Top 5s: Photos de Recoleta

Un lugar bien pituco:

Thursday June 23rd is el día de la Bandera (Flag Day) in Argentina.  

Although Almagro is my  "hood" - see previous post - I decided to spend the day (which was a sunny, clear 18 degrees) in el pituco barrio de Recoleta.  

  

It's one of those places where lovers, poets, musicians and tourists flock on a clear day.

Even though there was an arts and crafts fair, a free concert put on by the city government and the beautiful colonial style church of Nuestra Sra. de Pilar 

Recoleta's most visited landmark is El Cementerio de Recoleta.  

Although it happens to be one of the most famous cemeteries in the world, in addition to being touted for its spectacular architecture and famous inhabitants, porteños consider the cemetery a place for tourists.  Not being a tourist, but a temporary resident, I skipped the guided tour and sneaked past the police and panhandlers to meander the avenues alone.  Well, mostly alone.  

These are my top 5 favorite photos from my morning among the distinguished, the divine and the deceased.

Que disfruten!

Top 5(ish): Photos of El Cementerio de Recoleta 

 Me da piel del gallo / It gave me chills.

Top 5s: Lessons learned in an Argentine Kitchen

... so far:

Sometimes I miss the simple pleasures of home: tangy, easy-to-find Greek yogurt, a crispy-around-the-edges salmon sandwich with wholegrain mustard, a bag of trail mix, a few gummy bears hidden in the freezer, a McDonald's Caramel Frappe.  Then, I eat something charming and homely and run-of-the-mill like milanesa de calabaza (a breaded, baked slab of butternut squash with a squiggle of marinara and a ribbon of cheese) or empanadas de choclo, huevo y tomate (chubby, savory hand-pies stuffed with sweet corn, boiled egg, cheese and tomato).  Sure, to a strictly trained American pallet those two dishes sound about as unappetizing as they get - just imagine pipping hot cow brains with an oil and vinegar sauce chocked full of garlic and herbs - now we're talking.  But here, they are the likes of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or a plate of Kraft Mac 'n Cheese to Argentina.

The truth of the matter is, while not what I would consider spectacular, Argentine cuisine is: homely, loaded with carbs and a comical fusion between the Old World and Latin America.  I have to say, I was actually hoping for more rice and beans.  Of course, I have my favorite dishes, but that is for another post: Top 5 Favorite Dishes.  Today, I would like to share some of the things I've learned; fears I have overcome and crispy little life lessons I've picked up in Argentina - thus far.  My kitchen priveleges end in July, when I move to my next homestay, but I am sure I will be able to wring at least a few recipes out of my future host mother.

So, take advantage of your microwave and pop a bag of buttery, stick to your ribs microwavable popcorn and, by God, enjoy it.  I mean that: ENJOY IT.  The name Orvil Redenbacher never sounded so good.

Top 5: Lessons learned in an Argentine Kitchen

Buenos Aires, Argentina

5.  Polenta

The first week I was here I did what every smart, responsible, self-supporting student would do: I went to the local grocery store and spent an hour buying about US$8.00 worth of food.  What did that get me?  The only things I remember are a box of tepid off-the-shelf-in-a-paper-carton skim milk, a roll of bran cookies and a bag of instant polenta.  The minute Susana (my host mother) saw me painstakingly reading the package directions she took the reins; it was a travesty that I didn't know how to cook polenta.  What do you mean we didn't eat it all the time in the States?  Most unsettling of all: I had never enjoyed a heaping bowl of it with big slabs of warm, melting cheese and marinara sauce.  Thankfully, I am a quick study and was able to avoid any embarassing socio-cultural faux pas by making a quick-fix dinner of polenta a monthly staple in my Argentine diet.

