Tango began as a street food stall selling pizza in Killarney during the pandemic. As happened during those bizarre days, ever more surreal with each passing year, Tango became a tantalising online culinary sensation where we feasted with our eyes, seeing, yet unable to taste.
Turns out what gave pleasure to the eye was equally pleasing to the palate and its Argentinian owners, Facundo Rodolfo and Pamela Neumann, now operate Tango from a bricks-and-mortar premises on the Muckross Road, heading out to the lakes.
An anonymous high-ceilinged modern retail space, an inverted ‘L’, has been transformed on a budget into a bustling, lively room. Embracing the large concrete-floored hall as a blank canvas, open-plan room dividers add coherency to the flow, and simple decorative touches are casually deployed. The result is vibrant yet relaxed and unfussy; even fake houseplants have a cheerful charm. However, the ‘fire’ sources bookending either end signify infinitely more serious culinary intentions.
Near the front door, a side room can barely contain an enormous custom-built 1.5 tonne Neapolitan wood-fired pizza oven, a hulking ceramic ‘droid’ near tipping the ceiling. At the other end of the restaurant, boxed in behind an open-plan counter, is a show-stopping parrilla, a traditional Argentinian black cast-iron wood-fired grill. Radiating intense heat, it is like a smouldering steampunk portal to the heart of a volcano.
In the centre of the room is a serving counter where a bright display case hosts their range of very appealing house empanadas, the third leg of Tango’s Argentinian culinary stool. We share a single empanada (€5), their Blas na hÉireann award-winning traditional pastry stuffed with beef, vegetables, and Argentine spices. ‘Vegetables’, other than onion, are actually ‘fruit’ — tomatoes and pitted green olives — but in a distinct minority to succulent, tender minced beef, wearing an easy chilli warmth and an earthy cumin hum, all housed in savoury buttery pastry that gently crumbles under tooth.
Utterly delicious, a refreshing tomato salsa alongside is a perfectly contrasting partner — on another day, we’d roam further through the empanada menu (including pulled pork, chicken, lamb, Clonakilty black pudding, and wild mushrooms) but it’s pizza time.
To truly assess the quality of a pizza offering, I always order a margarita or a pepperoni (€16.50). All the wild combo toppings in the world will never cover up a poor pizza: If the aforementioned traditional classics are well delivered, you know you’re in the hands of a serious operator.
The behemoth of an oven hits temperatures in excess of 450C, meaning it takes no more than a minute to turn good raw dough into a bubbled, black-blistered crust with a winning, crispy chew. Mild and molten fior di latte mozzarella and a tangy sweet tomato sauce know their roles, supporting players to a spicy, meaty Italian pepperoni of real quality. It is a superb pizza, one of the best I’ve ever had in Ireland — and that is a real compliment in a country where standards have soared over the last decade.
I also order an in-house creation, La Abuela (‘the granny’; €18), that same splendid base topped with tomato sauce, stracciatella, mortadella, and pistachio, being especially partial to any and all of the latter three. However, they are like those close friends who are always lovely company on their own but somehow underwhelm when coming together as a group. Here, the restrained flavours simply don’t have the muscle to compete, almost bland in comparison to the chewy flavoursome base and sweetly acidic sauce.
No matter, we are about to hit the main course, Asado (short ribs; €27), from the parrilla. The meat on slow-cooked short-ribs has surrendered entirely, resistance futile as tender, lush beef slides down chalky bare bones. It tastes even better, a savoury-sweet umami, draped in a smoky mantle from its finishing stint on the parrilla. We drench the ribs in the garlicky, green chimichurri, ordering more again. Sautéed peppers and onions are vinegar-tart, sharpening the palate. Floury potato wedges and green salad complete the dish, though we are almost entirely focused on the heavenly flesh.
Albóndigas (€18) are meatballs of that same fine Irish beef. However, the minced meat is too densely packed; while flavours are sound, textures are relentless. Two overly-thick slices of average bread are dried through rather than merely toasted on the outside to retain moisture and softness within. They make for poor tools with which to dredge up a thick, chunky pomodoro sauce. A pleasant if uninspiring house Malbec (€34) has to work overtime to wash it down.
To finish, we share a superb Alfajor de Maicena (€4.50), the hugely-popular Argentinian street-food sweet treat. As seems to be the way with South American desserts, there can never be too much sugar, in this case, a sweet, sweet, sweet dulce de leche.
The only downside of our evening is that we have to drive all the way back to Cork on a Saturday night that only seems to be getting started in this lively little Argentinian enclave in Killarney. It is one of the best hospitality offerings in the Kingdom and, yes, we are deeply smitten — this will most definitely not be our ‘Last Tango’ in Killarney.
