Agustín graduates and buys a two-group Rilo Rina espresso machine, spurred by the specialty coffee boom. There is still no place. There is still no name.
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Nuestra historia
Beside Route 3, at the foot of Mount Olivia, there is a peat bog. We didn't choose it: it was there long before us, ever since the ancestors of the Prada family raised their cabin on the soft ground. We went to it the way you go toward the things that are waiting for you. We came back as teenagers, and maybe we had been coming back long before that without knowing it.
The bog was refuge and it was joy. Among the peat there were asados, songs, plunges into cold water, the kind of leisure that leaves no record except in those who lived it. The food was good. The drink was good. It was good to be there. Over the years we understood that this place was the name the café did not yet have.
He partners with someone who had a place. The bond doesn't hold. The partnership dissolves before opening. Some of his things stay inside, and inside they stay.
Federico, architect and friend, joins the project. They begin to imagine the café again.
They look for a place. None appears. The few on the main street aren't meant for two partners under thirty. The answers are almost always the same answer. The years pass.
A place appears, first-hand. Jonathan and Juan Manuel, with business experience in Ushuaia, come on board as partners. For the first time, there is a where.
The space is designed in two weeks, against the clock, before construction begins. Federico designs it from Europe: he is in Milan, at the Salone Satellite, representing Argentine design.
The work is done with the partners' own hands and the help of friends. The budget is tight. What can't be bought gets built.
Eight years later, the machine Agustín bought without knowing where he'd put it finds its place. It's the same one. It switches on for the first time in the spot that was meant for it.
Turba opens at the end of the world. We named it after a peat bog at the foot of Mount Olivia, because some things take their time to form —ten thousand years the peat, eight for us— and none of them are in a hurry. Come in. The food is good. The drink is good. It is good to be here.