But did I really need to come all the way to Argentina to love cornmeal?  Isn't it just like grits - something I am familiar with.  In theory, yes.  But they don't eat grits here, just like they don't eat corn tortillas like they do in Central America.  Thanks to the massive migration of Italian immigrants that took shape in the late 1800s and continued into the 1940s, Argentine cuisine has a distinctivly Italian flavor: take the tradition of fresh pastas, ñoquis caseros (potato gnocchi), meats/vegetables a la milanesa and you have all the staples of good, simple Italian food.  In Argentina, cornmeal is meant for polenta, plain and simple; no if's, and's or but's about it.  If the dozen of different brands in the supermarket didn't give you an idea of it's popularity then it's unavoidable presence on restaurant menu boards everywhere surely should.  

4.  Step on the gas.

I have always been deathly afraid of cooking on a gas range; I can't explain it.  Despite my addiction to cooking shows, I was embarrassingly afraid of blowing up the kitchen here at 4474 Diaz Velez when I arrived.  I remember seeing this photo in an email attachment and thinking, "maybe she renovated the kitchen since then."  How mortifying would it be to incinerate your host residence?  Luckily, I was able to avoid cooking, or having to light the stove on my own, for a few weeks with Susana's help and a sharp eye for a lit burner.  Of course, I knew that I couldn't spend six months here without being able to manhandle the gas range and churn out - at the very least - my morning bowl of oatmeal.  


All I have to say is: thank God for this box of matches.  

I still haven't quite mastered using the lighter, one handed like Susana, but I've been able to whip out a number of dishes without so much as a scorched pan or broken yolk.  A success?  You bet.  I remain skeptical, and a little intimidated, by the gas oven.  In the end, I am not sure if I agree totally with the popular belief that a gas range is better than electric, but at least I can honestly consider myself range-dextrous.  

Quinoa patties with ricotta and roasted red peppers.

Ensalada de choclo y atún 

                                                          (Typical Argentine corn, rice and tuna salad).

3.  A kitchen by any other name.


A kitchen is a kitchen, is a kitchen, is a kitchen.  In my house (in Virginia) if you have anything important to say; if you have a big test to study for; if you don't have anything to do than you go to the kitchen.  Luckily, that holds true here, too.  The kitchen, if nowhere else in the house, is where we are a family - no matter what.

We all take turns studying at the kitchen table, or Skyping with our families.  We snack on leftovers like cold empanadas or - if you are American - smear peanut butter on rice cakes late at night when we're too tired to cook.

The kitchen is where Susana and Mónica (her sister) stuff empanada dough with cream, ham and boiled eggs and laugh when I take photos.

It's where we share dishes from home on Sunday nights - that is... when one of us isn't too tired to cook.  (Look, Mom!  I made Sloppy Joes Memorial Day weekend for my two Brazilian housemates).

It's where we celebrate birthdays, holidays and say goodbyes. 

The kitchen, just like in any other house, is where where we all feel like we're home.

2.  The incredible edible egg

Due largely to the second most important wave of immigrants to arrive in Argentina - the Spanish - we put eggs in just about everything down here: the aforementioned empanadas, traditional quiches, tarts and souffles (with just about every vegetable you can possibly imagine) as well as simple dishes like zapallitos revueltos (zuchinni and onions cooked with scrambled eggs) or bife de chorizo a caballo (a delicious, thick steak with two fried eggs served on top).  Just like the Spanish, Argentines love eggs and put them in every salad, sandwich and side dish imaginable whether they are scrambled, boiled, poached or fried.  The second most popular Spanish import: olives.  I can't say I'm unhappy - I've grown to enjoy the briny bite of an ugly, plump green olive.  Unlike in Spain, however, Argentine's prefer to call the classic combination of egg + vegetable a "tarta" instead of a "tortilla" - occassionally you will see the traditional (and very Peninsular) name tortilla de papa on hot bars in the city.  The most important lesson I've learned about Argentine cooking is, and I mean this truly: when in doubt, put an egg on it.  

The one catch to this protein prolific tradition: no eggs are served for breakfast.  No scrambled eggs and cheese to go with your toast and jam.  No boiled eggs with a little butter, salt and pepper served up off the stove.  Just enjoy your coffee and buttery, sweet facturas (pastries) and medialunas and don't ask questions.  

