Are you Hungary?

Now that I’ve had both new year’s days for 2012, I’m back. Sunday saw the ringing in of the year of the dragon with my first tea ceremony as a married woman, which meant giving out the ang pow (red packets) rather than receiving them. Dang.

Yep, those aren't my hands doing the taking!

Also when I say I’m back, I mean not just back on the internet, but back in Sydney-town. Just before we set out on our trip CMJ and I had some family news that made us press “pause” on the overseas living button and settle for a few months overseas – tough gig eh? I don’t think I’ve eaten so much good food, ever. Every day was a culinary delight – well almost every day and the days that did not provide culinary highlights often provided ones on other fronts.

To be honest, my feet are still a little itchy. But for now, I’ve planted a vegetable patch so if that isn’t a sign of staying put, at least for a season or two, I don’t know what is. For those who aren’t travelling, at least that will put an end to any holiday-jealousy inducing photos for a while.

Instead of pretending that I am going to diligently blog all four months of the honeymoon, I’ll post, over the next couple of weeks, some of the highlights of our trip (how to choose?!) and then it will be back to regular programming. See you soon.

Turkey and I celebrated our two week anniversary with a meal which has shot to the top of both CMJ and my Turkey highlights list. Maybe it is just the honeymoon period but Turkey and I seem to be doing quite well so far, it’s given me plenty of fresh salads, kebabs with succulent meat cooked over hot coals and more cay (tea) than the Scots or the Brits could even dream of mustering.

One of many many similar views from our time on the Mediterranean coast to Turkey

Turkey has shared with me its east and south east coastlines, allowing me to laze on both pebble and sand beaches, jump off wooden boats into perfectly clear waters and to hike across mountain ridges down to places like the one above. Last night though, Turkey and I were in travel survival mode, or so I thought.

It was to be night in Antalya, a city of 1 million people so that we didn’t have to combine flights eastward with a long bus ride today. Antayla itself might not have much to see except for a few ruins (but so does pretty much everywhere in Turkey), its chaotic, has burger kings and shopping malls. Tourists cling for dear life to the old town, Kaleici, with cobbled streets, soft lighting at night and a plethora of B&B’s and restaurants with menus in English.

I’ve had plenty of good meals at restaurants with menus in English so far this trip, nay, even ones with pictures of the food on the menu but last night CMJ and I decided to ditch our B&B’s recommended eats, not even look at trip advisor (how I love/hate/mostly hate you) and head out of the quaint old town into the commercial district.

We passed about six shoe shops and I didn’t go in, a row of bridal boutiques and about four empty kebab shops. It wasn’t looking good on the food front. Then we spied, below street level, a small restaurant, brimming with people. We asked in our best international sign language to look at the menu and were waved inside to view fresh fish and an array of mezes, the Turkish share plates that arrive before every meal. “Is ok? Fish fresh” we were asked when the staff pointed to a dish of uncooked fish. “Fish, good, ok” we responded and sat down and waited.

We had no idea what was coming. Around us sat tables of turkish men, smoking and drinking raki, only grazing on the dishes of fish and dips before them. As our food arrived we adopted the approach of two people who have spent almost 3 months only in each other’s company, polite conversation disappeared and as the dishes arrived one by one, we ate. Greedily and quickly.

I was won over by the salad. Simply cabbage, scallions, tomato and some bitey vinegarette. Then dolma, rice wrapped in vine leaves but served warm in a tomato broth.

By this time, CMJ and I were buzzing. Perhaps it was the man sized beer in front of CMJ but the closest thing to alcohol I had was the salad dressing and I couldn’t keep my feet still under the table. If the mezes were this good, what would they bring us next? I scanned my neighbours tables for clues, some had what seemed to be pickled fish fillets, others rows of grilled fish. It was going to be good whatever it was.

Yes yes yes!!

And it was. Small bluefish (a popular fish here in Turkey), I think dusted lightly in breadcrumbs and then wrapped around rice, flavoured with spices so that it balanced on the fine line between sweet and savoury. Leaving the skins on the fish meant that it had a bit of the crunch factor, balancing the soft rice perfectly. CMJ and I were glad that we had learnt how to say “very good” in Turkish and repeated it enthusiastically at the staff.

