What’s Up Buenos Aires

The Mixed Grill

Dan P.Thursday, May 12, 20110

What’s Up Buenos Aires
NEWS
May 12, 2011

The Mixed Grill

Noel Coward famously said, “Sunburn is very becoming, but only when it is even – one must be careful not to look like a mixed grill.” While we can all understand not wanting to look like one, most of us would be happy to look at one, and then chow down. Here in Buenos Aires, the mixed grill, or parrillada, is everywhere. You can take yourself, your significant other, and all your friends out and dig into a platters of innards and cuts of beef, chicken, pork, and perhaps other meats at any of seemingly thousands of parrillas. We set out to find some different options, hot off the grill.

The Mixed Veg

First to come to mind were vegetables. Sometimes, we’re just starved for the things, and the typical offering of an ensalada mixto with tomato, lettuce and onion, or the steakhouse staple of chard or spinach a la crema, just won’t cut it. We want a selection, and we want it grilled. The hands-down winner we found is the still trendy, modern style Miranda, a parrilla where it’s not just about what you’re eating, but who you’re eating with. For just over 50 pesos they serve up a good sized platter with half a grilled onion, slabs of potato and sweet potato, wedges of butternut squash, slices of zucchini, eggplant and red bell peppers. If we have any objection, it was to the unnecessary fluff of lettuce leaves garnishing the center of the plate. It’s pretty to look at, but it wasn’t grilled. Miranda, corner of Fitz Roy & Costa Rica, Palermo, 4771-4255.

The Seven Seas

Sometimes we want more surf than turf, and our thoughts turn to fish and shellfish. With the recent departure of our favorite river fish grill, Jangada, we had to start searching anew. Turns out there are a slew of great parrilladas del mar sailing the high seas of Buenos Aires and we’ve only begun to call in at port and check them out. So far, our favorite is Fervor, a pricey, special meal out kind of spot in the heart of old Recoleta. Coming in at over the 200 peso mark (with a half portion reaching 185, pictured), when you consider how pricey seafood tends to be in this city, and that the full portion will easily feed four while the half will, well, feed two, it’s not as hard to swallow. And the food certainly isn’t – two options, either del mar which contains two of the chef’s selections from the fish of the day (rotating between over a dozen options), scallops, calamarette, prawns, and octopus, while the de mariscos offers up more of the same shellfish and leaves aside the fillets. Perfectly cooked, well seasoned, and served up with a trio of housemade dipping sauces and wedges of lemon. Fervor: Brasas del Campo y del Mar, Posadas 1519, 4804-4944.

Rolling in Dough

We know that pizza is nature’s most perfect food, properly encompassing the right balance of whichever set of food groups you choose to subscribe to. Though not as common as it ought to be, one of our favorite porteño contributions to the pizza world are some of the best grilled pizzas we’ve found, anywhere. Hidden away, almost like that slightly “off” aunt that every family has and only trots out at the occasional social gathering, pizza a la parrilla is a gem to behold. And eat. It’s a tough decision as to who offers up the best version, but certainly the easiest to find, and up there in the top couple, would be either branch of Morelia. Cracker thin crust, perfectly charred and delivering up that beautiful smoky grill flavor, and topped with a thin drizzle of olive oil, a whisper of sauce, and your choice of toppings (our favorite is the montecattini with prosciutto, arugula and olives), just barely warmed atop, the pizzas come in 4, 6, or 8 piece sizes (ranging, depending on size and toppings, from roughly 50 to 100 pesos). Morelia, Humboldt 2005 in Palermo, 4772-5979 and Báez 260 in Las Cañitas, 4772-0329, plus one out of town up in La Lucila at Av. Libertador 3499, 4799-7377.

American Barbecue

Particularly for those of us from the U.S., there are moments when we miss a good old-fashioned backyard barbecue. Asados just aren’t the same thing. We want meat that’s cooked “low and slow” until it’s so tender it falls off the bone – come to think of it, we want that the meat was cooked on the bone in the first place, it adds flavor! And sometimes, we want barbecue sauce. And what better place to find something of that sort than Bar BQ, where an Argentine owner who spent time in the States licking his fingers in front more wood, charcoal and gas fired grills than you can shake a stick at, brings us his version. And no disappointments were had – with multiple visits under our belts and tasters from Michigan, Colorado, Texas and New York, only the last of those had anything less than glowing reviews, and what do New Yorkers know about barbecue? Hibachis on the fire escape? Beautiful pork baby back ribs or equally shining beef short ribs are lacquered in a tangy sweet sauce with what tastes to us like a tinge of coffee, either running about 70 pesos. The smoky pulled pork sandwich brought tears to our eyes though we did have a debate about pickles on the sandwich (Texas and Michigan vote yes, Colorado and New York vote no), coming in just under 50 pesos. Home sweet home. Bar BQ, El Salvador 5800 in Palermo, 4779-9124.