1.  When you grow up...


Being my Mother's daughter, I wash every fruit and vegetable I bring home.  I don't just wash them either, I soak them in salt and lemon juice to remove grit, grime and every pesticide within a five mile radius.  It is a good thing that I do, though most supermarkets and produce stands leave everything out in the open with fumes, vapors and the general funk that circulates in a big city.

I figured that this was normal: the Brazilians wash their fruits and vegetables with vinegar and water to the same effect, but Susana has informed me otherwise.  One day, a number of us young, unmarried women were "cooking" happily in the kitchen when Susana came in, sat down at the kitchen table to drink some mate proceeded to observe us.  After a good ten or fifteen minutes she announced that one day, when we grew up and found husbands things would change: we wouldn't hover and stir and piddle with pots of steam vegetables or sauces that were gently reducing.  Pointing at my bowl of soaking fruits/vegetables she said, I wouldn't have time to wash my bananas.  With three little "creaturas" biting at your ankles, she said, I would probably hand the banana to one such chillen' and say, "cómetelo" / ie. feed yourself this.

Top 5s: Cheap Thrills

5 Embarrassingly Affordable Things You Might Miss in Buenos Aires:

Laying awake, attempting to relax last night I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed in myself.  Was it just me, or was that last post desperate?  My problem isn't so much writer's block as writers fatigue.

Unknowingly, I spend so much time mentally blogging the details of my day-to-day that by the time the week winds down and I find myself with a few free hours I just can't figure out what to write about.  You don't even want to see my beautiful leather bound travel journal - my last entry was in March.  There are just too many things that I would like to share with all of you at home.  I'm used to living in Buenos Aires now and I'm doing a rotten job of being a photo snapping, wide-eyed tourist that gushes about every second of the day.  The truth of the matter is, things are pretty tranqui (calm) here.  Don't get me wrong: it is still all hustle-and-bustle and political protesting, but that is the norm.  Suffice it to say, I'm used to it.  There are still a bunch of interesting things going on, though!  I just... well... I mean... este... Okay I just haven't done a good job of telling you about them.

So here goes... in an attempt to stimulate my creativity, organize my thoughts and keep you all reading this wimpy little blog with its generic template and grainy iPod photographs, I would like to welcome you all to the first of multiple installments of my "Top 5 Buenos Aires" series.

And to start off, you know, strong... I give you:

Top 5 "Cheap Thrills" 

Buenos, Aires Argentina 

5.  Virginia is for... tea?

Okay, one is for all you Virginians.  Every time I see this brand in the supermarket I laugh; being from Virginia, I was a fan immediately.  However, no one really understands why the slogan: "The Virginia - Flavors that Conquer" tickles my fancy so much. 

Oh, the things the Virginia Historical Society could say about that...

And while I'm at it, I like to enjoy my cup of La Virginia with these Lincoln biscuits which come in chocolate, coco and traditional.  They really are the perfect accompaniment to a cup of tea with a great crisp texture, moderate thickness and gentle sweetness that holds up to a few solid dunks.  But Lincoln?  The extraordinarily proportioned President that was assassinated by John Wilkes Booth?  What has he got to do with tea time, much less Argentina?  

Cheap thrills total:  (ARS) $9.00 / (US) $2.02 

4.  SUBTE "A" Line 

That's right: public transportation.  I am sure you think I am taking the starving-student thing a little far in putting this on the list, but it's true.  Every time I take the "A" line I get a little adrenaline rush - mostly from the distinctive hot, rubbery smell that permeates every station on this line.  And the fact that the cars, tracks and tunnels are all original and date back to the 1913 - it was the first subway line in Latin America.  Yes, I said 1913.  I love the uncomfortable little benches - if you saw the "new" subway cars with their stained, worn fabric seats you would know why - and the heavy banging of the doors as they slam closed when the train gets moving.  The "A" Line rumbles under one of the most important thoroughfares in the city: Avenida de Mayo.

