May 2025: Buenos Aires, Argentina

Having first visited Don Julio in 2019, our curiosity was sparked again by its recent rise in international culinary rankings. Fundamentally, Don Julio remains a steakhouse—a superb one, no doubt—but its high placement in the 50 Best Restaurants list appeared rather puzzling. This isn’t a critique to casual formats—after all, restaurants like L’Astrance (ranked 11th in 2009), Le Chateaubriand (9th in 2011), and Septime have all earned their place with more laid-back service styles. 

The difference lies in complexity and technique. Those places deliver more intricate and technically sophisticated experiences. Even the list’s other grill temples—Elkano and Etxebarri—offer more than fire and protein. They use the grill as a foundation, pairing it with refined sauces, clever contrasts, and technique far beyond straightforward grilling. In principle, Don Julio would be better placed atop a specialised ranking dedicated solely to steakhouses—a position it already, quite deservedly, occupies.

Below, our analysis of Don Julio is presented with the same thoroughness and attention to detail as for any haute cuisine restaurant. Readers pressed for time may jump directly to our detailed meal review and conclusions, which are conveniently linked in the table of contents.

The origins and development of Don Julio

Pablo Rivero’s journey began on his father’s cattle ranch in Rosario, Santa Fe. But when the ranch went under in the mid-1990s, his parents packed up and moved to Buenos Aires, seeking a fresh start. His father found work as a meteorologist, and a family friend, Julio Cogorno, offered them a room above a struggling restaurant in Palermo.

The Rivero family saw promise in the worn-down eatery. With his parents’ blessing, he took it over in 1998, renamed it Don Julio in tribute to their benefactor, and set out to transform it into a true parrilla. Pablo greeted and served diners, his mother ran the till, and his grandmother handled the side dishes.

From the outset, Rivero and his father challenged the prevailing trend of “ternerita” (veal from very young calves). Instead, they insisted on hearty, grass-fed steers—novillo pesado—believing mature beef offered far richer flavour. Pablo even enrolled briefly in culinary school to sharpen his skills, only to realise that his real passion lay in the dining room—where he could connect with guests. He passed the tongs to José “Pepe” Sotelo, Don Julio’s long-serving parrillero (who had also worked at the previous restaurant on the site), and focused on front-of-house hospitality. In 2004, Rivero started to take some sommelier courses at the Escuela Argentina de Vino. Slowly, his wine list grew to around 160 labels by 2012.

As Palermo evolved—from its gritty roots to a hub of galleries, boutiques and cafés—Don Julio remained unpretentious, beloved by long-time locals and new visitors alike. By 2010 it featured in Lonely Planet and national newspapers; international spotlight followed a 2008 mention in Le Point, then The Sunday Times in 2012. But it was in 2014 that praise in The Guardian, naming it among Argentina’s top ten restaurants, ignited interest from the UK and US.

When Latin America’s 50 Best Restaurants debuted in 2013, Don Julio didn’t take long to catch the judges’ eye. It first appeared in 2015 at number 45 and surged into the top 25 the very next year, landing at 21. By 2018 it had broken into the top 10 and was honoured with the Art of Hospitality Award for Rivero’s thoughtful approach to service. In 2019, Rivero unveiled his second project, El Preferido de Palermo—a lovingly restored 1950s-style bodegón serving porteño classics such as milanesas—which itself earned a place on the Latin America’s 50 Best list by 2023.

Don Julio claimed the number one position in the Latin America rankings in 2020—becoming the first restaurant in Argentina ever to do so. The year before, it had already entered the global 50 Best Restaurants list at number 34, and by 2024 it climbed impressively into the global top 10, simultaneously reclaiming its top spot in Latin America. Alongside the restaurant’s rise, Rivero’s own talents were recognised too: he was named Latin America’s Best Sommelier in 2022 and went on to win the analogous world title in 2024. When the Michelin Guide made its long-awaited debut in Buenos Aires in 2023, Don Julio picked up both a Michelin star and a green star for its sustainable practices introduced after the pandemic.

