Mataderos

After a nice lazy Sunday rise at 12 pm Stuart and I made coffee and planned out our day. We felt a bit cooped up this week and jumped at Bruce’s invitation to take a day trip to Mataderos.

 

In English Mataderos translates to “slaughterhouse”. Mataderos is a section of Buenos Aires traditionally known for its live stock market and meat packing. Cattle were brought to Mataderos to be killed and shipped to other parts of the country. Some times Mataderos is refered to as the new Chicago.

 

 

Our day however had much more to do with merriment and gaiety rather than carnage and gore.

 

Every Friday and Sunday the neighborhood of Mataderos hosts a bustling street fair.

 

We descended into masses. Street vendors, artisans, and entertainers packed in around the center square as passer bys made there way through. Unlike San Telmo we saw far less tourists, mostly just Argentine families spending a day outside for great food and shopping.

We were surrounded by smoking grills, traditional song and dance, artisan wines, massive knives, leather goods, mate gords, trotting horses, leather faced toothless gauchos with riding crops the size of base ball bats. At one point we even saw a performer charging people $2 to beat a fake cat with a stick.

 

We stopped to watch dancers perform Zamba, a traditional folk dance. Couples line up facing each other stepping forward and back. Quick steps take them circling around eachother as the women playfully wave scarves above their heads.

 

Stuart and I were impressed by the quality of the crafts. Especially  the hand made leather bags and engraved knives. We wandered around admiring the artisanship before looking for the group. We were told “ 3 pm pink café on the corner.” And laughed when we discovered half the buildings are one shade of pink or another.

 

We found Bruce waiting on the corner of the hot pink café directly across from the band stand. We all agreed to be hungry and headed for the smoke. Mataderos is a great place for parilla. You can also find traditional foods from the province like tamahles (steam corned husks stuffed with xyz) and locro ( a delicious meaty white bean stew). 

 

We opted for churipans and an $8 peso bottle of Vino Patero, Cab Sauv. The vendor informed us they produce less than 4,000 liters per year. Fruity but better than what I could produce in my basement.

 

Much more talkative after having been satiated we made our way to the track. We missed the spectacle but Gauchos, which are essentially Argentine cowboys line up and bolt like bats out of hell towards the finish line. Each carries a small metal spear which at full speed they must pierce through a metal loop dangling from the finish line. They charge closely past grandmothers, bundled babies and clumsy children, very exciting.

As they wrapped up gauchos paraded around on their horse as a few children pranced around on ponies and mules. We even saw a dog riding a horse. We made our way back and finished out the afternoon with a beer at the hot pink café.

Stu World Class Au-Pair

We arrived at Alcira at 7 with a bottle of cheap pinot in hand and empty
stomachs.  Mine was particularly empty due to a bout of what we believe to be
self inflicted food poisoning.  Her grandsons, Juan and Augustin and her
answered the door and we headed upstairs.
There I was put in charge of babysitting a 3 and 6 year old, who I did not know,
good not understand well and did not have the patience for my slow Spanish.  We
began by cracking walnuts, which was going well and good until Augustin decided
that we should play tennis in the house, so he raced into the other room to ask
for a tennis ball, which he was quickly denied (thankfully).   I was then told
to keep them out of the kitchen and Ashley and Alcira were making a ricotta
cake.  I tried to draw their attention by smash a walnut with my hand on the
floor.  For some reason Juan thought this meant it that he should thought the
nuts on the ground and stomp on them.  Not wanting to hurt the kid, cause him
to cry or call for help we began a game where Juan would throw a bunch of nuts
on the floor and I would try to snatch them out from under his stomping feet.
I got bored of this game quickly, and gave up to a degree.
After finally stomping on a couple Juan became bored and decided a better use of
his time would  be to throw the nuts under the couch.  “Que haces?” (what are
you doing) I asked him repetedly.  For all I know he attempted to explain it to
me, but a foreign language spoken in toddler talk is impossible to understand.
On his final trip to the couch he step on and spilt the bowl of nuts all over
the floor.  Augustin called for Alcira and I, suddenly aware of how large a
mess I allowed these kids to make scramble to put them back in the basket.
Augustin then did one of the most diabolical older brother things I have ever
since a sibling do.  He stopped me.  He actively removed the nuts from the
baskets as I plucked them out, making sure that by the time Alcira got there it
was a full blown mess that he could paste on his little brother.  It was at that
time I decided that both of these kits were just evil and I used the only weapon
I know how to use against children.  Trading cards based on Japanese cartoons.
This mollified Augustin and Juan reverted to watching TV.  And all was right in
the world.
I was feeling pretty horrible at my attempt at baby sitting until dinner.  It
became apparent that I was not ready for these two kids.  Alcira, a mother of
four, seemed as though throttling them had crossed her mind more than once, and
their father Ben was a jungle-gym as he hand fed both of them at once.
The food and company was great and my ability to understand Spanish has
progressed to the point that I get most conversation.  Ashley and I were both
stuffed to the gills on a milled the had a soup course, main course and two
desserts.