As charming and typically porteño as the "A" Line is, I can't help but think I'm traveling on a wing and a prayer every time I get onboard.  Once you see the web of underground tunnels, tracks and the hundreds of sinister niches and crannies you'll understand why.  As we say in Spanish: vamos con Dios.

Cheap thrills total: (ARS) $2.50 / (US) $0.56

3.  Milongear: (v). to go to a milonga

There is absolutely no excuse not to go to a milonga if you are in Buenos Aires.  As a tourist (versus a student, ex-pat or other) you will probably be artfully coralled into buying a dinner and tango show package by your hotel, travel agent or some smooth talking hawker on Calle Florida.  Personally, I think going to both a show and a traditional milonga can be perfectly worthwhile and exceptionally instructive, but dinner shows are as entertaining as they are expensive.  Equally as entertaining, and undeniably more romantic, is a traditional milonga.  

What's more, you don't even have to dance.  Most milongas - with the exception of La Catedral - are held in beautiful old buildings and converted resto bars that are worth paying the cover charge just to get inside.  A milonga is nothing more than a dance.  Everyone from couples in their seventies, eager young tango students and groups of ten and fifteen good friends come to milongear; that isn't actually a verb, that's just what we tangueros like to call it. 

While you won't be provided dinner, there is always a small kitchen that provides coffee, wine and beer and simple plates like facturas or tostados.  More often than not there is also a live band.  Cozy - and by cozy I mean impossibly tightly packed - tables and chairs surround a central dance floor allowing those of us with two left feet the perfect place to relax, enjoy the music and be carried away by the dancing or - at the very least - a few pepas caseras (delicious little shortbread cookies with quince jam that usually accompany your beverage of choice).  While milonga, vals and tango de salón appear to have distinctive characteristics and rhythms, I am only just beginning to understand the differences, you will feel right at home from the second you step inside.  Leave your T.V. preconceptions of tango (ie. Dancing with the Stars) at home and prepare yourself for something much simpler and exquisitely authentic.    

Cheap thrills total: (ARS) $30-40 / (US) $6.75 - 9.00  

2.  Rise and Shine @ Teatro Colón 

Don't be surprised if the Colón Theatre makes its way to another future list: Top 5 Favorite Places.  I am desperately in love with Teatro Colón and not just because I like the way the name rolls off my tongue.  I imagine this theatre - and there is a plethora of theatrical spaces in Buenos Aires - as the best foot the city has to put forward.  Clocking in at more than a hundred years old, the Colón took nearly twenty years to build.  The main theater (pictured poorly below) is horseshoe shaped and uses some of the most delicious elements of French and Italian design imaginable.   It is one of the top five theatres in the world and renowned for its acoustics.  Back in April I coughed up la plata to take a guided tour (US $25 for foreigners) which, I will admit, is worth well worth it.  Recently restored, the halls and galleries around absolutely stunning.

But what is even more thrilling is actually going to hear a concert and what better way to do so than... well, with a free ticket!  Monthly, the theater holds classical concerts, about an hour to an hour and a half in length, on Sundays at a robust 11:00am. Featured are Argentine musicians and members of the theater orchestra.  The catch: tickets have to be picked up the Friday morning before the concert.  The ticket office opens at 10:00am and there is always a line so be sure to arrive early - that goes for Sunday morning too since the seats are not numbered.  Of course, there is nothing more touching, or more exciting, than seeing the theatre fill up before a quartet of talented musicians in the midst of one of Latin America's (and arguably the world's) most distinguished theaters.  As you can imagine, I'll be back next month - even if it means getting out of bed, and out of my cucpake pajamas, before noon.