The space

Housed in an 1873 two-storey conventillo on one of Palermo’s distinctive chamfered corners, Don Julio immediately feels spacious and well-considered. Wide tables sit with ample clearance, accommodating around 85 diners across two dining rooms and an outdoor terrace on the pavement.

Originally a full second floor, the upper level was removed to create a taller, more dramatic main room. This open plan draws the eye straight to the central, open-fire grill, while the prep kitchen remains discreetly tucked away. Although in 2019 guests could still perch at the counter facing the grill, this feature has since been discontinued.

Inside, the décor nods to a timeless parrilla without ever feeling overdone. Pale limestone tiles underfoot meet exposed brick walls and soaring ceilings, creating a retro-inspired setting that’s both unpretentious and refined. Here, you won’t find the heavy embellishments common in other classic steakhouses—just a clear, unfussy space that puts the focus squarely on what really matters.

The concept: a traditional parrilla

This is not an haute cuisine restaurant—it’s a faithful parrilla, or classic Argentinian steakhouse. According to La Nación, in the early 2000s, Pablo Rivero borrowed a few ideas from Emilio Garip’s Oviedo and Ada Cóncaro’s Tomo I cuisine, yet the concept never strayed from that of a traditional parrilla. The à la carte menu makes this clear. You’ll find shareable starters—think charcuterie, provoleta, chorizo and a selection of grilled offal—followed by prime cuts of beef served with a choice of sides such as seasonal chargrilled vegetables, chips, potato mash or salads. To round things off, there are comforting desserts such as flan with dulce de leche and cream, or panqueques de dulce de leche. Still, for a parrilla, Don Julio does complement this with unique touches, such as an extensive Argentine wine list and great service.

Earning a Michelin star does call for a few extras—you’ll be greeted with a mini-empanada as an amuse-bouche, enjoy a better bread service than in most parrillas and finish with mignardises (a bite-sized havannet). Similarly necessary for the famous guide and other rankings, there are three tasting menus: a vegetarian-only option (four courses, around ARS 60,000¹), a short menu (four courses—charcuterie, offal, a beef cut and dessert—for about ARS 150,000) and a long version (six courses, adding an extra starter and extra beef cut, for roughly ARS 220,000). Optional wine pairings are available with the shorter menu for ARS 145,000 or the longer one for ARS 180,000.

The cuisine

Again, Don Julio remains a classic parrilla, but one where every cut of meat arrives cooked precisely as requested—even after the 2020 retirement of Pepe Sotelo, who spent two decades at the grill here. Now the cuisine is under the steady hand of executive chef Guido Tassi, ex-chef de cuisine of Restó, where Sébastien Bras worked for a while in 1997.

True to Argentine tradition, the grilling is done with wood-fire. The primary cooking apparatus is the classic parrilla: an iron-grid grill over wood coals that can be raised or lowered to control heat. On an Argentinian parrilla there are two main types of iron rods: V-shaped rods and round rods. The V-shaped rods allow fats to drain away into a drip tray, and reduce flare-ups which, to the Argentinian mindset, can spoil or obscure the meat’s flavour. Round rods, by contrast, permit more smoke and let fats fall straight onto the coals, causing burnt particles to stick to the meat. At Don Julio, most prime cuts rest on V-shaped rods, whereas offal and chorizo sizzle on round ones.

Each morning, the team kindles a bed of quebracho blanco—an Argentine hardwood prized for its long-lasting, fragrant embers. The parrilleros tend the coals meticulously, sliding them beneath the grill to deliver just the right heat. Thick cuts like bife de chorizo (sirloin strip) or ojo de bife (ribeye) might start further from the flame to warm through, then finish closer to sear and char; thinner cuts like entraña (skirt steak) hit a hotter part of the grill to develop a crust quickly without overcooking inside. There’s no timer or thermostat—just the parrillero’s keen eye and a steel probe testing the meat’s “punto” (doneness level). If you’re unsure, they’ll often suggest ordering your steak “bien jugoso,” a juicier doneness than the one preferred by most locals.