Canadian Roast

Thursday normally marks a trip to Nigel’s for his wine tastings.  However it was a guest tasting and the price was a little high and in an effort to save a little bit of money we just went out to dinner with Bruce instead.  Bruce brought along 3 of his classmates from Spanish class.  We returned to the same Peruvian restaurant that we ate with him the week before and between the six of us we ate one and a half chickens, a few pounds of French fries and salads and two bottles of Malbec that Bruce donated to the cause.  One of Bruce’s classmates was Canadian and she unfortunately was on the receiving end of a large number of poorly crafted Canadian jokes.  His other two classmates were Brazilian.  One of them spoke six different languages (in varying degrees, but 3 fairly fluently).  We talked a lot during dinner, much about comparing cultures, how men and women related and what to do in Buenos Aires (Ashley Edit: And mostly about how much Canada sucks.)
On Saturday we headed off with the intention of going to the modern art museum, stopping by the English book store and picking up a canvas for Ashley to paint of (as I hauled all her paints here for her and she has yet to actually touch them).  Unfortunately the modern art museum was closed for renovations, the English books store was a little pricey and low in selection, and the art store was closed.  Instead we purchased a book aimed at “young adults” in Spanish, and made a trip to a Parrilla that Ashley wanted to show me.  I obliged her request, and struggled through my greasily delicious blood sausage sandwich. 
We spent the afternoon butchering the Spanish version of “Artemis Fowl” out loud to each other.  Sunday we are planning to host an Asado, which we had to research both how to cook and what to cook.  The first answer was complex, as some parts you cook slow and some hot and fast, but the second was easy: everything.

Stuart, Grill Master

Checking the weather report everything was a go for Sunday. Saturday night we sent invitations to some friends for an impromptu bbq on our terrace.

 

Sunday morning we set out for fresh pickings at our local supermarket. The butcher seemed skeptical of two eager Americans preparing an Argentine asado. Where were we going to grill? And what were we doing buying meat on a Sunday? Everyone knows the fresh kill is delivered on Saturday.

 He interrogated us some more as he portentously hacked at slabs of meat with his colossal gleaming knife. He filled the order giving us one last quizzical look before wishing us luck.

 

We turned the lock and Stu bolted to the terrace, setting to work immediately heating the coals. I took a second trip to the store for wine, beer, soda and other fixings. My absence left me in the dark about much of the grilling ritual. I returned to the smell of seared meat and the sound of Skynard.

 

We read online about cooking a few of the curious cuts. One site instructed the following “Lay meat on grill. Leave it alone and drink a beer. Finish beer, turn meat” Done.

 

By 2:45 Stuart had single handedly prepared a full Argentine asado. We relaxed a bit and chased Carlos around the terrace as we awaited the arrival of our guests.

We became nervous after an hour passed with no sign of our guests. Worse yet the sky darkened and it began to rain. We had enough meat for 10-12 people.

 

As we moved the food downstairs we became scared that the rain had deterred our guests. As we calculated ways to use up the meat during the week we heard the doorbell. Moments later our kitchen was filled. Bruce brought some of his friends including the Canadian, the Brazilians and his son. We uncorked the wine and carved the meat.

 

We had a great time and made merry in traditional 4^th of July fashion. The festivities carried on into the evening. We wound up at a near by bar called El Federal. Stu and I returned home proclaiming the day as a huge success.