Then, when we thought it could not get any better, we were brought cinekop, another type of blue fish, fresh from the Black Sea. Grilled and served with a simple salad, it was just great. The fish was tender and sweet and I thought I was enjoying myself until tapped on the shoulder by the owner who insisted that I down tools and eat them with my hands. Then I was really enjoying myself.

More yes.

We finished up with the obligatory cay. This is probably a good time to explain that the Turkish love cay their tea is bitter and served black with two or three lumps of sugar on the side. Milk or honey would be tea heresy. Don’t even think about lemon and if you think you don’t need that extra sugar in your diet, think again, put it in, stir and vow to walk up more stairs to burn it off.

Tea? Cay not?

With our tea came one more surprise, findik ezmesi, a paste of hazelnuts, sugar and I think butter. Spread thinly on a plate and served with only forks, it was like nutella served in a form suitable for a dinner party.

Findik ezmesi

Over our chai we chatted to the chef, Dagistan and scribbled words in our respective languages down for each other then we were offered cigarettes (which I think meant we were now friends) . It was, in spite of the excellent food, my favourite part of the night, a reward for venturing past the safety of the kaleici.*

Isiklar Hamsicisi

Genclik Mah, Isiklar Cad 2

Gokhan Apt No 15/B

Antalya

* The restaurant is only about 500m from one end of the Kaleici, near the stadium and the bus station (there are many in Antayla) on Ataturk Cadesi.

I live by many rules, too many some would say but one of them is play to your strengths. There are some things that I just was not born to do. Mathematics, baking, walking on uneven surfaces without difficulty and in a similar vein, walk in heels.
Of course though, there are things that I’d like to think I can do quite well quite easily. This list is not flattering but it is true, marinating, watching reality tv and/or cooking shows or reality cooking shows, putting together a travel itinerary, using headings.*

It’s a rule that I’d like all of my holiday destinations to adhere to as well, but alas, they don’t always. Croatia in summer though, adheres to my rule. We are getting along just fine.

Before we left for Croatia, a country visited by many of our friends before us, CMJ and I were told numerous times that it was ‘beautiful’ but that ‘the food wasn’t that great.’ So expecting heavy stews and substandard pizza we set off on an overnight ferry from Bari in Italy to Dubrovnik, I wasn’t looking forward to the fare about as much as I was already missing our pastas, light fluffy pizza bases in Naples and gelato every day. That’s right every day.

I know it's not Croatia but this was a highlight of Italy post last blog post!

Arriving in Dubrovnik at the same time as about 4 large cruise ships meant that Dubrovnik was heaving on that particular day. Crowds followed guides holding up paddles and umbrellas and giving guided tours through walkie talkie devices. It was hot, crowded and we were in no mood to explore the old town, but to make time for lying on beaches in the afternoon, we would. The sacrifices I know.

Unable to muster the strength to tell a good restaurant from a bad one, I pulled out our Lonely Planet guide and flicked straight to “our pick” for Dubrovnik. The Lonely Planet’s restaurant picks have let me down before (I think mostly they get too excited about the publicity and then once they are listed either hike up the prices or skimp on the quality) so I was not hopeful. What’s more the restaurant was right on the dock in the middle of the old town of Dubrovnik, tourist and cruise ship HQ.
But we sat, drank our sparkling mineral water (as we do in Europe) and then were treated to what was still, 7 days later, one of our stand out meals Croatia. More importantly we were reminded of the joy of grilled squid and grilled seafood more generally.

The first of many

We were, of course, on the coast.

It arrived, smothered in olive oil, lemon juices and perhaps a dash of oregano. Crunchy in parts and juicy and filled with flavour in others. It was perfect and provided the necessary energy for swimming in rocky city beaches with perfectly clear water. Croatia, well done on playing to your strengths which of course aren’t limited to grilling seafood, but that is one clear strength, put that on your list.

I promise, this isn't the only dish we order!

*I know, I don’t use them here, but trust me, they appear in lots of my other written work. See emails. One day I’ll be able to use them in tweets.