Family Style

We can’t totally ignore Argentina’s meat laden famed asado, and there’s no reason we should. One of the things that many of us wish we could do is attend a few more of those backyard family versions, with all the social interactions attendant. And when friends come to visit, it’d be great to not just take them to the same old neighborhood steakhouse or tourist trap version they read about in every guidebook out there. Brand spanking new to the scene is an option to create your own family for the night at the shared table of Adentro Dinner Club. Here, hosts Gabriel and Kelly, respectively Argentine and norteamericana, welcome you to their home in one of the latest of the burgeoning puertas cerradas movement. From mom’s empanada recipe to platters of achurras, the “parts is parts” round, plump prawns, amazing vegetables, and thick, juicy, perfectly cooked slabs of meat, accompanied by wine and followed by exquisite desserts, you get to join a table of strangers, who, by the end of the night will be fast friends. Coming in at 220 pesos a person it seems a bit steep, but it’s all you can eat, and a social experience that can’t be beat. Adentro Dinner Club, in Palermo (address provided with reservation).

Special WUBA guest Dan Perlman opens his home to visitors in one of Buenos Aires’ premier puertas cerradas, Casa Saltshaker.

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Buenos Aires, Restaurants

Street Food Buenos Aires

Dan P.Thursday, May 8, 20080

What’s Up Buenos Aires
NEWS
May 8, 2008

Street Food Buenos Aires

One of the first things that gastro-tourists notice about Buenos Aires, after they’re done rushing in for their requisite platters of massive steaks, is the lack of street food. Most major cities have vendors who wander the streets with small carts, or park their wagons in strategic locales, selling everything from local specialties to a cornucopia of ethnic imports.

When I first arrived in BA, I came to the conclusion that locals simply don’t like to eat standing up, nor grab something quick to take back to the office. And it is true that lunch is a more leisurely affair here than in many world capitals, with business back-burnered or perhaps discussed over a bottle or two of wine. But, there is fast food, and its not just eaten by adolescents, and there are spots where standing to eat is commonplace.

One of the issues, I suppose, is the narrowness of the streets in the central business district. There’s simply nowhere for a cart to be that would be safe for anyone involved. But parks are a good bet, and there is more green space in Buenos Aires than almost any other major city in the world. Often, admittedly, these offer a very limited selection of items – hotdogs or hamburgers, perhaps a milanesa (breaded cutlet) sandwich. Caramelized nuts are popular snacks. But that’s not lunch.

There are spots in the more working class neighborhoods, and the one that most visitors see is San Telmo, where, while not cart-based, there are little hole-in-the-wall parrillas, or grills, dotted throughout the zone. These spots are little more than a standup lunch counter, where workers on a quick break cram in to grab a choripan (sausage sandwich), a vacipan (flank steak sandwich) at any of a dozen spots, or huge slice of pizza and BA’s classic fainá (chickpea bread) layered atop at a traditional joint like Pirilo, along Defensa Street.

But the best spots for street food are the two Costaneras, or boardwalks. It’s a misnomer, as there are no boards, these are wide concrete walkways that border two stretches of the city limits. The Costanera Norte, at least the portion with street food, runs alongside the domestic airport, looking out on the river. Here, a dozen or more relatively permanent wagons offer up a range of parrilla options – from sandwiches to small plates, and covering different types of sausages – chorizo, morcilla, salchicha parrillera, as well as various cuts of meat, both beef and pork. Some few even offer up classic achurros, or innards, though generally seem to be momentarily out of them when you ask.

Join in with the cabbies, cops and service workers munching away for a quick lunch along the river. You could do a lot worse than simply starting at the eastern end with Parrilla Oriente and having yourself a bondiola con limón, or start at the other end, by the airport entrance, with a churrasquito, a thin cut of grilled beef, at El Tano Criollo. Each spot offers up its own array of condiments, from classic chimichurri and salsa criolla to interesting spicy combinations like onions and chilies.