Cheap thrills total: gratis / free

1.  Stage a protest... or just enjoy watching

The fact of the matter is that although there, typically, is some sort of protest, march, stand-off or calle cortada every day in Buenos Aires, at any given time and in any part of the city a tourist would probably miss it.  As a resident (even if only a temporary one) I hear the drums, backfiring tires, honking and chanting from my office building daily and after three months of almost weekly subway strikes I have to admit I am no longer surprised nor generally amused. Argentina is considered one of the most volatile countries in Latin America and I have to agree with the critics.  Argentines are notoriously spirited, emotional and out-spoken; after all, these are the same people who invented the tango, who survived a period of senseless terrorism by the State, a devastating economic crisis and whose first love is, above all else: red meat.  It is no wonder that when the pueblo has something to say, it gets up and shouts at the top of its lungs.  

Most demonstrations are peaceful - like the one pictured above which was celebrating the 36th Anniversary of the end of the Golpe del Estado.  Sure, I've been to perhaps two protests, but I have accidentally participated in a dozen: riding the bus to work, crossing Avenida 9 de Julio, walking to pick-up my vegetarian lunch from the friendly Korean family down the street.  But, why would I put this on my list of cheap thrills?  If there is anything more representative or more typically Argentinian than gathering up a few hundred friends and neighbors, lighting some trashcans on fire and blockading a vital public thoroughfare... I don't know what is.  Maybe tango...

Just keep a cool head and an eye on your wallet if you decide to go.

Cheap thrills total: gratis / free 

Cultural Notes / Vocabulary: 




Calle Florida: (n). a pedestrian only shopping district ending in the elegant Galería Pacífica shopping mall.  Notorious for street performers, pick-pockets and tourists.  Look for cheap leather, electronics and "I LOVE ARGENTINA" memorabilia.  


El Pueblo: (n).  a town or small provincial city; also used to refer to the general body or people of a given place.  Ex. "El pueblo Argentino" / "The Argentine people".  


El Golpe de Estado: (n). A coup; in the 20th century Argentina has experienced 7.  The last, often referred to as "El Terrorismo de Estado" and resulted in the "disappearance" of hundreds of men, women and children.  The echos of this event - to be detailed further in future posts - are still alive and very much in the minds of the people in this country.


Facutura: (n). the Argentine term applied to a wide range of "pastries" including churros, scones, alfajores and tarts.  In other parts of the Spanish speaking world the term "pastel" is often used.


La plata: (n).  Money.   Ex. "No tengo la plata para ir al cine" / "I don't have the cash to go to the movies."


Pepas: (n).  a shortbread like cookie, resembling the American thumb-print cookie, with a dollop of quince jam or, in some cases, dulce de leche or other sweet.  


Resto Bars: (n). a combination bar/restaurant that serves anything from beer and pizza to small plates made to order.  Note: hyphenated words do not exist in Spanish.


Tanguero: (n). a popular term for someone who dances and/or practices Argentine tango.


Tostado: (n). a sandwich composed of ham and cheese or other popular combination: ham and tomato, cheese and olive etc. that is toasted.  The sandwich is much larger than packaged sliced bread, crust-less and (unlike the American grilled cheese) uses no butter.


Tranquila / "tranqui":  (adj).  tran-key-la - used to describe people, places and things. Generally meaning calm, layed-back or relaxed.


"Una cortada" / Cortar la calle: (n). a street no longer than a block to a block and a half long; often unlisted or hard to distinguish on maps.  (v). to stage a protest or otherwise disrupt the flow of traffic on a given street.   


"Vamos con Dios": (fr.) a phrase used to indicate resignation of control.  Literally, "we go with God"

Ciao, ciao!

-S

What's up

in downtown Capital Federal: 

I wouldn't consider myself a country girl; I like to go on vacation to the mountains, to hike and to camp - provided it's only for a few days and I am not required to use a public port-a-potty more than maybe once in an emergency.  I wouldn't consider myself a city girl either, but it's easy to find your own tiny little rhythm in a city like Buenos Aires where foreigners are a dime-a-dozen.  