Antica Osteria Pisano

Piazzetta Crocelle ai Mannesi 1, 
corner of Via Duomo & Spaccanapoli

Napoli, Italy

Lokanda Peskarija

Na Ponti bb, Dubrovnik 20000

Croatia

Internet, I’ve missed you. There are two very distinct types of internet in my world, the one which provides access to online banking, to the work computer system from home, the one that delivers bills via email. When I turn it on, I give a slight huff and puff, knowing that there could be far more fun things to do with the internet. It is the equivalent of a carrot and celery juice with a wheatgrass shot in comparison to an apple, pineapple, watermelon and beetroot juice, with a sprig of mint thrown in for good measure (or, if you would prefer, your cocktail of choice.)

The internet I’ve missed is the latter, the one which is full of tweets, blogs, food reviews and frivolous emails. It’s been organisational emails, bills, budgets and bookings for months now. Not today world. Today I update my blog, I visit my few favourite blogs all the while giving mental props to their authors for their ability to post regularly.

Look, it hasn’t been all bad.

The last two months or so have entailed this:

 And I have moved on to the honeymoon part of the wedding palaver which has involved some serious hits on the gastronomic adventures scale and some misses. We’ve gone from London to Scotland to Italy and are off to Croatia in a day or two. One overnight train, two bloody marys (and a corresponding nap later) here’s a quick rundown of what I’ve learnt so far.

• The best food is not often  found next to the best views, but sadly despite the knowledge of this rule I’ve failed to adhere to it at times and thrown good euro after bad food, or to be fair mediocre food.
• Even if you have woken up at 3am to catch a cheap flight, then caught three different trains, it’s probably worth spending 5 minutes considering restaurant choice. Eating reheated frozen pasta overlooking the Cinque Terre at a clifftop bar kind of ruins the first meal in Italy (see first point).
• Fish soup. I love you, especially when you are full of rich sweet tomato flavours and fresh seafood. This one was at Manarola, Cinque Terre. Go.

• Getting to London’s various airports costs more than getting from them to other European destinations.
• I miss cooking. Italy has done a great job of providing home style fresh and often super affordable food, but sometimes when there’s fresh pesto on offer at the local deli, whipping up some pasta is irresistible. Especially with a view out the window like this one.

And with that I’ll log off for a few more days, I’ve two more nights in Italy, five meals to be exact. Now to spend them wisely. Recommendations for the Amalfi Coast, Croatia and Turkey are all welcome as I have them all in my sights.  I’m online more often via twitter @are_you_hungary, so send them that-a-way!

I’d kind of like to say that I’m sorry that it’s been such a while since my last post, but I’m not really that sorry. It is just ten days until my our wedding and twenty days until I pack up and head off overseas for a seven month adventure. So suffice to say there has been a lot on.

I’ve still been eating, don’t worry, and more often than usual tweeting photos of particularly interesting food finds, so if you miss me (which I am kind of presuming you do by the mere fact of this sentence) then follow me on twitter. That way I won’t feel like I’m only followed by group buying companies and food websites from overseas and you would, in a kind of dull yet voyeuristic way, see things that I would never, ever post on facebook or in long form here, mostly because the photos are terrible and taken on my old iphone.

But anyway, ten days out from the culmination of about five or six different spreadsheets the only really decent thing I have to show you is what we’ll be eating on the day. I love my caterer already. If you have to get married, or have a big party, or have a small party and would like to speak to someone who will give your dream supper hot potato bar (and save you one, or at least she promises to) or suggest that pork belly is an appropriate wedding food then Hattie is for you.

To break up the photos of what we’re going to be eating I might provide you with one thing for each day before the wedding (other than aforementioned pork belly and hot potato bar) that I am looking forward to about the wedding…in no particular order:

1.Being able to wear cowboy boots with my dress.

2. Having pretty much all my favourite people in the same room.

The best pork belly I've eaten for a long time...and with this fried chicken ban, pork belly is a worthy indulgence!

3. Dancing, lots of it, and a Cooper family singalong.

4. Yam Seng-ing with my cousins from Malaysia and Singapore.

5. Moscato (singular, damn light-weightness)

Cream of artichoke heart soup and salt and pepper squid

6. Seeing CMJ for the first time (well not, ever, obviously).

7. Family photos (am I the only sucker who actually enjoys this?)

8. Polaroids.

9. Lemon Curd and Turkish Delight cupcakes thanks to the home pro bakers.

10. A day full of warm fuzzies.

I am steadily getting the feeling that being a bride-to-be (69 days to the big day and counting!) is not helping my fun levels…added to the fact that Call Me Jose and I are in the midst of packing up our apartment and planning a somewhat extended honeymoon. The next two weeks/weekends will be wedding planning central – we’re having Call me Jose’s parents and sibilings over for a pre-wedding sydney good times fest, including a belated engagement lunch here. Then it’s off to Murrurundi (4 hours north west of sydney) to view our venue for the second time, scour for photo locations, pit marquee providers off against each other in a battle to the death and if time permits, sit down with a quiet cup of tea.