The true hotspot for street food, however, is the Costanera Sur, located on the far side of Puerto Madero Este, running its entire length along the canal and ecological reserve. On weekdays the selection is much the same as that of its northern counterpart, though with a few more options (the occasional lamb or chicken offering) – but on weekends is when it really shines. Then, the ubiquitous parrilla wagons are joined by smaller temporary carts that serve up a variety of food from the northern regions of the country – everything from locro (corn, squash, beef, and sausage stew) to fried breads impregnated with bits of chicharron (pork cracklings). Too, in fitting with the porteño sweet tooth, there is sudden influx of dessert stands, many of them overflowing with dozens of different varieties of tarts, tortes, and other sweets, a full range of coffee options, and lines that extend down the walkway. This is a place where families come to enjoy the open air, eat a little, watch one or another street performer, and maybe take a walk through the reserve. But for the dedicated street food fanatic, it’s just one long banquet table.

Dan Perlman is a former New York based chef, sommelier, food and wine writer who now lives in Buenos Aires. For more of his scribblings on food, wine, and restaurants visit his blog at www.saltshaker.net

Thanks to Fall 08 intern Christine for sampling so much yummy street food with us.

Online Publications, What's Up Buenos Aires

Buenos Aires, Restaurants, Street food

Mercado del Progreso

Dan P.Tuesday, October 9, 20070

What’s Up Buenos Aires
NEWS
October 9, 2007

Mercado del Progreso

A lot can change in two hundred years. The Plaza de Mayo, then the Plaza Mayor, was a different place – the central gathering point for a small city – surrounded by a customs house, post office, church, and fortress, lined up with rows of merchants from the west, with their covered wagons. Butchers, bakers, well… candlestick makers… all in town, gathering to sell their wares to the local populace. Not far away, in what is now the Plaza del Congreso, gathered the merchants of the north, forming the Mercado Indio, and, no surprise, another locale was set aside for those in town from the south, in what is now Plaza del Constitución. But that was all to change… By the mid-1800s, various decrees ended up banishing the merchants from any plaza designated as public use, and a new system had to be found for offering food, straight from the farms and ranches, to restock the local larders.

The first step was the creation of a Mercado authority, which then moved the three principal markets to indoor locations, providing each merchant with a small stand from which to sell his wares – a trio of buildings all near to the Plaza de Mayo, the Mercados “del Centro”, “Lorea”, and “del Plata”. From there, and as the city grew in size, the new system spread outwards, and by the end of the century, there were 21 official indoor markets operating in various parts of the city. A few of those still remain, the one most commonly seen by visitors probably being the Mercado de San Telmo, which still houses a number of food vendors, but has mostly been taken over by antique and junk dealers. Another easy to find, and smaller example, is the Mercado de San Cristobal, just off the corner of Córdoba and Callao.

But the true market aficionado will want to “take the A-train” to its last stop in the barrio of Caballito, where the last remaining fully operational and full sized mercado, the Mercado del Progreso (Av. Rivadavia 5430), opened “at five in the afternoon on the 9th of November, 1889” and other than a revamp in 1894 and a full renovation in 1957 – which included providing every market stand with a running water supply and electricity – has been up and running ever since. True, small encroachments are happening along its sides – what were once integral cafes, meeting spots, and offices have been converted to small shops and restaurants, no longer part of the Mercado itself; and yes, over there is a stand that’s offering up blank CD and DVD discs; but the heart of the market remains true – food. Vegetable stands, fruit stands – all selling produce direct from the farm are dotted throughout the block square edifice. The mainstays are the butchers – each with their own specialty, be it beef, or veal, pork, or chicken and rabbits, even a couple of fishmongers. Here they gather, and here shop the local populace, much as they did nearly 120 years ago – haggling over prices, discussing preparation tips, meeting neighbors to chat – and most importantly, keeping a two century old tradition alive in the heart of Buenos Aires.

Monday to Saturday 8 a.m. to 1 p.m. and 5 p.m. to 8:30 p.m.