Peruvian Dive and China Town

After a long day of internet research on various segments of the international wine market and real estate in Beunos Aires it is nice to unwind with a glass of vino. Stuart is cooking a spicy curry dish to accompany our fragrant splurge on 2008 Domingo Molina Torrontes (retail $14.99 in the states).

 

Flashing back to last Thursday we attended Nigel’s (0800 vinos) weekly tasting which  featured 4 wines from Bodega Tapiz. We used our $25 peso credit to satisfy our curiosity for a recommendation from an aquaintence at  aprevious tasting. We strolled out with a bottle of the torrontes before heading to dinner at a Peruvian dive with our new friend Bruce, a sommelier from Denver.

 

Abasto is a historic tango barrio in Buenos Aires, with many Milongas and older buildings. Currently there are many Peruvian and Bolivian residents. This is no Palermo or Recoletta and makes for some of the best cheap eats in the city.

 

Bruce invited us to dine with his Australian friend at a traditional Peruvian grill. We noted the Brazilian SoapOpera playing on the 12 inch and the contrasting purple and red walls. But we ordered Pollo en brazas for 4 which included water, and massive heaps of salad and fries for less than 60 pesos total (about$4 dollars each). They even let us uncork our own wine free of charge, a bottle of Tapiz Sauv Blanc from Nigel’s cellar.

 

After the meal the weekend flew by. Friday we worked and then had a farewell party for Sophia, who departed for Germany yesterday. Saturday Stuart and I went to Belgrano to Barrio Chino. On our walk across the train tracks we observed a very Argentine phenomenon; fast approching train, agressive cars… The man featured here hoisted the saftey barrier to let honking Portenos pass in haste across the rails to Av. Libertador.

   

As you could imagine this part of town is home to many Chinese immigrants and is one of the best places for spice shopping. We enjoied a nice stroll through the neighborhood and bought a bundle of curries, peppers and herbs. Stuart explained his love for Dim Sum on Sundays in North Carolina as he nibbled (destroyed) a 6 pack of pork dumplings. Someday we will return to try the slow cooked chicken feet.

 

Sunday we considered a day trip to San Izidro but decided it was wiser to stay home and work. For Anuva we have been conducting a lengthy market study on trends in wine consumption and sales.

We recieve some happy news this week. My brother in-law’s sister, Sarah is getting hitched. And in two weeks Chip, Stu’s dad will be in Buenos Aires for business… we can’t wait. Most of tonight will be spent getting excited for his visit.

Salsa, Eye of the Tiger and a Gay Dance Club

1-2-3 and 5-6-7. Friday night before going out Stu and I headed up to the terrace. It was an unusually warm evening. We sat out looking at the sky, drinking beer and listening to music. It’s so quiet on the roof.

  

I can’t recall the last time I sat out under the stars. When walking around the city your focus is confined to the sidewalks and immediate surroundings, advertisements, buildings etc. I spend 25% of my day not getting plowed down by a bus and avoiding dog poop. It is easy to forget about the simple pleasure of watching the night sky. Watching the clouds roll by made me think of my friends and family and how much time has passed since we last saw each other.

 

Stu downloaded a salsa instructional video on You Tube. He had taken a few lessons in the past and showed me the most basic steps, I almost got the turn. There is a bar near by that offers salsa lessons on Wed nights. We are thinking about taking a few classes together.

 

After the dance lesson we joined my roommates at a local dance hall. Andrea is dating a ballerina from Peru who is very involved in the Tango scene.

Stu and I split a beer which he followed up with a glass of house wine filled to the brim and sloshing over the sides. Two sips in the MC made an announcement. One of the dancers had prepared a special performance to two Hip Hop songs.

 

The crowd waited in hushed anticipation. My expectations were high, a graceful Argentine moving to M Jackson. This was going to be good.

 

The music blasted and a boy about my age came out wearing a tight shirt and cowboy hat. He jerked his arms and contorted his body, sliding and springing across the dance floor. I half expected him to start taking his clothes off.

 

Stuart rightfully observed that this routine felt unrehearsed but familiar. Like watching a shy kid at a college party with 5 too many drinks in him.  I imagine everyone else in the room had the same reaction, but I could not take my eyes off the spectacle to confirm.

