Sunday, March 4th, 2012
Just when I thought being in Bariloche couldn’t get more
sublime—it did. Because I remembered that the town is known for its ice cream
and chocolate. Walking back down Mitre, it took approximately 10 seconds to
encounter the treasure we were seeking. Gus needed his fix right away and got a
¼ kilo of ice cream. In case you didn’t read my blog about Argentine food
basics, I will briefly explain ice cream the ice cream here: if the best Italian
gelato had a sweet little love child with Ben and Jerry’s, it would be
Argentine ice cream. The texture is smooth like gelato and served in the same
style, but still firm enough that it’s not completely gelato. And instead of
ill-fitting rounded scoops, they scoop them in gigantic cone shapes so that you
can actually eat your cone safely knowing that it’s not going to plop right out
of the cone.
I held out knowing that I was really in the mood for chocolate.
After Gus mercilessly devoured his quarter kilo, we went to Rapa Nui. It had a
Wonka-esque look about it with its purple décor and chocolate fountain pumping
in a window. I fell victim as soon as the scent penetrated my nostrils. Luckily
the prices were high enough to keep me from eating everything and I tried the
Marroc (like Reese’s kind of, but without all the chemicals), milk chocolate
with almonds and the mil de hojas
which were thin layers of chocolate separated by thin layers of dulce de leche. It’s day one, Nikki…try
to conserve the choc…oh did you eat all of it already? Should we get more, then?
Later we met up with Ryan to get dinner at El
Boliche de Alberto (which is not actually a boliche, but a parilla).
As you guys know, I have revised my food philosophy to 'Argentarian' whilst I
am here, meaning the occasional consumption of legitimate Argentine beef is OK
because in addition to it being a cultural necessity, the quality of meat here
is actually maintained. While Ryan and Angela split the bife de lomo,
Gus and I opted for the bife de chorizo with a huge plate of fries
amongst the 4 of us. Although chorizo is a type of sausage, it’s
definitely not sausage when you’re talking about steak in Argentina. Not long
after we ordered, our meal arrived and our eyes feasted upon the sight just as
much as we feasted upon the steak. Just like my previous experience at a parilla grill, the meat exceeded all
expectations of what meat is and should be.
I KNOW Eating Animals
is one of my favorite books ever written and there is no way to justify eating
meat other than “it tastes good”, but eating this meat transcended what any of
you may consider to be eating meat. It was a symphony for all the senses and
the beef melted on my tongue. This is the kind of meat that would be offended
by A1, ketchup or any additional flavorings or sauces because it alone
represents the perfection of flame and flesh. I feel bad for eating meat, but
at the same time, imagine if everybody only ate the best meat on earth just
once a month. And Argentina has millions more cows than it does people, so I
guess they have some to spare…I’m sorry cows. When I return, I’ll treat you as
the precious Hindu object of worship you are.
And not a scrap was left on the table.
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