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Buenos Aires, Marketing

Porteño Food Heritage: Fact or Fiction? An Investigation…

Dan P.Tuesday, December 19, 20060

What’s Up Buenos Aires
NEWS
December 19, 2006

Porteño Food Heritage: Fact or Fiction? An Investigation…

I’m coming late to the party by posting on this topic, but it’s been simmering in the back of my mind for a week or two. In amazingly typical fashion, the local Heritage Commission has declared a new range of food items that are considered “emblematic” of porteño culture. Those of us who live here in our adopted country have become used to outlandish claims in casual and animated conversation by many a local that one plate or another is Argentine in origin. Often, these dishes are ones that anyone who travels the globe or explores the world of food knows existed elsewhere in the world long before Argentina had anything but a native, indigenous cuisine. This time, however, it’s not random conversation with a new friend over drinks, but the government itself stepping in to stake the porteño claims.

The one that seems to have generated the most controversy is the milanesa a la napolitana, that ubiquitous local version of a weiner schnitzel topped with ham, cheese, and a bit of tomato sauce – most of the controversy coming from the juxtaposition of “milanesa” (from Milan) and “napolitana” (from Naples). The milanesa part is easy, pounded thin, breaded and fried slices of beef or veal are called cotoletta alla milanesa in Italy, or, a Milan style cutlet, since before the first Italian set foot on South American soil. While the name “a la Napolitana” is both claimed locally to come from the idea of Neapolitan pizza or from a restaurant called El Napolitano that existed in the 1940s here over by Luna Park; at best, this is simply a renaming of the classic Neapolitan saltimbocca alla Sorrentina – pounded thin, floured or breaded, fried slices of veal topped with Parma ham, mozzarella, and a fresh tomato sauce. The dish has been around since long before anyone from Sorrento headed to Argentina. One can even look at things like schnitzel “cordon bleu”, a dish dating back to some unknown time in the history of L’Ordre des Chevaliers du Saint Esprit, the organization of knights famed for their luxurious banquets since 1578… this dish a breaded cutlet topped with a thin slice of ham and melted cheese – only missing that bit of tomato sauce.

Better to have claimed the matambre a la pizza – while matambre may merely be an adaptation of cima a la genovese from Liguria, the idea of topping it with those same pizza ingredients has got to be uniquely porteño… though, I haven’t researched that one thoroughly.

I might also have to give them pizza a la faina – while both pizza and faina exist in other places and cultures, since before Buenos Aires was founded, the use of the faina, or chickpea bread slice, as a top crust while eating a pizza does seem to be uniquely porteño.

Beyond that, the Commission has added in such things as vermú, or vermouth – not, thankfully, claiming that it was invented by Argentines, but claiming the tradition of drinking it as integral to local custom. I’m not sure how that differs from their Italian forefathers and mothers, but it’s now official.

Of course, this all follows on 2003’s claims by the same Commission to empanadas, asado, y dulce de leche – hmmm… empanadas, beyond existing in one form or another in every culture that produces pastry, are a pretty clear Spanish import, even if they’ve evolved to an art form here; the asado, a big part Spanish influence on the gaucho culture here – but is it anymore elaborate or a part of the culture than, say, the norteamericano weekend barbecue, or the still extent Spanish version of the same? The last, a claim that’s been up for grabs and dispute for a long period of time. Though I couldn’t prove it one way or the other, I’d be hard pressed to accede to a claim that dulce de leche was invented either here or in Uruguay – the idea that no one was caramelizing milk and sugar back in Europe before local colonization is, to my mind, unlikely, though I’d be willing to be proved wrong on that.

Other dishes that are apparently up for consideration include sorrentinos – round, plump, large ravioli. True, elsewhere in the world no one calls them sorrentinos, but there’s nothing unique about them other than the name – which apparently also comes from a local restaurant called Sorrento that was located on Av. Corrientes here – though this is also up for dispute, I’ve seen more than one claim that the name comes from a restaurant called Sorrento that was located in Mar del Plata – still here in the province of Buenos Aires.

I’ve seen one proposed idea for a bife a caballo – a steak topped with a fried egg. I’ve even seen discussions in different forums about the whole a caballo “phenomenon”, claiming that it’s extraordinarily common here. Okay, I’ve seen it offered on steaks, I’ve seen it on lomo sandwiches and hamburgers. But it’s not exactly ubiquitous, and it’s certainly not uniquely Argentine. I can get a fried egg atop a piece of beef at any diner in the U.S., and probably throughout most of Europe. Even the a caballo, or “on horseback”, has been called a cheval, with the same meaning, in France for centuries.