Needless to say, my days which include a new job are filled with ticking things off both the ‘wedding’ and ‘honeymoon’ lists as well as trying my level best not to balloon out into a mega bride. I’ve heard lot of people say that being busy means a steady weight loss as there’s no time for eat, but being in a constant state of frantic organisation for me equates to extra eating to prevent hunger at critical times! Not an ideal pre- wedding preparation I know.

So cooking at home has been fast and furious and recipes are never noted. Old favourites are relied upon heavily for quick and easy meals – they never get photographed. Assume that far too much pasta arribiatta, instant noodles and similar non-bride friendly foods have been consumed of late….you can see the blisters on my feet for reference, running to remove them from my hips.

Newcomers to the block included an eggplant and fetta pasta which helped to use up the ridiculously ambitious amount of eggplant purchased on an excited trip to paddy’s market.

one of my favourite weeknight meals of late...

A pea, fennel and spinach soup which provided a few self righteous diet lunches at work and freed up a lot of freezer space. I’m loving the idea of cooking vegetables, adding stock, whizzing and calling it a soup. Unfortunately, soup is in fact not a meal and any self righteous grinning that I enjoy after eating one is often followed by a slightly guilty smirk as the meal that follows is invariably a little larger than necessary. This one is an adaptation of this recipe.

surely parmesan improves everything...

Since learning to poach eggs and finding out how much our honeymoon/wedding is going to cost, breakfasts out at cafe’s have become a rarity, indeed they’ve almost become extinct in Call me Jose and my home. The exception was yesterday morning. We woke at the crack of dawn (well isn’t that 7am on a saturday) to head about 45 minutes west of our home to do errands. Wedding errands. Don’t ask, you’ll die of boredom hearing about them.

Something strange happened though, through my cries of  ”I’m hungreeeeeeee” which filled the car, Call me Jose managed to navigate us to a favourite spot of his colleagues and his. Big Bite Bakery, Greenacre – the home of Friday Morning Mankoushes at Call me Jose’s workplace. I expected a lot, and was not disappointed. Families lined up early in the morning …well it was 9:30 by this time….for a mankoushe.

sorry about the fairly mediocre image, what can I say, it was early and I was hungry...

The menu is limited, cheese, oregano, oregano and cheese, cheese, meat, cheese and meat and so on and so forth but something tells me that there is nothing stopping you from designing your own mankoushe. It’s not a place to dwell, but there’s a lovely grassed area just outside which would make an ideal mankoushe picnic spot with views of the back of the shop and the surrounding houses. It’s a meal for those on the go.

oregano and cheese

We opted for the very popular cheese and oregano and, just at the last second made an impulse order of an additional meat mankoushe even though one would clearly have been sufficient but for $6 for the two we weren’t really complaining. Minutes later we were provided with fluffy crunchy bases  topped with oregano and sumac perhaps and mixed with melted cheese…or topped with a sweet  mince mixed with fresh tomato pieces that glisten in the morning sun.

watch that beef and tomato glisten...this would be improved by the addition of cheese

Unlike pides, some bad pizza and other bread and cheese combinations which sometimes overwhelm me with dough and oil, these were surprisingly light. I avoided any post mince at breakfast regret as it all sat very happily in my belly and we headed off for our errands….more from wedding central soon…if I make it out from under my excel spreadsheets…

Big Bite Bakery

4/130a Waterloo Road,

Greenacre, NSW, 2190

As far as I can remember, most Easter holidays have involved fair to large amounts of rain. Once I went to Coffs Harbour (a coastal town about 5 hours north of Sydney) with my family, it was going to be our big trip for the year. Dad was going to do things like relax and turn his then, very new, mobile phone off. Things like long walks on the beach and lazing around by the pool were slated, shorts and thongs were packed and the house locked up for a weekend at the beach.

