Leo sips his café and bites into a small alfajor. His close-cropped black hair frames a face prone to easy smiles and glittering eyes. We’re sitting in the Havanna Café north of Salta’s main plaza and chatting about the region as the clock ticks past 9 PM. Dinner at Leo’s friend’s house won’t be ready for a couple of hours.
I met Leo several days earlier at a CouchSurfing gathering, and he generously agreed to chat with me after his vacation. The “Havanna” signature drink I ordered is sickly sweet, a large band of condensed milk huddled at the bottom, and it stands untouched as we bounce among topics, from asados to folklórica music to wine. We get to talking about the people of Salta – their origins, customs, and struggles – and I’m captivated by the history. Read more...
So you’re in Argentina and you’ve been invited to an asado. Lucky you! You’re not a vegetarian (right?) and you love succulent meat! It’s juicy and tender whether char-grilled or broiled. You eat steaks, and Argentina’s got steaks that stand toe-to-toe with Kobe and Wagyu beef.
I can already see you dreaming about aged filet mignon. Well quit it.
Sure we know how to grill in the United States. Hamburgers and steaks are as American as apple pie and bad credit. But asado isn’t really about steaks (in the classical sense) and we don’t do asados. Not even close. Read more...
The peatonales are hidden by a crush of people. These cobbled pedestrian walkways just south of the heart of Salta are overrun by uniformed students, beat cops, street vendors, capri-wearing tourists, and families with small children darting at vectors across foot traffic. Women carry loaves of bread while men carry kids on their shoulders. It seems like every five feet someone is eating ice cream.
And me? I’m wandering through the throng seeking an entrance to Salta’s central market. You wouldn’t think it would be difficult to find a market the size of a square city block, but the entrances are unassuming and not designed to catch the eye of visitors. I eventually locate an entrance amidst the uniform shops bordering the peatonal; perhaps this natural camouflage makes a bit more sense once you consider the riches hiding inside. Read more...
It begins with a triangle. You fold in the dough at the corner toward the pocket of savory goodness. And repeat, and repeat again. All the way around the curvature of the pocket until a pastry braid comes into being.
This is the spine of the empanada, the keystone that holds in the flavor of the ubiquitous hand-sized snack as it’s baked or fried. By my third empanada I had the hang of it, and Ana (my mentor) congratulated me on my execution. I look at the the succulent pile of goodies manufactured by the other empanaderos at the party and realize making empanadas, like chess or foreign policy, is one of those seemingly easy-to-pick-up-but-hard-to-master skills. Read more...
“Oh, you’re young. She thought you were going to be 50″ said Yvette, the woman in the front seat, pointing to our guide and driver, Ana.
“What, 50? Why would I be 50?”
Another woman, Yvette’s older sister Jillian, turns to me in the back of the small, red van. “Well, you’re married and traveling alone. Who does that?”
Who does that? I’ve been answering that question a lot since I left my job, and it’s pretty difficult to explain in broken Spanish to the Argentines I meet. Luckily, I’m riding with two 30-something American women. I cover the usual bases (a dissatisfaction with my job, a desire to follow my passions, a severe dislike of regret) as we weave through traffic on the way south of Salta. The women nod their heads in understanding.
Or was it feigned interest? You see, I don’t know if they expected me to be a part of their sojourn to Cafayate. Read more...
A hunter, oft-stubbled and bleary-eyed, driven by an insatiable hunger for exploration and experience - and perhaps a chance to thin the herd of caffeinated and alcoholic beverages. From the highlands and islands to Edinburgh, Glasgow, and the Borders, I explore Scotland with a pen in hand and a fire in the belly (which could be partly from the whisky). 