On the dessert front – the vigilante – a deceivingly simple plate of queso blanco served accompanied by a thick slice of dulce de batata or dulce de membrillo – sweet potato or quince jelly is a common dessert here. While certainly more common than in many other places, I’m not sure I’d call it unique – I’ve had the same in Mexico, I’ve had the same in France. The name, once again, is as far as I know, unique to Argentina. The tarantela – more or less a classic charlotte with a caramelized coating and an apple and custard filling. The torta rogel or milhojas – interleaved pastry with dulce de leche and/or chocolate. The budín de pan – basically a sweet loaf of bread, or even a steamed bread pudding.

All this is not to take away from Argentine or porteño culture and cuisine. As has been said in many a cooking forum, and by many a chef throughout the world, “there’s nothing really new in the cooking world, it’s all been done by someone, somewhere, before.” What is unique to the culture here is the blending of these various imports, along with what remains of the indigenous cuisine, and imports from other parts of both the country (locro, carbonada…) and Latin America. Rather than picking out individual dishes and claiming them as unique, or even integral to only this culture, especially when such claims are easily disproved, what Argentines could easily celebrate is the amazingly rich melting pot of these varied dishes. There is probably nowhere else on the planet where this particular melding of ideas, techniques, and recipes, both classic and modern, come together in such a seamless blend. That’s something to be truly proud of.

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Argentina, Politics, Travel

To Mate or Not to Mate: Is That Even a Question?

Dan P.Thursday, August 24, 20060

What’s Up Buenos Aires
NEWS
August 24, 2006

To Mate or Not to Mate: Is That Even a Question?

I avoided mate for my first couple of months in Argentina. Not because there was anything particularly wrong with the tea itself, though one sip of it one time left me with a bitter taste, something like tea left to stand too long. No, it was the communal nature of the experience. Imagine sitting down to your morning coffee, pouring yourself a few spoonfuls, drinking it, then pouring the same amount and passing the cup on to the next person at the breakfast table. With half a dozen folk sitting around your table, getting your morning caffeine buzz on could take hours.

Mate, or more formally, yerba mate, is the dried and chopped leaves of a shrub from the holly family, native to the Rio de la Plata part of South America. The name comes from the Quechua language, the primary ancient language of the Incas, where the herb is called mati. Many claims have been made for the health giving properties of regular ingestion of this herb, the most common of which is weight loss. It may be true, but not for any magical reasons. Yerba mate is packed with caffeine – not as much as coffee, but plenty of it. There are folks who claim that mate doesn’t contain caffeine, but instead mateine – however that’s just folklore – mateine is merely a synonym for caffeine and is chemically identical.

The same name is often used for the cup that it is prepared in, though some prefer to call it a matero. Traditionally, the mate is a hollowed out small gourd that has been dried, and the drinking straw is made from a hollow reed. In the modern day, mates are often ceramic, metal, or glass, and can be highly decorative. The straw, or bombilla, is generally wood or metal, with a fine mesh or tiny holes at the bottom to prevent sucking up pieces of leaves.

Mate is not brewed like tea – there are some serious differences. There is an art to packing the leaves into the matero, and to the placement of the bombilla. This art can sometimes get as complicated as a Japanese green tea ceremony, depending on the cebador, the person brewing it – an historic if rarely used term in casual conversation. The cebador is not always, in truth as best I can tell, not generally, the host. Instead, it’s the person who is first asked if they want to drink mate, or, if you’re too slow on the offering – a time period that extends from the moment you hang up their coats until their backsides touch down on your sofa cushion – the person who asks for it. And they will ask. Because mate, despite one’s ability to drink it alone, is a social experience, much the same as passing a peace pipe or a bottle of bourbon around the campfire. I’ve also noted that within some groups of friends, one person is always the cebador, apparently by group consensus that they pack the best cup.

Once offered, and the cebador selected, and the water put on to boil, the artist packs and then brews and drinks the first cup, ensuring that the fine particulate matter is cleared. This is also the moment when the cebador assesses your ability to select a good mate, and believe me, they’re different. I’m not quite sure what would happen if my mate didn’t pass the test. My guess is, given the social mores of porteño society, trashing the quality would be perfectly acceptable. It would no doubt become the subject of a solid ten minutes of embarrassing conversation designed to ensure that I never again repeat such a stupid mistake.

