Argentina's 'Kansas' Is No Place Like Home

It's 8 PM on a Tuesday, I'm heading into Kansas for an early dinner, and it's a scene. I walk past a caravan of fancy cars holding up traffic while attempting to enter the parking lot and push through a mosh pit of fake tits and tan skin until I reach the hostess stand. "That will be two hours," the hostess says and hands me a pager, something I've never seen before in this country. The crowd is dressed up for a night out: the women are wearing tight dresses and platform heels, and their dates are in long-sleeve crisp button downs. There's a general excitement in the air, which is totally bizarre considering where I am. In most US cities, Kansas would be a classier step up from an Applebee's, but in Buenos Aires, it's the place to be.

Kansas Bar & Grill serves "American cuisine," and is busy every day for lunch and dinner. It first opened in 1999, has three locations, and is one of the highest-grossing culinary establishments in Argentina. There's nothing about Kansas that resembles the US heartland. There's no reference to the Great Plains, rolling fields, or even some kitschy Wizard of Oz motifs. Kansas follows the North American upscale-casual chain dining model, and is actually a replica of Houston's and Hillstone restaurants, mimicking the design, décor, and menu items.

Out of all America's great culinary destinations, Kansas might not be the first place that comes to mind, but David Baldwin, its director of operations and a Wisconsin native, had an explanation. "We chose the name Kansas because it was in the very middle of the country—the heart," he said. "It was also a name that Argentines would be able to easily pronounce."

When I finally settle into the leather booth, a server immediately drops off a menu, another promptly comes to take the drink order, and a third returns minutes later with the drinks. The 350-cover restaurant is swarming with staff—I've never experienced this style of attention in Argentina, a country where most in the service industry act as if they are doing you the favor. The menu reads like that of any family grill, offering a variety of dishes for every taste. Hmm… I'm feeling the Tennessee Chicken, Houston's Barbecue Ribs, and Arizona Pasta—the latter mostly because I'm intrigued what "spices from Arizona" might be.

The food comes quickly and the portions are plus-size. The Tennessee Chicken consists of a chicken breast coated in a light ketchup-y barbecue sauce, warm lunchmeat ham, and a slice of deli cheese semi-melted on top—not quite Nashville on a plate. The Arizona Pasta is drenched in a creamy Alfredo-like sauce with slices of red pepper, grilled chicken, and from what I can tell, paprika and chopped cilantro, because nothing gives the essence of the Southwest like that spice and herb. The famous barbecue ribs are clearly the star of the night, a dish that could pack in both homesick expats for a bit of barbecue nostalgia and adventurous porteños who want to broaden their grilled meat horizons.

To many locals, Kansas is the quintessential American restaurant, but not just because of the food. Ezequiel Grinberg, an eight-year loyal Kansas customer, says he goes for whole experience. "Kansas emulates American style," he tells me. "It gives people the feeling that they can travel outside of Argentina to the USA, if only for a few hours." In addition to big portions, consistent food, reasonable prices, and fast service, that's exactly what (middle to upper-class) Argentines look for when choosing a restaurant, Grinberg explains.

But Kansas isn't a lone phenomenon; it's just one example of 16 Buenos Aires restaurants named after various states and cities in the United States. Kentucky, Alabama, Indiana, Arizona, Montana, Rhode Island, Tucson, Vegas, Santa Fe, Atlanta, NOLA, NYC, Nicky New York, New York New York, and Brooklyn—these are all different restaurants, most of which serve food that have nothing to do with their namesake origins. Instead, many offer "American specialties" that typically include burgers, ribs, Caesar salads, potato wedges, and onion rings—or randomly name regular dishes after places in the US, as if that is enough proof of authenticity.

Tucson Restaurant (pronounced "Took-sone") calls itself the "typical American steakhouse," and is a copy of a copy, with its design and menu extremely similar to Kansas. And that makes sense, since one of the chefs who worked at Kansas secretly brought over many of the recipes. On the menu? Dishes like "Phoenix Chips," "potato wedges covered in bacon, processed cheese and Ranch sauce," "Virginia Style Spinach" (a.k.a. creamy spinach dip), and "Anchorage Fresh Fillet Salmon," which comes frozen from Chile and is not flown in fresh from Alaska.

"In Argentina, using words in English is fashionable," says Bernabela Sugasti, who runs Gastronomique Comunicación, a prominent culinary PR firm in Buenos Aires. "A lot of people think that dishes sound better in English than in Spanish. And restaurant owners have a lack of imagination when naming restaurants."

At NYC Bar & Bistro, you can order "Brooklyn Fries" with cheese, or "San Antonio Fries" sautéed with peppers and a fried egg on the side of your "burgercake." (Americans love burgers and cakes, so why not, right?) Instead of naming its dishes after places in the US, Alabama—a Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. imitation—pays tribute to the movie Forrest Gump and christened its burgers after celebrities (except for the "Miami Chicken"): Clarck [sic] Gable, Barry White, Doris Day, Big Elvis, and Jerry Lee Lewis. The walls are covered in 1950s Americana and Forrest Gump movie memorabilia, with the odd Tom Hanks collectable thrown in the mix (like Wilson the volleyball from Castaway). "A certain [portion of the] Argentine public eats this up, no matter if the food is good or not," Sugasti tells me. "Many people think they are trying a little piece of USA, and probably don't know, or don't care, if it's authentic."

But not all of the US-inspired restaurants get it wrong. At NOLA, crowds pour onto the sidewalk, one hand on a beer, and the other clutching a fried chicken drumstick. New Orleans native Liza Puglia came to Buenos Aires after culinary school in New York to give the porteño palate a genuine taste of Cajun and Creole cooking, introducing dishes like gumbo, red beans and rice, and fried chicken. Nicky New York wants its customers to feel transported to The Big Apple, as if they are in a "cool, Manhattan restaurant." This sleek spot focuses on Peruvian fusion sushi and cocktails, but is mostly known for the award-winning Prohibition-era speakeasy hidden behind the restaurant.

The case of Kentucky is a bit different. It is one of Buenos Aires' most emblematic pizzerias, despite the "Yankee" name. The first owners loved horse racing, especially the Kentucky Derby, and named the pizzeria as such, given its close proximity to the Buenos Aires racetrack. The pizza joint first started serving Argentine-style thick crust in 1942, and has grown to nearly 30 locations, with 60 more projected to open by 2019, all strategically placed in areas with a high volume of foot traffic, and many of them open 24 hours a day. When Kentucky first opened, it had a racehorse as the logo, but today the mascot is Tucky (pronounced "Tooky"), a slice of upside-down cheese pizza with googly eyes and a goofy open mouth smile.

Back at Kansas, the restaurant is still bumping and I'm on the last course: a dry piece of cake-like brownie, loaded with a top layer of nuts, a big scoop of vanilla ice cream, dulce de leche sauce and two browned banana slices. This dessert isn't named after anywhere in the USA, but probably even more fittingly, it's called "Going Bananas."