We were greeted then, by rain, rain and more rain. Puddles formed on the pathway between our villa and the rest of the hotel. It got chilly and we wished we had packed more warmly. We visited the local cinema, multiple times, until all the family friendly movies were exhausted. Oh boy, did it rain.

Many a year later, but still only really willing to watch family friendly movies, I found myself looking for an Easter destination. Exhausted from a demanding job and not willing to make the trek up the coast, I booked Call me Jose and I into a little apartment at Berowra Waters. Again, optimistic clothing was packed. Shorts, terry towelling hats and even some swimming gear. Alas, it rained and rained and rained. It rained when we were in the tinny trying to fish, it rained while we were watching DVD’s in the apartment and it rained while I tried my hand at deep frying whitebait.

This year though, after a whirlwind last couple of months or so, I was not prepared to risk the rain. So Easter was spent at home. I was hoping for glorious sunny days, so that I could be proven wrong about the Easter rain and again head up or down the coast, for a little respite and rest….but I’m not holding my breath.  The best thing about staying home over a holiday break is that it can be spent cooking without packing the boot full of cooking appliances, condiments and ingredients you’re just not sure will be available in the sleepy beachside town you’ve chosen.

This year, I was joined with one of my favourite eating partners, for a long lunch, some old school scrabble and a glass of vino while we feasted on these pretties. Mussels are great for entertaining because you really don’t need to spend much time away from your guests and everyone has a little fun getting their hands dirty and slurping the juices out of their bowls.

The recipe is inspired by the one in David Chang’s Momofuku cookbook; but realising that I didn’t have about half the ingredients the resembelance now comes down to the method rather than the taste.

Really Good Friday Mussels

You Need

4 cloves garlic, smashed and roughly chopped

1 x 3 cm knob of ginger, grated

4 tbsp scallions, sliced thinly

2 tsp miso paste

2 tbs mirin

2 tbs sushi vinegar

1 tsp black bean and garlic paste (available at Asian grocery stores)

2 tbsp rice bran oil

generous splash vodka (maybe about 1/4 cup)

1 1/2 kilos mussels, washed and bearded

You Need To

Prepare the garlic, ginger and scallions. Place in a bowl with the miso, mirin, sushi vinegar and black bean and garlic paste. Set aside until needed.

Wash the mussels and making sure you get as many of the beards out of them as possible.

Set a large pot or pan (with lid) on a high heat and add the rice bran oil. Once the oil heats up, add the mussels and cover for 1-1/2 minutes.

Just before adding the vodka..

Open quickly, add the vodka and close again for another minute.

Tip the pot to one side, so that the mussels all gather together at one end, where there is now space in the pot add the miso mixture and mix with the pan juices. Toss everything together and cover for another minute or so, making sure that all the mussels open.

Discard any mussels that remain closed.

If only every weekend was celebrated this way!

Despite the Asian flavours in this dish, I serve it with a fresh baguette, fluffier, whiter and more absorbent the better- no need for fancy bread here.

As you may remember, things don’t always work out in the kitchen for me. So, when I was gifted a pasta making attachment for Bruce for my birthday recently I was elated and worried.   I’m not good with dough.

Luckily while there are areas where I am not so gifted (baking and dough making) I am lucky enough to have some wonderful friends who have spent time in the kitchen perfecting pasta recipes. Well one. The Hostess and to her I owe this post….

I also owe her (along with The Headmistress, Kevin Rudd and some other dear friends) a huge part in my latest bit of news. Call me Jose and I are engaged. You see, along with almost flawless fondant rolling and sponge cake making abilities, the Hostess is wise and perceptive and on one very long walk along a very windy beach made me promise to start returning Call me Jose’s calls. I did.

So Hostess, thanks for this, and for so much more. See you at the wedding!

We only had cider with us, at least it was bubbly!

Like any good appropriator I’ve included my two unsolicited cents on the recipe in italics alongside the HostESs’ instructions, feel free to accept or ignore at will!  The Hostess’ own pearls of widom are included in parentheses.

Not bad hey?