Assuming that the mate passes muster, and thankfully for my yanqui self, it always has, the cebador refills the cup and passes it to the first person, who drinks and hands it back. After that, the mate continues around in a circle, one cup at a time, each poured by the cebador, and then handed to the next person in the circle. This is a communal affair, and extraordinarily important to the bonding of not only close friends, but of host and guest. One can merely hope that no one in the circle has a communicable disease. To not partake of at least one round of the mate cup, unless one is ill, is considered poor manners. When you’ve had your fill, you hand the cup back to the host and say “gracias”, perhaps with a simple wave of the hand. The thank you is the cebador’s indication that you wish to be left out of the following rounds.

A decision is generally made by consensus whether or not to drink the mate bitter or sweet. If the former, nothing more is added, just a topping off of hot water; if the latter, a small spoonful of sugar is added each, or every few rounds of pouring. If the group has a mixed decision, the sugar drinkers generally win, and those who prefer their mate unadulterated generally wait to drink until one or two cups have been poured since the last addition of sugar.

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Beverages

Pizza in BA: An absolute must, have to, don’t miss, to die for

Dan P.Sunday, June 18, 20060

What’s Up Buenos Aires
NEWS
June 18, 2006

Pizza in BA: An absolute must, have to, don’t miss, to die for

Pizza is one of those things that is easy to carry on about. We all have our likes and dislikes. Thin crust, thick crust, red sauce, white, cheese or no, and toppings from simple herbs to tuna and pineapple. Properly constructed, a pizza could be the illustration for the USDA’s food pyramid, with it’s grain-based crust, vegetable, meat, and dairy toppings.

Buenos Aires in particular, with its strong Italian-rooted population, and Argentina in general, offers up its own takes on Nature’s most perfect food. Locals can wax poetic and argue for hours over not only which pizzeria serves up the best pie, but whether pizza porteña tops New York, Chicago, or even Naples for quality. That’s not a debate I care to weigh in on, I prefer to think that everyone brings their own contribution to the table. Why limit yourself?

Pizza in Buenos Aires tends to show up in one of four guises. There are variations on the theme, with coal, wood, or gas fired ovens that produce differing results, and further variations on the former two with various types of charcoal and wood being used – for example, quebracha wood, a type of evergreen, being unique to many of the country’s ovens and grills. The most common of the four types is the pizza a la piedra, or pizza cooked on a stone. Generally a thin to medium thickness crust, this is probably the most familiar to folks from other places. Arguably the finest spot in Buenos Aires for this style is Güerrin, right by the Obelisk.

Pizza al molde, or pan pizza, is a favorite for many folk. A thicker crust, sometimes showing up a bit like just a thicker version of the piedra and sometimes a true deep-dish style – this can range from something similar to what we think of as “Sicilian” to classic “Chicago”. Though there are folks who would disagree, I think it would be near impossible here to beat Las Cuartetas, also near to the Obelisk.

Although not some new invention, as some folks here like to boast, pizza a la parrilla, or grilled pizza, is a relatively new introduction to the Capital. Cracker thin crusts, and given that most of the places serving it are sort of trendy new hotspots, often far more creative toppings than the norm, are the hallmarks of this style. There aren’t many places offering it yet, and the contenders to the throne don’t have a clear winner – Minna, in Puerto Madero Este; Morelia in Palermo Viejo; and Mamina in Liniers are clearly the top of the heap.

Buenos Aires’ unique contribution to the pizza world is the faina, a pizza, or focaccia, made of chickpea flour, the crust baked and usually served unadorned or with a simple herb or onion topping, as an accompaniment to a standard pizza. Though faina clearly comes from Liguria, where it is sometimes called farinata, (and there are versions throughout the Mediterranean – Gibralter’s “national dish” of calentita or Nice’s socca come to mind) – what makes it unusual is that here it is served as an adjunct to pizza – a “classic” porteño lunch is a a slice or two of pizza and a slice of faina – which is often laid atop of a slice of pizza as a sort of top-crust, or eaten in alternating bites – and a glass of cheap Moscato.

