Steak for supper. Steak for lunch. And for supper, again. and again. Breakfast? Why not? Bistec, charred and crusty outside, perfectly pink inside, oozing its wonderful juices. At home, I’m not much of a meat-eater; I do the healthy, semi-veggie thing, greens and grains, indulging in a steak only once every few months or so. However, since arriving in Buenos Aires, I’ve been transformed like a werewolf under a full moon into a ravenous, snarling carnivore. I know a steady diet of beef is not in my best interest, but I’ve been seduced into the temptation of perfectly grilled bife.
Argentinians prepare meat in a very uncomplicated but delicious manner; every cut of beef imaginable (and some that aren’t) is laid over a wrought iron grill, a
Parilla, on top of smoldering wooden logs and cooked slowly to beefy perfection-- all that used to top it off is some garlicky chimichurri sauce.
Attending an asado is a crash course in South American culture; men prepare and cook the meat, while women prepare side dishes-although most Argentinians will scoff at the idea of accompanying one’s meat with something as silly as bread or salad--those just get in the way of enjoying one’s bife--although a side dish intended to enhance the bife is acceptable.
And of course, a perfectly prepared bife must be accompanied with a perfect Malbec--the world renowed deep red wine that has earned Argentina respect as one of the premier wine countries on the planet.
Vegetarian? maybe after I get home..