The HostESs’ Foolproof pasta

Adapted from many recipes, developed over time with love and trial and error and served with big ups to the author of her Italian cooking bible, Giorgio Locatelli

You Need

250g 00 flour

250g semolina

4 egg yolks (I use this quantity because I like to make soufflé from the egg whites and I like a richer pasta, if you don’t also share the soufflé passion, you could just use 2) Seriously, who doesn’t like soufflee, or meringues, or pavlova. I stuck with the extra egg yolk variation, ended up with an excuse to try my hand at souffles the next morning and never looked back. I suggest you do similarly

3 whole eggs (or 4 if you are using less egg yolks)

pinch of salt (if you can remember to add it)

cold water (as needed – really depends on the weather as to how much you need!)

You (K)Need to

Mix together 00 flour, semolina and salt and place in a mound on your work surface.

Make a well in the centre. This needs to be quite a big well, mine was little and I had run off over the edges of my well and ended up with a well good mess on my benchtop. I eventually incorporated all the flour and eggs together in the end, but I well (ha!) definitely go with a bigger well in the future.

Crack eggs into the well and mix with your finger tips bit by bit, working outwards until all the eggs are incorporated.

Knead dough until smooth and elastic(ish) (about 10 mins).  Be prepared to use some serious elbow grease for this, perhaps even forsake a gym visit during the day as you’ll need all the strength you can get.

If dough is dry/ not coming together then add cold water a little at a time.  If it is still dry, add more water (obviously).

Wrap dough in cling wrap and place in fridge to rest for 1/2 an hour (you can leave it longer if you want to make it the day before etc). I did, the longer the better methinks.

Remove the dough from the fridge and leave it for a couple of minutes to slightly soften. Then smoosh it into a flat-tish  pie shape , by just pounding the top with the palm of your hand. This will make the next step easier.

Cut dough into 8 pieces (leave all but the piece you are not currently using wrapped in the cling wrap so it doesn’t dry out). Be careful to wrap the remaining dough tightly as it will dry out quickly otherwise.

Take a piece of the dough and flatten (with your palm or if you are fancy, then a rolling pin) so that you don’t bust your pasta machine.  Put your pasta machine on the widest setting and put it through the machine.  Reduce to 2nd widest setting then third.  Then fold in half and start again from widest setting.  Do this 3 times in total. Then cut in half.  Put the half you are not using in the cling wrap cave.  That is, just wrap it back up in cling wrap, if you’ve got a dark cupboard nearby feel free to rest it in there.

Take the other half and fold it into thirds, put through the pasta machine at widest setting, then second widest setting then third.  Do this 3 times in total – the pasta should look a bit glossy.

Once three repeats have been completed, go up to desired thickness. On my pasta machine 6 or 7 is ideal. I only went up to 4 on mine, as I was happy with that thickness!

When you have completed rolling out the pasta sheet, dust it in flour let it dry out.  I use a clothes rack for this purpose.

Roll out all the pasta sheets before cutting into desired shape!

Mine went into fettuccine ribbons, and was served with a simple tomato sugo.

oh yes...and a little pesto...

Since then my copy of Mr Locatelli’s tome has arrived so I’ll be trying something from that next, or alternatively something involving the duck breasts in my freezer. Suggestions welcome! Especially if you’ve got a good recipe for a duck ragu…winter’s a comin’ and I need to stock up on hearty recipes!

I love holidays, my bank account will show time and time again that I love them far more than financial security or planning for the future.

I can’t help it. I love everything about them, the first steps of location choosing, then the planning and research (which sometimes flies out the window, I’ve flown to London on 6 days notice and NY on 7 both, hastily compiled, poorly thought out but brilliant in the end between-job holidays), the getting busy at work and forgetting about the holiday…but then waking up on the morning of the holiday and realising its time to go.

The challenge of a completely different culture, environment and language are great reminders to not get complacent, comfortable or to assume that the way “we” do things “back home” is best and simultaneously often remind me that in a very sentimental way that everyone, really, is the same.  I usually snap out of these reflective moments quite quickly and get caught up consuming everything in sight, the food, drink and the final element in any good holiday in my books either a physical challenge and intense pain (hiking or skiing) or lots and lots of shopping…I’m not one to lie on a beach under my big red hat and read a book, I do that at home.

One of the best parts about a truly great holiday to me though, is the fact that the memories don’t fade. Well the ones I don’t need do but I’ll remember sleeping overnight in Athens airport due to some ridiculous flight schedules, sleeping in a youth hostel still under construction in Berlin (instead of a complimentary soap, we were provided with complimentary ear plugs, not a good sign), running for a train after eating a four cheese potato rosti in Switzerland and having a 10 course degustation at an onsen in Japan…and then crashing some rotary group’s karaoke party next door.

