Thursday, September 25, 2008

Gastronomic Advice

Should you find yourself in a Buenos Aires restaurant, suffering from meat exhaustion, you may be tempted by menu entries such as "Ensalada César", "Caezer Salad", "Kaisersallat" (sic!).

DO NOT YIELD TO THIS TEMPTATION. Nothing good will come of it, I can assure you. No matter how many allowances you are willing to make, disappointment and disillusionment are the only possible outcomes. Trust me on this. There are certain expectations that the term "Caesar Salad" generates, unavoidably. NONE OF THESE WILL BE MET.

The exact manner of your disappointment will, of course, depend on the establishment. But, based on a sample size of three, I am willing to bet (apostar) that the following elements will be involved:

  1. A complete absence of anything resembling Romaine lettuce.
  2. The apparently prevalent local belief that the terms "Caesar salad dressing" and "the Argentine equivalent of Miracle Whip" are interchangeable.
  3. The presence of some kind of soggy item, nominally belonging to the bread group, evidently meant to be a crouton, but not actually recognizable as such.
  4. An inordinately high sog-factor, generally, resulting from some kind of diabolical synergy among the pond-greenery, canned mushrooms, brine-soaked croutons and Miracle Whip.
  5. No anchovies.
  6. Canned chicken parts.

Depending on your moral strength of character, the disillusionment induced by your faux C-S experience may or may not lead to a regrettable frenzy of compensatory Toblerone-gorging (availability of Toblerone is a factor here as well, obviously). You may end up just snarling at your travel companion(s) or engaging in acts of petty urban vandalism. But either way, it won't be pretty.

Maybe you'd like a nice cut of meat from the parrilla instead?


Anonymous said...

I'll be cooking up some yummy broccoli for you Monday night! No, no, no. I'll see to it that we either have a well-balanced but delicious meal at home or we can go out and see some of Alexandria.

Miracle Whip is most loathsome.


gaelstat said...

I want to emphasize that the Toblerone in question was of the 50gram size. Which is more chocolate than you ever want to feed your dog, but falls short of actual debauchery when considered in human terms.

It's very insidious, though. You start just saying to yourself "I'll just eat the T-O-B" part. Next thing you know, the lonely trio of "O-N-E" peaks are staring up at you, just begging not to be left alone.

Tonight's dinner was much more yummy.