Beyond the grill’s centrepiece cuts, cooking is kept simple: steaks are served exactly as they are, without sauces or embellishments, just as you’d expect at any true parrilla. To find more of the cuisine in Don Julio, one must turn to the starters and side dishes. Seasonal vegetables are kissed by flame and smoke on the grill, then combined with modest sauces and a few thoughtful touches to add depth without overcomplication. The house-made charcuterie also stands out: including morcilla (black pudding) and chorizo in the classic Argentine style – half beef, half pork. And when it comes to desserts, everything remains straightforward: flan, panqueques and ice cream.

The produce — sourcing, livestock management and dry-ageing

The heart of any great steakhouse lies in its produce. In La Nación, Pablo Rivero also identifies depth of flavour and marbling as the two non-negotiables of quality beef. Both these traits develop optimally in animals that mature fully through extended, grass-fed upbringing. Breaking away from late 20th-century trends favouring younger, leaner cattle, Don Julio deliberately selects older, heavier animals, primarily Aberdeen Angus and Hereford breeds, exclusively grass-fed until reaching about 3–4 years of age and weighing approximately 500 kg. Rivero argues convincingly that cattle of this age attain the perfect balance of marbling, flavour intensity, and tenderness, as their skeletal structure matures at around one year, while muscular and organ development peak at three years. Beyond this age, although flavour deepens further, tenderness diminishes, making 3 to 4 years of age the perfect balance for them. This approach, which Don Julio claims it reintroduced in the 2000s, resurrected the lost flavors of Argentine beef. Customers who grew up in the 1980s often remark that Don Julio’s steak tastes like it did back in the day – a rich, beefy intensity that had become rare. Rivero’s stance is that the earlier fad for ultra-young terneritos (young veal) was driven by economic convenience (faster turnover for farmers) rather than gastronomic merit.

To ensure quality and consistency, Don Julio has forged direct ties with regenerative farmers over the years and, in 2023, launched Comarca Productiva, its own 230-hectare estate in the Argentine pampas, northeast of Buenos Aires. Today, almost every ingredient on the menu can be traced back to this farm or a small circle of carefully vetted suppliers. Comarca Productiva follows André Voisin’s Rational Intensive Grazing method, keeping roughly two steers per hectare—about 400 animals in all. Alongside the cattle, four hectares are devoted to organic vegetables, so side dishes and salads evolve with the seasons rather than playing second fiddle to the meats.

Controlling the supply chain ensures that the whole enterprise is an artisanal production and can prevent waste. Rivero believes in honouring the entire animal, so the menu makes use of virtually every part of the cow in some way. Starters include homemade morcilla (blood sausage) and grilled chinchulines (intestines), sweetbreads and house-cured charcuterie made from prime beef trim and heritage Duroc pork.

To make it all happen, there’s a dedicated butchery 50m from the restaurant where every cut is prepared and dry-aged in-house. Dry-ageing, the practice of resting beef for weeks in a carefully controlled temperature and humidity, was once unheard of in traditional parrillas. Before vacuum-packing arrived in the 1970s, meat was simply stored in cold, dry chambers; but the art of timing those rest periods to coax out the ideal texture and flavour only reached Buenos Aires in the mid-2010s, having first gained popularity in the northern hemisphere. Don Julio now embraces this method to concentrate flavour and tenderise cuts. For thicker boneless steaks they dry-age for 28 days, 15 days for entraña, 20 for vacío and rump steak, 12 for tira de asado and 20 days for bone-in steaks like T-Bone and Tomahawk (or “entrecot,” as they call it here).

The cellar

Don Julio probably has one of the best wine lists in Argentina, with a strong emphasis on homegrown labels. Their cellar holds over 15,000 bottles across more than 1,000 labels, featuring not only Mendoza classics but also selections from Patagonia, San Juan and Salta. You’ll find a thoughtful range of well-aged bottles, too.

There’s a clear balance between long-standing names such as Catena, Rutini, Trapiche, Mendel, Viña Cobos and Zuccardi; traditional houses like Weinert and López; and newer ventures from producers such as Durigutti, Riccitelli, Michelini and Sejanovich.