Nine times out of ten you'll be asked where you are from within the first 10-15 seconds of meeting someone.   They aren't trying to be rude, of course, they are just being direct.  

The hustle and bustle, the lights, the noise - it's the same as any other city.  What makes Buenos Aires so distinctive - for me at least - are the people... even if not all of them are porteños.  

   @ La Sophia c/ Rivadavia - Almagro 

 Take this typical "goodbye luncheon" for Marie.  From left to right: Manuel (Argentine), Mareike Rudolph   (German), Marie Larotte (French) and me.  How did we all meet?  Marie was my roommate for a week... who previously became friends with Mareike our house-mate... who met Manuel through friends... Manuel met Mareike and Marie through the ever more impressive global "couch-surfing" network.

What is even more surprising?  Manuel and Mareike are vegetarians.  That's right: an Argentine and a German.  No "bratwurst" jokes here.    

La Poesía c/ Bolivar y Chile - San Telmo 

But the plot thickens... Take this long weekend back in March, for example.  The redhead: Paloma Tine (French), Little-Old-Me, Mayara Maia (Brazilian).  Oh yes, and Jorge Luis Borges is behind us there on the wall.  How did we all get here?  Well, Mayara moved into the house shortly after I did followed by Paloma. But how did Paloma find us?  Well, she is the younger sister of Marie's good friend from Paris who just happened to be traveling to Argentina and looking for a room in Buenos Aires for a month.  

And to top it all off... what are we doing in this delightful little Resto-Bar?  We're waiting on an Argentine and a Venezuelan we met (again through couch surfing).

Did I mention how long we waited for the Argentine?  It's a given: if you want to eat at 10:00pm, tell them dinner is at 8:30 (at the least).

As much as I like meeting people, it is never fun to have to say goodbye - and even less so when you've been up since 5:40 like I was (in this photo) to go to a riveting conference on raising "broilers" in a city called Pilar - about an hour outside of the Capital.    

Of course, as we say in castellano "vale la pena" ... that is to say, it's worth it; even if it means saying goodbye sometimes.

Bs As: The Most Dangerous City in the world.

When it comes to sweets... you're in serious trouble.

As an American I sometimes wonder how foreign women - most notably the French - are able to keep such slick, chic figures considering the culinary figureheads that are undeniably representative of the culture: wine, cheese, pastries and buttery sauces.  People even wrote books about it.

In Spain I attributed the generally svelte bodies of the youthful (female) population to the centuries old European metabolism that, unluckily, we lost when we won the war with Britain.  A small concession, I guess.  But the truth is I'm just a little jealous my country gets tagged for being... well... fat.  Statistically, I guess, we can't deny it, but I feel the pangs of jealousy every I see a couple sipping beautiful, foamy full-fat coffees... without even the tiniest grain of guilt.  Life is to be enjoyed, right.  RIGHT?!

Please tell that to my metabolism so it can - you know - get with the program.  Preferably, the Argentine program.  One day, they are going to arrest me for banging tearfully on cafe windows and drooling on pastry cases the city over.

Maybe it is just what your body gets used to processing on a daily basis that shields locals from the the packing-it-on that, as a foreigner, appears inevitable when traveling and living abroad.  Arriving in Latin America I had no idea what to expect as far as culinary norms, but every country, it appears, is distinctive.  In Uruguay and Argentina breakfast is nothing more than toast and coffee or medialunas (a smaller, even more buttery version of the French croissant sometimes lightly glazed) and a café cortado (coffee cut generously with steamed, whole milk).  Not so far away is Colombia: a country which enjoys eggs, toast, coffee and pastries for breakfast.  In Argentina, you will never find an egg on your plate before 2:00 or 3:00pm.  It just isn't done.

Recently I made an omelet for a friend of mine who was visiting.  It was 9:30am.  I used three eggs.  Susana, upon entering the kitchen, instead of being wowed by my culinary adeptness - if you saw the pan and utensil set-up we've got here you would know why - she exclaimed: "Three eggs?!  For breakfast?  That just isn't healthy."

