I've hypothesized that one of the reasons for the ensuing wilderness of these parts is the lack of decent food. Everyone knows, from the halls of Montezuma to the walls of Tripoli that America has the best food in the world. God being one of the founding fathers was also the first American Chef.
Argentina's meat is deplorable. It is not hard nor fatty. Instead of burning the outside to a crisp to a gasoline powered flame while the inside remains frozen straight from the meat packer (to keep the hormonal effect) like we do in America, their beef is soft and flavorful, generally slow cooked to an open wood-fire. There's not even any steak sauce to be found! How is one to ingest a healthy dose of high fructose corn syrup this way?
The trials I'm facing here seem to have no end. I was escorted by some locals to a "parrilla"*. In this dreadful honky-tonk the backwardness of third world countries is fully exposed. A man in a filthy getup violently tossed wooden plates on a surface officiating as a table. Quite a stretch in my opinion, but it is unfair to compare advanced societies with their less gifted brethren.
The culinary nightmares did not end there. When one of my shirpas deciphered the menu for me my choice was that of a skirt steak. I recalled wise Charley's words:
"When ya' dout, skertsteek's da way. Nut ev'n dem Apache coulda mess dat wun up!"
What that primeval version of a waitperson brought from the back was truly appalling. Two sizzling brown skirt steaks glittering on a metal grill, pink on the inside. Mouthwatering if I had been a caveman! "El sauzo del steak-o senor." No answer would follow. It is no coincidence that this grub was the equivalent of nine US dollars.
The night would end with a huge attempt at desert they call "panqueque de dulce de leche." Truly scandalous. The lack of decorum of this society was materialized on that plate. And these are my burdens at the moment.
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*pah-rrEE-shiah
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