When in Buenos Aires, open your eyes and bellies to the craze that keeps evolving – underground supper clubs. Last week I dined with an ousted cult from Alabama, a brain surgeon on sabbatical and an ex-prostitute from Amsterdam, complete with mini-me poodle (still a poodle). Welcome to the puerta cerrada closed-door dining experience. Fixed menus, themed nights and paired wines, all hosted in someone’s house. It sounds very bourgeois bohemian, doesn’t it? That’s because it is.