 

We were pushed into deeper confusion when the second song started and the dancer repeated the same moves but this time to “Eye of the Tiger” by Survivor.  He had long since thrown off his cap to some lucky belle in the crowd.  The set ended and the lights came back on. I sat there stunned. Was this a joke? I am still not sure.

 

We prepared to head home. 2 am is when I fade. As we grabbed our coats Sophia protested with just cause. It was her last weekend in BA, we had to go out. We hopped in a cab with Lisa and her towards a club. On the way I noted Stu’s gained confidence with his Spanish. He started talking to the cabbie about soccer. I imagine the glass of house wine helped.

 

We arrived at AMERIKA, a trendy gay club in the city. Sophia chose this spot for the $35 pesos entrance which includes all the sissy pink drinks you want.

  

We walked into see a large futuristic dance floor packed with decent looking men hoping around to techno music. There were some ladies there as well with big brawny shoulders and full beards. Buenos Aires is well known for its gay scene, but I had never been to a gay club.

 

We had a good time and danced around.  To each their own, but as a boring 24 year old I am oriented towards an early bed time. 4:30 am was pushing it for me. We headed home and went to bed. My roomies stayed out until 6 or 7. Apparently in the summer they turn part of the club into a giant bubble party, filling the dance floor with foam. I kept Stuart close at my side. He had been warned not to go in the fun tunnel, “where anyone is fair game.”

 

 

Saturday couldn’t really compete with the craziness of Friday but was more my style. We slept in. Around 4 we headed to Recoletta for an afternoon visit to the Bellas Artes Museum. Later that night we drank some wine and cooked a nice dinner of steak and brusselsprouts. Sometimes I think I was born 45.

 

(Stuart Edit: Grampy can I get the recipe for the brusselsprouts you made at Thanksgiving? Or was it Christmas? ).

Cuisine y Vins 2009

Cuisine and Vin Every year Buenos Aires has a wine event called Cuisine and Vins. This year it was last week and we attended half for pleasure, half for work. This meant of course that we had to go twice to get a full visit of fun out of it AND to get a full visit of work out of it, since we are such responsible young adults (and the free passes helped as well.) For an event called Cuisine and Vin one notice an incredible lack of Cuisine, which seemed to be represented by bread sticks, Olive Oil, a pasta stand and an ice cream stand. Mixed with the 50 different wineries, some of whom had wines that required a LOT of food to clear ones palate, and it was actually slightly a fault. The good wine however (here’s looking at you Dante Robino 2006 Bonarda) was really good; enough to make you wonder what producers of lesser quality wines were thinking putting their booths so close to the others. Eventually I noticed that cup size and amount of skin being displayed by the wine representatives was inversely proportional to the quality of wine that the booth had. As sexist as it is I started to focus my attentions on the stalls manned by balding men over 50, hopefully with a mustache. I actually worked out pretty well.

Sunday Lunch with Alcira

Sunday we had Alcira over for lunch. I nagged Stuart into moving my desk out of the loft and down below, thus, converting the den into a dining room. For the occasion I made a roast beef and Stuart made a nice salad with goat cheese.

 

It was great to see Alcira. It had been just after Easter since our last get together. With such an inconsistent schedule it is hard to make plans. We caught up on family, work, and politics. I let Stu deal with the politics.

 

For dessert we had a giant flan. After she left we put in a movie. I had put off watching the Godfather for a long time, afraid the graphic violence would bother me. Horse heads in bed and gangsters didn’t sound like my style. But, oh, what a film.

 

Over the course of Coppola’s 3 hour masterpiece Stuart devoured the entire flan, washing it all down with his beloved nectar wine.

 

Sunday night Stuart and I joined Sophia for a drink at the Red Door bar across the street. Afterwards we made the short walk to Lenny’s house to listen to his band play. They are getting really good. We danced and headed home towards the end of the set.

 

Monday was a holiday. So, as you may have guess we rented the Godfather II. Brilliant as well. Later that night we headed to a little candle lit bar not far from our house. We split a pitcher of Sangria and talked about traveling again. On a large screen the bar played an Amy Winehouse concert. We watched her frail drugged out frame balance her large beehive hair as she belted out “Me & Mr. Jones”.