By the glass, the offer is equally commendable: around twenty carefully chosen labels, each presented in a 150 ml measure. Yet the prices here jar; not one by-the-glass wine slips below USD 20, and many cluster north of USD 40.

Bottles carry mark-ups of roughly three times what you’d pay at retail, a level more familiar to drinkers in European capitals or the United States. This is the odd reality of Argentina’s fine wines: abroad they fetch less than here. Don Julio’s steep prices amplify the issue to the point where you could, for the same expenditure, secure some of the world’s most coveted bottles. It’s not a slight on Argentine winemaking—its quality remains beyond reproach—but the pricing smacks of disconnection, a disparity that’s hard to swallow.

The service and the ambiance

The service at Don Julio mirrors that of a fine-dining establishment more than of a steakhouse. Outside, on the pavement in front of the entrance, you are greeted with a glass of Chandon Extra Brut courtesy of the house. Precisely ten minutes after the restaurant’s excessively early opening time of 11:30, a battalion of waiters appears in unison, each bearing menus to shepherd the gathered guests to their tables in a synchronised ballet. It’s a confident opening statement.

Once seated, each table benefits from several attendants, including dedicated sommeliers, all adopting a measured, formally respectful tone. Much of the tableside ritual revolves around portioning the meats for each diner. Tables are dressed with linen cloths, and many boast a marble guéridon to hold bottles, sauces and accompaniments, leaving the eating surface uncluttered. Glassware from Zalto, Riedel and Spiegelau catches the dim light of the room, while the hefty steak knives, with their rustic wooden handles, salute the parrilla’s humble origins and echo the interior’s subtle rustic charm. Unadorned wooden bowls offer salts, sauces and garnishes with simple elegance, and the sturdy white plates echo the straightforward, hearty aesthetic of classic parrilla fare.

The clientele is predominantly American and likely unfamiliar with the local gastronomy. They often gravitate towards their familiar steak cuts—a pity when you could be savouring something like tira de asado, found nowhere else. It’s perfectly reasonable to measure Argentine beef against home-country benchmarks by choosing known cuts, yet at this exceptional level, discerning differences of provenance or breed from a single portion is virtually impossible. Only a direct side-by-side tasting can provide truly objective insight.

A meal à la carte

From the instant we took our seats, the front-of-house team appeared slightly overwhelmed, casting our meal into a whirlwind of offerings. The pace was undeniably swift—perhaps excessively so—creating a persistent sense of haste rather than smooth choreography. Immediately came the offering of menus, rapid-fire questions about drinks, dietary restrictions, an impromptu tour of the cellar and appetisers arriving almost before you’ve unclasped your napkin.

The miniature beef empanada arrived pleasantly warm, though my chance to appreciate it was abruptly curtailed by the cellar tour. Its crisp, fried pastry had an appealing snap—think a sturdier filo pastry rather than the traditional dough—and encased a finely hand-chopped beef filling seasoned with commendable precision. No single spice dominated; instead, they combined into a cohesive, well-focused flavour.

Next came a warm loaf of lean bread, its lightly bronzed crust yielded just enough resistance to unveil a soft, tight crumb—a refreshing contrast to the overly dry, mass-produced loaves so common in many restaurants in Argentina. Rather than butter, we were given a concentrated pumpkin purée, its natural sweetness lifted by what tasted like coriander and a hint of ginger powder, with a scattering of chilli flakes to nick the palate with gentle heat.

Accompaniments arrived in three wooden bowls: flaky sea salt, salsa criolla and chimichurri. The criolla’s bright acidity sliced through the meat’s richness, with raw onion providing crunch and pungency. The chimichurri was textbook, with a dominance of dried herbs—mostly dried oregano of high quality, a measured chilli hit and a mild vinegar tang—that married beautifully with the beef.

Ordered “jugosa,” (medium-rare) the molleja de corazón (sweetbreads) arrived on a tray before being portioned. The thin and ethereal crust was a model of delicate crispness, giving way effortlessly to a meltingly tender, fondant-like interior. The careful grilling technique imparted subtle yet precise charcoal notes, accentuating rather than overpowering the sweetbreads’ inherently gentle flavour. The taste was exceptionally clean, reminiscent of the delicate richness one finds in lamb brains.

