these days, and everything's good, but for us, the pebete is the best there is. We make homemade bread, like brioche; we have a beautiful Berkel slicer on display, and we slice the 12-month-old raw ham we bring from Córdoba there. We make specials like the whole tenderloin, braised veal, or chicken with avocado; there's matambre, pickled eggplant, leberwurst with sweet and sour cucumbers, among many others. And we add other Argentine classics, like the ham and cheese fosforitos or the 100% butter croissant.

–With its history and present, how would you define the Lavalle Warehouse and Bar?

–We're a remarkable bar, a place where people meet. More than a story, stories happen. Those at one table start talking to those at another table; we have regulars who congratulate us, others who challenge us: one customer told me she loved coming here, but that it was very noisy, and she was right. Based on that comment, we soundproofed the ceiling. While Tribunales isn't a typical neighborhood, we still have that neighborhood feeling we like, with whiskey-drinking customers who always come; and with students who arrive with their notebooks or computers. We strive to be hosts, with all that that means: offering the best you have, as you would if someone came to your house. And when customers leave, we don't ask them if they ate well, but if they had a good time. That's the whole point. Especially in these difficult economic times, when we all need to be pampered, cared for, and respected.

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