Meet the family that's been delighting Queens diners for almost 50 years

On a recent Sunday, the line to dine at El Gauchito seemed to never end. As each new person entered, Marcello Civelli, 46, wrote names and party sizes down on his notepad.

El Gauchito is a butcher shop and Argentine steakhouse in Elmhurst, Queens where classics like the parrillada (a mixed grill of traditional Argentine cuts and meats) have been drawing crowds for almost 50 years.

It all started with Marcello's dad, Mario José Civelli, 76, a professional boxer from the countryside of Mendoza, Argentina.

Mario, champion of the Mocoroa Boxing Club, immigrated to the U.S. in 1968 amid ongoing political turmoil in Argentina. A framed copy of a program announcing an “extraordinario! sensacional!” boxing match from 1968 hangs on the wall near the front of the customer line. That’s when he fought Nicolino Locche, an International Boxing Hall of Fame inductee.

Mario had a dream of becoming a world-class boxer in New York City. But without the dollars or connections to a skilled promoter, he soon realized that dream was impossible.

Like many new and hungry immigrants, he became a restaurant busser. At a Cuban butcher shop in Jackson Heights, he learned the ropes of the business, and decided to start his own — one that focused on his Argentine community.

In 1978, he opened a tiny butcher shop in Elmhurst, providing meats and cuts that Argentine immigrants wanted, breaking them down himself when needed. He made morcilla (blood sausage) and chorizo from scratch. He stuffed eggs and herbs into the matambre (a thin cut by the ribs) for a dish called matambre arrollado.

Customers kept asking for a sit-down restaurant. In 1979, he obliged. He built a grill up by the front window and installed three tables.

“This was a place that everybody that my father knew from Mendoza or just met here came,” said Marcello. They would get all get together: get a bottle of wine, have food, make music. It was a very lively thing.”

Crowds grew, and requests for more Argentine dishes poured in. Mario hired chefs, and rejiggered the sliding puzzle that was his restaurant space.

He demolished the backyard and built out a kitchen there. He moved the grill and butcher station to the back, and opened up the dining section. Later, the Chinese bar next door shut down, and he took over the space, almost tripling the dining capacity. He’s kept that iteration since.

Diners now walk in and line up through a narrow walkway flanked on the right by a wall and the left by Argentine soccer jerseys for sale. The space is divided into three sections: the butcher shop in the back, the original dining room for smaller parties and the newer dining section for larger seatings. Illustrated tiles and hand paintings depict Argentine stars of cinema, tango and boxing all around.

On that recent Sunday, both rooms were packed. And the orders kept pouring in. Marcello was ready for this. He’d ordered 828 pounds of skirt steak, 1,335 pounds of short ribs, and 900 pounds of butts for the house-made chorizo.

On every table, the parrillada glistened — a mountain of meats, slicked and charred. Chimichurri, so garlicky and bright green, accompanied them. There were locro (hearty hominy stew), empanadas whose pleats signaled their fillings, pastas drizzled with white cream sauce.

Mario rarely comes in these days. But not because he’s resting. In 2003, he opened El Gauchito 2 in Fresh Meadows, and in 2023, the third offshoot in Rockville Center, Long Island. He oversees the businesses, which have given generations of his family stable careers. His daughter manages the accounting. His grandson goes in five days of the week to “do what my dad does.”

Marcello handles everything at the original Elmhurst location — from photography for the butcher shop’s catalogue to hosting, managing staff, handling retail and wholesale orders. He recently found a copy of an El Gauchito flyer from back when a roast veal with salad cost $5.90.

“Where should I put this?” he said, positioning the flyer on different walls of the vestibule leading to the large dining room, lined with old photos of current and former employees, an old boxing program.

Marcello decided on a ceiling corner. It’s the continuation of his memory lane.

1. Correction: A previous story misstated Mario José Civelli's name.