Their two-stage cooking process was evident: first, a long stint over gentle heat at the uppermost level of the grill to yield that creaminess, followed by a quick sear over fierce embers to achieve that coveted crispness. It is no exaggeration to assert these sweetbreads rank among the very best I’ve tasted—a sentiment first formed during my visit in 2019, and reassuringly confirmed today. Such consistency is rare and commendable.

A few wedges of lemon arrive alongside—a necessary counterbalance, since there’s no other garnish to lift the richness. A bias cut might make juice-squeezing neater, avoiding the odd unexpected splatter.

Although I opted for the smaller portion, it still proved generous. The reduction in price from 99,000 to 79,000 pesos was certainly welcome, although even then, I struggled to finish. As the sweetbreads cooled, their silky texture inevitably firmed, developing a slightly pasty quality dotted with natural granular elements—especially in the thicker sections where there is less crispiness to balance the texture. Consequently, I deliberately avoided finishing the denser end slices, saving precious appetite for the strip of asado yet to arrive.

The half portion of tira de asado here is so generously sized, it could pass for a full cut. Ordered rare, it arrived as exactly as requested and perfectly seasoned. Yet, one might consider opting for medium-rare next time. This particular cut, inherently slightly firmer, benefits from that extra moment on the grill, allowing the fat to render fully which compensates for any loss in juiciness. Even so, since the dry-ageing softens the meat somewhat, there is a solid case for sticking with rare if you prefer that deep-red centre. The interior glows crimson like in a Basque txuleta, while the exterior is beautifully caramelised. Thankfully, the traditional Argentine grill cross-hatching has been set aside here, favouring a more uniform Maillard reaction across the surface. Still, the crust does not quite achieve the level of Maillard intensity that you find at Basque asadores.

In classic Argentine parrillas, beef flavours stay gentle and transparent, letting grass-fed purity take centre stage. Don Julio, however, embraces extended dry-ageing—a technique now favoured across Europe and the US—to tenderise and concentrate those flavours into something undeniably more umami-rich. This is particularly noticeable in the seams of intermuscular fat, which acquire a heightened umami depth, greater complexity, and a melt-in-the-mouth texture.

The short rib here, cut “banderita”-style, carries little intermuscular fat but plenty of marbling; yet the aromas of ageing are unmistakable. The embers here work by gentle radiation rather than direct contact with the flame sought by Basque asadores, yielding an aroma that’s exceptionally delicate and clean.

We could have gone for something lighter, like a salad, but the grilled vegetables drew our attention. Among the selection—pumpkin, sweet potato, Brussels sprouts and spinach—it was the grilled avocado, palta a la parrilla, that stood out. It’s a trend that’s been gaining traction over the past eight years, though its origins remain unclear. Don Julio has had it on the menu for around a year. Meanwhile, Dani García has certainly helped push it into the spotlight via social media. Here, the avocado is lightly charred, the grill marks adding some visual interest as well as flavour. The brief exposure to heat softens the fatty flesh and enhances the creaminess, though the core maintains more of its raw texture. The cavity left by the pith holds olive oil, and a citric avocado purée at the base cuts through the richness.

Continuing with the parrilla classics, we opted for the flan mixto (crème caramel with dulce de leche and cream). In Argentina, flan is typically cooked at higher temperatures, resulting in a firm, slightly elastic texture studded with bubbles. Eschewing or unaware of the Spanish trend for silky custards, Don Julio’s version remains firm, with only a subtle springiness and a well-balanced egg-to-milk ratio. The bubbles are confined to the surface, which hints at a gentler heat, a more careful use of a bain-marie or a shorter cooking time.

The dulce de leche here was the best we tasted on this trip. It retains the dense consistency you expect in a flan mixto but is enlivened by a more pronounced vanilla note. The accompanying cream, thick with a fat content reminiscent of clotted cream, delivered a pleasing flavour close to our beloved Beillevaire and, curiously, bore a bronze tint.

