Steak 101 - Adventures in Lomoland

Why the Argentine Grill is a Meat Eater´s Paradise

It has now been nearly week in Argentina with hardly any talk of steak. It must be from all the beef in our mouths. Our first week in this country was like a intensive course in beefsteak preparation, consumption and appreciation. Now I'm going to break the silence and give our mouths a rest to take note of an ultimate beef eating experience.

A traveller carting his beef away from baggage claim in the domestic terminal.

Argentines eat more beef per capita than anyone in this world. Couple this with Malbec wine, one of the boldest reds around, and I must say I was shifting in the airplane seat with anxiety before we touched down in ESE. I kid you not - there were butcher's carcasses on the baggage carousel and countless family barbeques along the road into town. We were already in steak paradise even before entering Buenos Aires or nearing any form of kitchen.

I later passed a family eating steak on wooden board plates out of their car in St Telmo on our first day's walkabout in St Telmo.

Clearly, steak is everywhere. The designation of "Parilla" is for steakhouse restaurants that use large grills to cook all kinds of meats, whereas an "Asado" is a BBQ and usually a more casual, family tradition. Apparently the family asado will be fired up on public holidays, on an important football matchday, or any given Sunday.

Alas, t

he following is our account of the Parilla and why it is one of the best grill-ups in the whole world.

"There is nothing I like better than an Asado, and an Asado with folk songs is my idea of Heaven." - George Durrell, The Whispering Land, 1963

In some Parillas they have an Asado pit for roasting meats over hot coals.

First, the charcoal or wood embers are spread out on the ground below the grill, or in the Asado pit itself and the grill is then hung just above this.

Steaks come "A Punto" (to the perfect medium-rare red point), or ask for "Jugoso" if you want yours rare.

A provolete grilled cheese wheel being divided by the waiter.

In the meantime you should try a first course of spicy chorizo sausage to share in bites with the group. Not to be confusused with Spanish dried chorizo, these larger, fatty sausages are sizzling straight from the grill and are the country's most popular entree. Then be sure to have provolete - a grilled wheel of provolone cheese with herbs on top. Next might even be a side portion of succulent asado ribs, still before the main event.

Bife de Chorizo (thick sirloin) is extremely tasty if you prefer a bit more marbling in your steak. A larger group could order a parillada which is a mixed grill mountain that will served be on it's own charcoal hotplate at your table.

Finally comes the huge slab of steak (often 500g-1kg) that are brought down to earth from heaven and easily split between two hungry mortals. Our perrenial favourite was the Lomo - a thick, lean tenderloin (filet mignion) cut. It's so flavousorme that there is no need for intricate sauces. This expertly aged beef has been finished on the pastures of the surrounding plains. It is of the highest quality in the world and should not be fooled around with. There's also usually chinichurri on the table if you do want to add a little zing on top. However the parrillero (grillmaster) will have seasoned the steak with a special steak salt before grilling it to the perfect point with pure compassion. For me there is no better taste in this world than washing down such a morcel of meat with a bold red wine like those of Mendoza. Vegetables are usually an afterthought, but Steph made sure we had some on the side of each heart attack steak dinner.

Chinichurri - It surprised me to learn that this delivous condiment (which I'm now addicted to) was apparently invented by a Scottish gaucho named Jimmy McCurry who mixed the few ingredients he had to spice up his diet.

Pickled pepper jars often sit at the end of the table to be added if you want more spice. However Argentine cooking is rather tame when compared to other Latin American food.

The waiters in parillas often brought round a limoncello to help digest all this grilled meat that now sits in your belly. The sweet Italian digestif is sometimes homemade and could even be of orange flavour. Postres (desserts) were often out of the question for us, unless it involved a walk to the heladeria for some seriously good Italian-style ice cream.

If we did indulge in an in-house dessert, it was usually the flambed apple pancakes.