Operation Pajamas

 

 

We really need to get better about the frequency of our blogs. Where to start, probably with something funny…

 

Saturday morning, or rather late Saturday afternoon Stuart and I woke up and set out on a misson. Operation “Eat Delicious Churi Pans and Find Stuart Pajamas Pants because Buenos Aires is Cold.” 

The original plan also included a stop over in the city’s Armory Museum, which unfortunately was closed.

 

We set out to Maipu Street where Stuart brought me to a whole-in-the-wall parilla, our favorite type of place.

 

He had passed the dive early in the week and insisted I try “The best churi-pan”.

For those unfamiliar with this delicacy a churi-pan is a typical street food in AR; spicy chorizo sausage grilled and placed lovingly in delicious bread, topped with chimichurry, Argentina’s tangy sauce.

 

He may have been right. The Churi pan was pretty good, even better with beer and the giant veal sandwich he ordered to go along with it. Grando total $22.50 pesos

 

  

(Stuart’s Note:  If you are not aware of what a “parrilla” is I will fill you in.  A parrilla is, in essence, a grill, and that is all that is necessary.  Some parrillas are sit down restaurants frequented by tourists, others are… not so much.  Some are single rooms, half of which are a giant grill, where the remains of various animals roast merrily on a carbon encrusted grate.  You order directly from the guy at the grill, and pay at the cash register.  If there is a place to sit down (normally in short supply, and occupied by grizzled Porteños gobbling meat, bread and beer) you may do so as you wait for your order.  There are a variety of things to order, but we stick to the Churripan (Chorizo sandwich) and sandwich de Lomo (Steak sandwich) though in this instance I ventured WAY off the reservation and got a sandwich de Milanesa (veal sandwich) for which I was rewarded with a giant sandwich, which ACTUALLY contained vegetables.)

 

With full bellies we wandered up Florida Street, avoiding the people hustling leather products and passing out flyers. After stopping in a few shops and listening to Peruvian Flute Players pipe out “Ava Maria” we found a pair on sale.

 

Upon check out we learned the 49 pesos pants were bottom to a set. The clerk returned with a traditional button up top, baby blue size XL.

 

Later that night after we returned home. I heated up dinner and forgot about our purchase. Looking up from the stove I noticed Stuart strutting into the room in full garb. I am not sure which description works better; 1. an over grown baby dancing around shaking his butt or 2. a tired old man in grandpa-jamas. Either way hysterical.

 

During the time between pajama shopping and our return home we headed to Las Canitas. We had some time to kill before my 7 pm in-company tasting for Anuva. So, we walked around the neighborhood I mentioned once before, this time armed with cameras. We stopped into the Natural Deli, an organic restaurant/ whole foods shop/ yoga studio.

 

At 7 we met up with Daniel and Lourdes. The tasting was short only 9 wines, 6 were from Lourdes’ trip to Salta. I tried my first Argentine dessert wine. The smell reminded me of Halloween candy or Mary-Jane caramels. At the end of the tasting we took 3 bottles including the dessert wine.

 

    

Choking on Cubed Ham

We were relieved to finally enroll Stu into Spanish classes at the University of Buenos Aires. Monday-Thursday he will take afternoon classes. I work from about 10-7 everyday. In the evenings we cook dinner, drink wine and go to events.

 

Last Thursday I went to Spanglish, a speed date style language exchange. Every Tuesday-Thursday Spanglish offers a chance to practice language skills and meet new people. $15 pesos includes admission and a cocktail.

 

Friday before heading out Stu, and I drank a little wine and snacked on some cheese. The grocery store delis here sell ready made picadas, small assortments of meat, cheese and olives.

 

While unwrapping, a sizeable cube of ham  fell to the floor and was forgotten. Moments later an aggressive growling  came from below. We looked down to see Carlos choking merrily on the ham. When Stuart tried to retrieve the meat from him the cat became wild and scratched violently.  The kitten refused to release and clamped down. Stu felt the need to reprimand the cat, although I am sure he could easily relate to the feline’s drooling lust for cured pork products.

grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr