Every month, the #ladiesofKublai (our cute/cheesy name for the female population of our cult) plans a girls night. Usually they involve a lot of wine and cheese talking about making out, and are generally some of my favorite nights, because, wine. But since pretty much every event in Buenos Aires involves wine and talking about making out (or, ideally, actually making out), this month we decided to do something extra special.
My magical unicorn of a friend found this old-school mansion where a group of ex-pats from all over the world live and host parties, and she arranged for us to rent it out for a night of wine/cheese/makeout talk in an extra fancy location.
“What is this place?” we all wondered out loud after we pounded the door with one of those enormous lions’ head knockers straight out of the 1800’s.
Walking in felt like we were on Episode 1 of a new season of The Bachelor. We were led through the house mansion by a hottie Australian guy (let’s call him “sexy Chris Harrison”), and down an ivy-covered spiral staircase into the candle lit backyard where we met our
suitor chef Ben. He was also a hottie Australian guy, for the record. I had a lot of wine, so my pictures came out terribly. Here are some from Instagram so you can have some idea of what we were dealing with:
Got it? Cool.
Ben greeted us all with glasses of champagne, and laid out the plan for the evening: We would start with an empanada making contest, followed by a tour of the house, followed by a typical Argentine #meatparade (of the man and food varieties).
And, per usual, the wine was flowing – two full bottles per person, to be exact.
After we were all tipsy enough to get catty and competitive (… like the contestants on the actual Bachelor would be) it was time to make some empanadas. There was a table covered in every kind of ingredient you could imagine — meats, cheeses, veggies, eggs — and we were each given two circles of dough and told to “get creative” because “there would be a prize” (a date with Ben in the Fantasy Suite?!). I was too tired to be creative, so I mostly just spent the time eating the ingredients and narrating videos for my Insta feed. One of my friends made a meat stuffed penis, complete with two cheesy balls (“IT’S A DICK!” she scoffed when sexy Chris Harrison inquired), and another made the lady parts so we had a full matching set. They didn’t win, but I personally think they should have. Mine looked and tasted disgusting, but I like to think that if it were competitive empanada eating instead of making I 100% would have won.
Next we took a tour of the house, which was an old mansion that had been repurposed for private events. There were all kinds of hidden rooms and secret doors, and I felt like I was walking around in a game of Clue, but with alcohol instead of a revolver. We wandered around
while the band of hotties served us empanadas (which were much, much more appetizing than the ones we made) and posed for pictures in the movie theater/on the spiral staircase/on some random desk. There were a bunch of rando copies of Argentine Playboy hanging around,
Then we went back downstairs for a jazz performance, which somehow ended in all of us serenading each other to “Killing Me Softly” like we were in some sort of Disney movie where the characters randomly burst into song. It was super weird, but also pretty heartwarming.
Finally, it was time for the #meatparade. Our hotties had been grilling the meats Asado-style on an open fire since we got there, and we were presented with the most insane display of skewers and sauces I have ever seen. We stuffed our faces with piles and piles and piles of beef and chicken (#tbt to when I was a vegan lolol) with literally 15 different kinds of dip. It was as if we’d died and gone to dip heaven. Then, they served up some sort of bread pudding that was so good it was borderline sexual.
All in all, great ladies night. Fell asleep in the Uber on the way back, and had sweet, meat-fueled dreams. I’m actually still dreaming about that bread pudding, TBH.
BUT THEN, the next morning, when one of my friends went to post her pictures to the ‘gram, we finally discovered what this magical house actually was (spoiler alert, naked girl ahead):
IT’S A PLAYBOY SET, YOU GUYS!!! And this girl — whoever she is — is freaking amazing. Not gonna lie, I’m pretty offended that they didn’t ask us to model. And a little concerned that there was a naked woman rolling around on our meat counter. But also feel a little better about the fact that none of us ended up with Bachelor Ben at the end of the night, since his standards are probably “supermodel or bust.” Still, though, at least the empanadas were good.