Nirvana

It’s my understanding that most people get the urge to travel in order to visit the old cities of their ancestors, symbolic religious monuments, great artistic masterpieces, or decisive historical sites. However, more often then not the very hunger that drives me towards travel is inspired by none other than hunger itself, and the knowledge that the most scrumptious feasts await me at my destination.

Sometimes I’ll literally sit with a pen, writing down places I’d like to travel, as I watch programs on the Food Network, like “Diners, Drive-ins and Dives,” with Guy Fieri which takes the viewer to some of the most interesting and unique restaurants across America. I actually have an entire itinerary for a road trip across the U.S. which is completely dictated by my cravings for the BBQ belt, and the Soul Food I’m dying to try in the South.

Naturally my choice to come to Argentina was easy enough as I fantasized of endless banquet tables pilled high with different varieties of this infamous Argentine beef I’d heard so much about. I romanticized the notion of backyard asados, dimly lit parillas with gauchos as my waiters, and this dulche de leche which was apparently so ubiquitous that it ran down the walls. After brushing up on my vocabulary of all the different cuts of meat in Spanish with my tutor, I felt I was completely prepared for just the kind of traveling I like.

As though the food wasn’t amazing enough, the exchange rate makes it simply impossible to refuse a steak dinner every night. And each bife is better than next, so that you become ravenous in the quest for the ultimate lomo! Sometimes you walk into a parilla and the air will be so thick with a savory ambrosial scent that you will just know that your are about to have a religious experience.

Meal at La Cabrera--photo that does not do justice

I reached this place of nirvana just this past Saturday, it’s called “La Cabrera.” This Palermo restaurant (which can be found on the Hedonist’s Guide to Buenos Aires) looks like an old time French bistro, with dark mahogany moldings, old clippings and photographs on the walls, mercury glass mirrors, and neon signs. At La Cabrera It best to bide one’s time waiting for a table outside—with your complimentary glass of champagne—because the magnificent sight of the juicy bifes and the delicious odor inside is enough to make a person do crazy things.

Once inside you are presented with an overflowing basket of assorted breads and a variety of tapenades, dried tomatoes, and spreads. It’s necessary at this point to muster all the self control one possesses, in order to carry on with polite conversation, for of course, all parties involved are aware of the great anticipation which is distracting everyone from saying anything meaningful.

After every crumb of bread has been eaten, the jars of tapenade have been scooped clean, and conversation has become strained, the waiters finally arrive with both arms fully extended bearing smorgasbords in each. At this moment the only feeling that can be had is utter excitement, a kinetic energy that surges as they begin to lay the plates on the table before any bites are taken.

In these seconds, suspended in time, you are almost paralyzed with elation looking down at the feast of caramelized meat medallions, and the vast array of delectable accoutrements—like mashed pumpkin with raisins, beet puree, and baked pearl onions in wine. It’s almost too beautiful to touch—but of course you do. And when that steak melts in your mouth, it is truly a moment of enlightenment.