Parilla

During my almost three months in Argentina in 2007, I ate steak once. It was good, but nothing special and I was preoccupied with the idea that red meat is bad for you and you shouldn't eat it. Now I can't believe how completely and utterly stupid I was.

See above a picture of me cooking the Argentine equivalent of filet mignon.....for breakfast. Folks, I'm addicted.

Upon trying the steak again during my parent's trip, I quickly became hooked. In the past, I craved sweets, breads, sushi, and other ninny forms of food. But now that I have had tried truly good beef, it is what I crave above all else. And it's not just the finest cuts....

In a few moments, I have to leave to practice giving my tour of the city to a friend so I don't have much time to elaborate, but I want to impart a lesson I learned about a week ago....

Heaven is a town called Jesus Marie in central Argentina.

The town itself is without a doubt ugly. The people are really friendly, but the town is beat up, overgrown, poorly maintained, and just plain undesirable.

We entered the town after a long day of driving through the mountains from La Cumbre in search of Jesuit churches. Unfortunately, all the churhes were closed and, as we later found out, always are on Monday. Tired, hungry, and ornery, we stopped in the last town on the Jesuit trail, Jesus Marie. My parents were still full from a big breakfast, but I hadn't eaten as much and needed lunch. On the main drag of the city, we spotted one restaurant. It was one of the only restaurants open and there seemed to be many cars in the parking lot (a good sign typically). The name was Los Cruces and upon walking in, we were almost sure that we had stumbled on a tourist trap. As it turned out, everyone there was speaking Spanish and as I said before, Monday isn't a big day for tourism because the Jesuit church is closed.

We found seats away from the locals and the owner, who seemed annoyed to have to be dealing with tourists, approached us and said in Spanish...Well I don't know what you want but what we have is parilla (barbecue) so I if you're going to eat here, that's what you'll get. Fair enough, parilla sounded perfect to me. My parents weren't hungry and just wanted a little, but I wanted the whole shebang and thank Jesus Marie, that's what I got.

After haggling with the owner over the price, which I did not do a good job of because he more or less robbed us, a man began bringing us cuts of meat from a nearby grill. Our waiter was also cutting the fresh meat and grilling it at the same time. As soon as he gave us one piece, he began grilling another. My plate was never empty but never full. That way, the meat never had a chance to get cold and was as fresh as I have ever eaten. Friends and family, it was heaven.

Meat in the countryside of Argentina must be fresher. I'm guessing there is less distance that the slaughtered cow must travel since Jesus Marie is located near so many estancias. And the quality of cow is amazing, espetacular. We saw these cows grazing on 1000s of acres of land in the mountains. They had more than enough space and were chewing on exotic/wild mountain grass. It made me want to be an Argentine cow. The views from their resting spots were breathtaking and the air was crisp and clean. A very privileged life...before slaughter...And the resulting flavor was...need I say more.

That day in Jesus Marie at Los Cruces, I ate almost everything on my plate, not just the choices cuts of meat. I ate fat, intestines, weird cuts surrounded by fat and gristle that had somehow become oh so flavorful. The entire time, the owner watched us warily, as if he were pissed that he had to share such an amazing secret with us. Were it not for the quality of the meat, I would have been extremely uncomfortable. But it was as if I had been given a drug. My parents, who enjoyed only one piece of meat, had to endure my constant praise and sounds of pleasure as I tore into each new offering. Each time after thanking my waiter/butcher/grill artiste, he would simply nod knowingly, as if to say, 'Yes, I know you are from the city and you have never tasted good meat. Yes, I know it is good. Ok, that's enough'.

In the end, I thanked the owner and told him how I felt that the meat was the best I had ever eaten. He told me that the key was freshness at every step from slaughter to the table, and proceeded to overcharge me accordingly. I didn't care. I would have paid double.

Friends and family, I have found happiness and it is called Los Cruces in Jesus Marie, an overgrown, overcast town in the middle of Argentina. To summarize, the key is fresh meat, freshly cut, and eating it the moment it is off the grill.