At last, the meal concludes with a homemade mini-havannet — a sablé base supporting a slender, crisp cone of dulce de leche coated in chocolate.

Conclusions

We must begin by acknowledging one clear fact: Don Julio does not serve haute cuisine. Yet, within its chosen domain as a steakhouse, it strives for—and largely achieves—excellence on nearly every front.

The quality of beef served here is undoubtedly superb. While directly ranking meats without a side-by-side tasting is inherently challenging, Don Julio’s offerings certainly rival, and may even surpass, some of the examples from America and Europe.

All the prime cuts are dry-aged, nudging the flavour profile towards a more international style. The cuissons are perfectly mastered and the soft nuance of the quebracho blanco charcoal is clean and delicate. Yet, beyond the beef, the cuisine retreats into unapologetic simplicity—straightforward sides that work, but scarcely surprise.

The service matches the food in calibre: knowledgeable, attentive and just formal enough, it outshines that of many so-called fine-dining restaurants.

Wine, meanwhile, forms the third pillar of Don Julio’s identity. If budget is not a concern, this is one of the best cellars to explore Argentina’s increasingly impressive and diverse viticulture. Be warned, though: local demand has driven retail prices here higher than those abroad for the exact same labels. It’s an odd quirk of the market, amplified by Don Julio’s own mark-ups.

Price, indeed, demands closer scrutiny. Back in 2008, Don Julio’s premium beef cuts were priced around $16 USD, rising to approximately $35 USD by 2019. Post-pandemic, however, prices have doubled. Even accounting for a reduction in covers—from 150 down to 85 since the pandemic—the most expensive cut in 2022, vacío, which was around $60 USD, has risen to an astonishing $87 USD in 2025, with the title currently held by the tenderloin steak (bife de lomo). Meanwhile, the cheapest steak, a strip steak (bife de chorizo angosto), now costs $62 USD. Even the sweetbreads—arguably the best we have ever tasted anywhere—have jumped dramatically, from $18 USD during a 2019 visit to an eye-watering $87 USD today.

The restaurant may justify this surge by pointing to substantial investments in its farms and cattle operations, employing around 150 people across their businesses. Yet, it is undeniable that this pricing strategy has effectively alienated the local customer base—the very patrons who established Don Julio’s early success. Today, it is predominantly tourists from affluent countries who frequent the tables, diminishing the authenticity of the dining experience.

Contrast this with world-renowned pizzerias like I Masanielli, Diego Vitagliano or Lucali, where meals remain accessible and affordable to the originally intended local audiences, cutting across diverse economic classes. This same spirit can be felt while queuing for brisket at Franklin Barbecue or Snow’s BBQ in Texas, or when seated in the dining rooms of Keens or Peter Luger in New York City. Ideally, like these examples, an Argentine parrilla should similarly remain within reach of Argentina’s middle class, for whom asado is more than cuisine—it is a cherished cultural tradition. Indeed, a comparable meal at competitor La Brigada is likely to cost half as much, without compromising ingredient quality.

Lastly, we remain baffled by the opaque mechanics behind international culinary rankings. How a steakhouse vaults into a hierarchy conceived for haute cuisine remains as mystifying after our visit as before. The fairly loose and unregulated voting processes leave us unable to offer a rigorous, evidence-based explanation; speculation in print would be irresponsible. Yet, we have absolutely no difficulty understanding why Don Julio comfortably tops the World’s 101 Best Steak Restaurants list since 2023.

Footnotes

1. All figures are quoted in Argentine pesos (ARS) as at May 2025. Using the mid-market rate on May 2025 of ARS 1 156 = US$ 1 (i.e. ARS 1 = US$ 0.000864) , the amounts translate to approximately US$ 51.84 (ARS 60 000), US$ 129.60 (ARS 150 000) and US$ 190.08 (ARS 220 000) for the three tasting menus, with optional wine pairings costing about US$ 125.28 (ARS 145 000) or US$ 155.52 (ARS 180 000). All US dollar equivalents are rounded to the nearest cent.