Still fresh are my memories of the South American jaunt I took with Call me Jose. It was a blur of long bus rides, punctuated by watching 30 Rock on I-pods, hiking boots and strapped ankles, beef, pork and chicken, poorly executed Spanish (on my part) and empanadas. For the first 10 nights we slept in different places, packing and re-packing every day so once we found ourselves in the small Argentinean town of El Chalten for three whole nights, our task became obvious. Find a local.

Luckily our local was only about 100m down the road from our really great little hostel, mostly great because we had our own room, bathroom and bunk beds, the top bunk is a god-send when one of your two person travelling troupe is coughing and spluttering with a throat infection down below. This was always going to be a hit with me from the time our hostel owner said, the name of the restaurant is a “do you say, play on words? Como vaca means [I] eat cow, and like [a] cow.””

Ah, Rodrigo...

Our first meal there was an early lunch, having spent the morning at the only doctor’s surgery in town there was not much left to do but to sit down and eat.  It’s hard not to go there when you can smell it before you see it, with the parilla (hot grill) fired up from mid-morning, a smoky, meaty aroma far more compelling than any fluorescent sign out the front could ever be.

We had the obligatory bread basket to start with, but also a little plate of home-made hummus which was a nice change from just butter and then it happened. Our first mind blowingly amazing meal of the trip.

Oh, how I miss you...

The chorizo was juicy and flavoursome, rich and meaty without feeling like you had just eaten a mouthful of fat. Call me Jose still reminisces about this sausage and its three months on…

My beef ribs inspired me to make the same at home, salted rather heavily and cooked over the hot grill, the beef was almost sweet and balanced the odd salt kernel on top of the beef.

Not the beef rib, but the cause of my ambitious eating, I watched an elderly lady devour an entire one of these babies...

CMJ went for chicken. “Really? You sure you don’t want the lamb, or a steak or some sausages? Or anything else?” I asked, incredulously as he announced his selection. You see, chicken is something I cook at home, a lot or order in a deep fried form wherever I see it. Chicken to me is juicy if cooked right, but a dry hardened lump of wasted potential if not…I was worried. Really worried. I even saw the waiter subtly shrug his shoulders in a “it’s your funeral” kind of move when the order was placed.

But just like in Date Night I learned the lesson of the female partner of little faith. Sure, in the movie Tina Fey learns to trust her husband to rescue them from scary mobsters and some might say that ordering a meal is not really on the same level but  I will leave that to you to decide.  The chicken was perfectly tender, lightly charred on the outside and juicy on the inside. CMJ had a win.

So much so that I returned to buy takeaway for dinner when CMJ was apparently bed bound.  The restaurant was full of polarfleece clad diners.  There were tables of ruggedly handsome mountain climbers  with (El Chalten has some of the most spectacular mountain climbing and hiking in South America) devouring their own mountainous mixed meat platters, long tables of German tourists who were happily tucking into their big as your head sized schnitzels and French fries and the balance were the quiet achievers, the couples who over a meal and a glass of red, were watching the chaos around them. The staff too, were on high alert, a family run place they spoke politely and warmly to the diners and with, lets call it familial familiarity to each other. The head of the family, Rodrigo, running the grill with Argentinean efficiency.

I waited 40 minutes for my take away home made ravioli’s, but I was not disappointed. They were just what my bed bound boyfriend needed.

Having had a couple of misses on the restaurant front, on our final day in El Chalten we returned, for our final meal in the town before another long and soul destroying bus ride. This time it was an early dinner. Really early. 4pm early.

Lamb Ribs

Lamb ribs. They sounded like a good idea, but were a bit stringy and hard to get the meat off of.

Bovine perfection!

The beef filet, in contrast was a fitting farewell, perfectly medium rare, juicy and tasted like cow.

Three meals later, I could safely say that I liked to like cow.

Como Vaca Parilla Restaurante

Lago del desierto

El Chalten, Patagonia

Argentina

Inlandsis posada patagonica

Lago del desierto 480 – z930IXAF

El Chalten, Patagonia

Argentina

info@inlandis.com.ar

+54.2962.493.276