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Pizza, Travel

Offal: Chinchulines, Mollejas, Corazon and Other Delights…

Dan P.Friday, March 10, 20060

What’s Up Buenos Aires
NEWS
March 10, 2006

Offal: Chinchulines, Mollejas, Corazon and Other Delights…

It’s a shame that the words offal and awful are virtual homonyms in the English language. It immediately gives some leverage to the folks who fall into the camp of “I wouldn’t touch a plate of that with your tongue if I was paid to do it”. Versus, of course, the camp that others fall into where the mere mention of one of these body parts is enough to cause Pavlovian salivation. Even in the Argentine culture (and the Italian culture from which many of their recipes derive) opinion, no, vehemence pro or con in regard to the “fifth quarter” as the Romans called it, abounds.

Most everyone has tried something like liver – whether calf, beef, duck, or chicken – in one guise or another. On the chicken front, gizzards and hearts are common enough; perhaps even a chicken foot or two. When it comes to other animals and other organs, there are certainly things like steak and kidney pie out there, but here comes the moment when the two camps divide and begin to wage war. “If I only had a heart… a brain… the nerve…” takes on a whole new meaning from its connotations in the land of Oz. Here, we want them seasoned, grilled, sauced, and served.

For those of us in the pro camp, variety meats are not just the spice of life, they are the pinnacle of its culinary possibilities. For those who have yet to try them, or are unfamiliar with what is available, this basic guide, more or less from one entrail to the other.

Chinchulines are the small intestines
Chotos are a strangely braided larger part of the small intestine
Corazón is the heart
Criadillas are testicles, or if it makes you feel better, prairie or Rocky Mountain oysters
Higado is your already probably familiar liver
Mollejas de corazón are sweetbreads from the lower regions, the pancreas
Mollejas de cuello are sweetbreads from the neck, or, the thymus glands
Mondongo is tripe
Pulmones are lungs
Riñones are kidneys
Seso is the brain
Tripa is the stomach (not tripe, as you might think)

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Red meat, Travel

On Empanadas

Dan P.Thursday, January 19, 20060

What’s Up Buenos Aires
NEWS
January 19, 2006

On Empanadas

While not impossible to visit Buenos Aires and avoid sampling empanadas, it would be foolish. Argentina is known far and wide for its beef, and aficionados will argue the fine points of presentation from the parrilla or the asado. Yet probably no other item from the culinary repertoire engenders quite so much passion as the defense of one’s favorite empanada. Arguments range from “my grandmother made criollas that your grandmother wasn’t fit to eat” to “my favorite place has the most perfect… baked, fried, cut beef or ground, potatoes, olives, eggs, onions, or raisins, included or not… and I’ll take you there and prove it.” Culinary historians natter on about the origin of this bread enveloped pastry, tracing it back to Galicia in Spain, or perhaps to ancient Persia. To hear some of them go on, we’d need carbon dating to settle on the origin.

It would come as no surprise to find that every culture on the planet has some version of the empanada – from Middle Eastern fatays, to Asian pot-stickers, to Scandinavian pastys, to a classic savory turnover from France. Yet, there is something uniquely Latin American about the empanada. It would be difficult to put one’s finger on it – the dough is not unique in the pastry world, most often made from simple white flour, eggs, water, and lard. The fillings range from beef to pork to chicken to fish. The spices vary in accordance with local favorites throughout South and Central America and the Caribbean. The additions are too numerous to consider. Yet there’s something about them, when one picks them up, hot and juicy, that fits the Latin culture.

Argentines would argue that theirs are the best. That would be a hard claim to prove, but it would be a fantastically delicious exercise to sit down at a table laden with examples from throughout the empanada world. Certainly there is a wide variety of regional styles, thankfully most of them are available here in Buenos Aires (including examples from neighboring countries), removing the need to hop on colectivos and travel province by province to sample them. Here you can find garlicky, spicy catamarqueñas chockfull of potatoes, green onion packed salteñas, white onion filled san juaninos, touches of tomato and various cheeses in the tucumanas, salmon and tuna from the shore, or packed into Chilean styles, lamb and mushrooms from Patagonia, pumpkin based Venezuelans, and finely ground goat meat in the arabe styles. Cheese filled, corn filled, vegetable laden, or a wide variety of meats abound. Local shops may offer specialty versions, and it is worth seeking out something like smoky pancetta and plum, or spicy sausage and green onion, or even an Italian knockoff like a napolitana.

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