But where am I going with this?  Don't be taken in... the Argentine diet consists of three staple foods: beef, empanadas and pizza and is in no way to be revered as "healthy" much less "balanced".  I mean that kindly.  I love empanadas and, what I've discovered, is that I love dulce de leche even more.  I have been beating around the bush for a month and a half now about this stuff and I think - considering I've don't a little plumping since my arrival in February - it is time we all came to terms with the mysterious, devilishly good nature of the Argentine delicacy.  (Well, it's pretty damn popular in Chile and Uruguay too).

That's right... you just leave the spoon right in it.  Disclaimer: I have never purchased a jar of dulce de leche for my consumption.  This is not my jar and that is no my spoon.

Dulce de leche, by definition, is created by simmering milk and sugar slowly over a low heat until it changes color through caramelization and thickens due to the evaporation of water in the milk.  The result is a sinfully creamy spread that can be smeared, piped... folded or dipped into with almost anything you can image.  Popular vessels for dulce de leche here in Argentina include pastries, churros, ice cream, bonbons, toast on a day to day basis and, of course, el alfajore.

So when I say that Buenos Aires is one of the most dangerous cities in the world... I mean it.  Dangerous for your health, your waistline and your self-esteem...

A few examples... 

(Dieters beware)

This was modestly described as as dessert for two... two what, I ask?!  Of course, I could have killed it all on my own if given a dark room, privacy and the promise of a personal trainer afterwards.

A traditional pastry from the town of San Pedro outside of Buenos Aires, *filled* with dulce de leche and pastry cream.

If it is something sweet... nine times out of ten there is dulce de leche involved.  No doubts.  No exceptions.  This is Argentia.

An alfajore, being about as distinctive and popularly associated with Argentina as mate, is unofficially the national cookie.  I don't know if we can have national cookies - like birds or trees - but if the title exists, then in Argentina it is a fat little alfajore, oozing dulce.  For those of you who might remember, I wrote a short in college entirely from the perspective of a Boston Cream Donut just to give my professor something to gripe about and I am considering a second installment...  

But what is an alfajore exactly?  I asked myself the same question about a month and  half ago.  Essentially these treats are made by sandwiching two soft, barely sweet cookies with dulce de leche and, finally, coating the whole thing in chocolate.  Revolting, isn't it?

In Argentina, when you're feeling peckish after tea time you eat an alfajore.  When your children are pestering you in the check-out line you buy them an alfajore to hush them up.  When you skipped lunch or you're late for work (rare because lateness isn't as strictly frowned down upon here) what do you eat: an alfajore.  Sure, you can find them occasionally in the States, but every street corner, every 24 hour kiosk, grocery store, confitería or bakery has alfajores available... 24-7  They range in size from a silver dollar (with a good inch and half of dulce de leche filling) to the size of a grown mans palm.  Most commonly you find them lined up in little metallic and brightly colored wrappers, *begging* to be eaten.  

I tear up just thinking about this.  It was my first, but not my last.

I have to say that my research so far has been limited to "simples" - that is to say alfajores with just one layer of dulce.  "Triples" are another story entirely: consisting of three cookies and two layers of dulce de leche.  Considering the previously mentioned plumping... perhaps that is for the best.

Getting away in Uruguay

Colonia and Montevideo:

Has it really been that long since I posted anything?  Wow.  You'll have to forgive me - I have been taking wonderful photos to show you.  

Take a trip with me to Uruguay - my most recent getaway.  Although Colonia is a popular crossing point for Visa dodging tourists (less than an hour by speed boat ferry from Bs As) it really does warrant a visit.  Luckily, I had to the chance to go with a friend of mine over the weekend: 

We caught the 8:30am ferry from Puerto Madero, and after going through some very haphazard customs, we boarded our boat right on (Argentine) time: 9:00.  Even though there were no seats left on board, we enjoyed sipping coffees at one of the cafe tables near the center of the ship.  It was, possibly, my favorite part of the trip.... well, at least as far as traveling goes.

