senorsuitcase
Registered
- Joined
- Aug 11, 2010
- Messages
- 58
- Likes
- 34
The parts of a cow that you don't read about in the brochures:
So the votes are in and I have a little under a year to work my way through an entire cow (apologies to anyone who thought it was going to be a one-sitting affair – I’m greedy, not suicidal). The challenge actually got underway just before voting had ended. You see, there’s a parrilla (grill restaurant) approximately ten nautical steps from the door of our block (well, twelve, if you count the shimmy around the dog poo). And after ten days here, it was becoming impolite to keep walking past. So last Saturday, me and my furry companion (he’s growing the mullet anyway) stepped out for our first steak.
At this point, it would be easy to come over all Michael Winner: the endless expanse of rippling flesh, the crisp layer of golden fat, the flame-licked crust and velvety interior. Ahhhhh. But really, this was just a great piece of meat cooked on a proper fire by a guy who chargrills cow in his sleep. I couldn’t have been happier if it was being served by a dwarf on a tricycle.
So we returned to our apartment and ticked off sirloin and rump on our meat map. An easy start. Only a couple of days later, however, on our debut at the famous La Cabrera parrilla, things started to get a bit weird. Luckily, the combination of bad Spanish and even worse biology allowed us to remain blissfully unaware that a molleja de corazon (yes please, sounds delicious) is actually a pancreas. Molleja de cuello? Ooo why not? Thymus, yummy. [NB: Bad Idea #47: Wikipedia-ing offal parts. I’m not a squeamish person – I’ll even eat the odd McDonald’s Chicken Nugget – but the word ‘secrete’ should never be used in the same sentence as a food item.]
So, La Cabrera gave us our first taste of the famous ‘mollejas’, which the Argentineans go totally (lady) Gaga for. With good reason. Palm-sized and lighter in colour than steak, with a rich lamb-y flavour and nicely charred exterior, mollejas bear more resemblance to a really good fillet steak than school dinner liver. Just when we’re starting to feel like this grill can make anything taste good, the kidneys arrive, as tough and organ-like as I remember. NEXT!
And so back to our local, Don Julio, where Don and amigos dished me up some chinchulines (*new favourite word), the cow’s small intestine, which comes off the grill in a crispy little disc shape that doesn’t resemble the long sausage-y thing you see in biology lessons at all. My regular (well, alright, only) dining companion had succumbed to Argentina’s other great passion – futbol – so this was a solo experience, just me (at a table for four), a bottle of agua sin gas (in an ice bucket) and a hearty plate of grilled digestive tract. Bliss.
Nearing the end of our first official week of cow-nsumption, we’ve worked our way through the greatest hits collection (sirloin, rump, tenderloin & ribeye), some surprising B-sides (pancreas, thymus, intestines) and a predictable urine-processing flop (kidneys). Over our next two weeks in Buenos Aires, we’ll be concentrating on the juicy bits, before picking up the offal (en?)trail again when we head to Patagonia and leave the city and its delicate urban sensibilities behind. Next stop: udders.
Señor Suitcase
www.senorsuitcase.com
http://www.twitter.com/senorsuitcase
So the votes are in and I have a little under a year to work my way through an entire cow (apologies to anyone who thought it was going to be a one-sitting affair – I’m greedy, not suicidal). The challenge actually got underway just before voting had ended. You see, there’s a parrilla (grill restaurant) approximately ten nautical steps from the door of our block (well, twelve, if you count the shimmy around the dog poo). And after ten days here, it was becoming impolite to keep walking past. So last Saturday, me and my furry companion (he’s growing the mullet anyway) stepped out for our first steak.
At this point, it would be easy to come over all Michael Winner: the endless expanse of rippling flesh, the crisp layer of golden fat, the flame-licked crust and velvety interior. Ahhhhh. But really, this was just a great piece of meat cooked on a proper fire by a guy who chargrills cow in his sleep. I couldn’t have been happier if it was being served by a dwarf on a tricycle.
So we returned to our apartment and ticked off sirloin and rump on our meat map. An easy start. Only a couple of days later, however, on our debut at the famous La Cabrera parrilla, things started to get a bit weird. Luckily, the combination of bad Spanish and even worse biology allowed us to remain blissfully unaware that a molleja de corazon (yes please, sounds delicious) is actually a pancreas. Molleja de cuello? Ooo why not? Thymus, yummy. [NB: Bad Idea #47: Wikipedia-ing offal parts. I’m not a squeamish person – I’ll even eat the odd McDonald’s Chicken Nugget – but the word ‘secrete’ should never be used in the same sentence as a food item.]
So, La Cabrera gave us our first taste of the famous ‘mollejas’, which the Argentineans go totally (lady) Gaga for. With good reason. Palm-sized and lighter in colour than steak, with a rich lamb-y flavour and nicely charred exterior, mollejas bear more resemblance to a really good fillet steak than school dinner liver. Just when we’re starting to feel like this grill can make anything taste good, the kidneys arrive, as tough and organ-like as I remember. NEXT!
And so back to our local, Don Julio, where Don and amigos dished me up some chinchulines (*new favourite word), the cow’s small intestine, which comes off the grill in a crispy little disc shape that doesn’t resemble the long sausage-y thing you see in biology lessons at all. My regular (well, alright, only) dining companion had succumbed to Argentina’s other great passion – futbol – so this was a solo experience, just me (at a table for four), a bottle of agua sin gas (in an ice bucket) and a hearty plate of grilled digestive tract. Bliss.
Nearing the end of our first official week of cow-nsumption, we’ve worked our way through the greatest hits collection (sirloin, rump, tenderloin & ribeye), some surprising B-sides (pancreas, thymus, intestines) and a predictable urine-processing flop (kidneys). Over our next two weeks in Buenos Aires, we’ll be concentrating on the juicy bits, before picking up the offal (en?)trail again when we head to Patagonia and leave the city and its delicate urban sensibilities behind. Next stop: udders.
Señor Suitcase
www.senorsuitcase.com
http://www.twitter.com/senorsuitcase