We got to Colonia and quickly booked bus tickets to Montevideo for that evening.  Once the logistics were out of the way we were free to enjoy the beautiful weather (clear, breezy and only about 72 degrees)...

Colonia is one of only a few places that still feels charming, laid back and inviting even when it's up to its eyeballs in Easter weekend tourists.

Antique cars abound in Colonia - making it even more quaint.

We shared a traditional asado (or paradilla I'm not sure) for two at this cafe complete with cow: brains, intestine, ribs, liver and the welcome sausage... and not so welcome blood sausage.  The biggest language barrier I have come across in Latin America so far has been on restaurant menus - of all things.   Although I asked specifically if "salchicas" (sausages) came with the entree - and the waiter replied no - look what made it to our table with the  rest of our half a cow... sausages.  That said... thank goodness.

One can only eat so much brain in public.

Did I mention that there was also a liberal liter and half of sangria to help... wash it down.  Thank goodness.

Although summer may be a more popular time to go... early fall is the perfect time to see Colonia.

The Rio de la Plata has a beautiful "ocean" style breeze and plenty of majestic look out points to relax and enjoy the quiet that only a small town can provide.

In Montevideo the color clears up a bit, but I sort of like to imagine it as a dreamy "sea" of chocolate milk.  On clear days you can see the coast of Uruguay - which is lush and green and studded with rocks - from Puerto Madero in Buenos Aires.  In Montevideo (the capital of Uruguay) the river opens up even more and becomes, more or less, it's own little ocean.

The trip to Montevideo - about two and a half hours by bus - was only made less enjoyable by the constant coughing on a small toddler who, apparently, had la gripe recently.  Although it made me nervous, I vowed to drink some delightful immune system boosting tea (newly arrived in a delightful care package) as soon as I set foot back in Buenos Aires.  Otherwise, the seats were comfortable and the driver didn't drive like a bat out of hell like some others so we even caught a little shut eye before getting to the "big city".

Our first priority in Montevideo: dinner; luckily, "chivitos" are a traditional Uruguayan dish and they are, without a doubt, the most delicious thing I've eaten so far in my time South of the Border.

Thinly pounded chicken breast, grilled to perfection, sandwiched by lettuce, tomato, mayonnaise, green olives, ham, cheese and about two and half hard boiled eggs.  The bun was liberally toasted too - just the way I like it.  A chivito is sort of whatever the chef/house declares it to be.  At another restaurant it came on a plate (no bun) with ham, cheese, a fried egg and lots of shredded vegetables to pile on top.  You wouldn't believe it, but it is really delectable.  Get ready... because when I get back there is going to be a serious Chivito Movement in Richmond Virginia.

                                

I was convinced that despite Hollywood's best effort, I would not be scared away from staying in my first hostel.  "La Posada del Sur" was rated superb so I figured why not give it a go!  After all, it was only for one night.  Although Ciudad Vieja is a little sketchy after midnight - and not a place to be out and about during the wee hours of the morning - the hostel was as clean as it was charming.  It is also "sustainable" and featured an amazing breakfast of home baked organic breads, succulent jams (including a kiwi walnut that was to die for) and local butter.  The rooftop patio - resplendent with hammocks and some squat wooden deck furniture - paired beautifully with a bottle of rose after a day of seeing the sites.

In Ciudad Vieja looking out over Rio de la Plata.

I tentatively stalked around in the surf at this beach downtown just because it was *that* inviting.  I even picked through some shells and stones that had washed up in little nests on the shore.  There are paved river walkways (called Ramblas) that run along the main road, more or less, all around the city.  The side walks were packed with people drinking mate, taking a stroll with friends or just lazily fishing.   Although the water was a bit chilly, I don't think I could have imaged a more perfect weekend to have visited Uruguay...

...Even if I left more than a little bit tired and foot-sore.