Mate: you’re not in Asia anymore

In Asia, they have a huge tea culture. It varies greatly from country to country, but the tea culture in China and Vietnam are my favorites. Thailand was split between not so good tea and iced Nescafe. Not as good. Luckily we were already fans of tea prior to arriving in China, but small fans in comparison to how much the Chinese appreciate their tea. We got into it a bit, visiting random tea shops and sitting for tea tastings. It’s kind of like a wine tasting. You smell the tea before water is added, then after the water is added and so on. We lucked out and purchased some amazing Oolong tea, which we showed off to the Chinese running our hostel. They were really impressed, passing around our small tea canister, everyone taking turns smelling it. It’s a huge part of their culture. Vietnamese tea culture is very different from China’s, and it even changes in the North and South of Vietnam.



When we arrived in Buenos Aires, one of the first things we noticed was this funny looking cup with a metal straw which was carried around in one hand and a thermos of hot water carried in the other. I thought mate (pronounced mah-teh, with emphasis on the last syllable) culture was limited to countries like Bolivia or Ecuador because of high altitudes (much like what the Peruvians drink), but the drink couldn’t possibly get more popular in Argentina. We quickly decided that this is something we wanted to get into.

Pour Some Sugar on Me

To all of the amazing women out there: Happy International Women’s Day!! It’s a holiday here in Buenos Aires, and most stores are closed. We’re not sure if it’s only because of Women’s Day or not. But yesterday was a national holiday, too. The smell of parrillas fills the air during holidays in Buenos Aires. You can practically taste the chorizo. Also, the local Cinemark has a special on today in honor of women and we are looking forward to seeing “El discurso del rey” (The King’s Speech) at a discount in English with Spanish subtituladas. And the hubby gave me these beautiful flowers :) They remind me of spring.

This post’s title may be misleading as our day had nothing to do with Def Leppard, but it did have a lot of sugar in it. We started off our day with a healthy dose of sweets, aka the traditional Argentine breakfast. We took a stroll down bustling Santa Fe Ave, across from el Jardin Botanico, and landed in a nice cafeteria. I ordered the continental breakfast, which consisted of 2 medialunas (literally “half moons”), cafe con leche, jugo de naranja, tostadas con manteca y marmalada. Igor ordered something else called a submarino con tres vigilantes. We were unsure what vigilantes were, but figured out they were the same thing as facturas: varieties of the medialuna but with even more sugar.

The menu doesn’t change much in Buenos Aires. In fact, I’m pretty sure that there is one big, universal menu in this city. Oh, and let me explain the medialuna. It is the Argentine version of a croissant. Basically, it has the same shape as a croissant, but tastes nothing like a croissant. Instead, it is extremely dense and glazed in some sort of sugary stuff, which is so sticky you can’t touch it without washing your hands afterward. Anyways, the submarino was a real treat. It was a big glass of hot boiled milk accompanied by 2 sticks of dark chocolate, appropriately called submarinos. You dip the chocolate into the milk, melting it until you create your very own choco milk. Delish.

We poured some of the melted choco into my cafe con leche and it miraculously formed a half moon. Not sure what that means, but it was a little strange.

After a healthy an unhealthy dose of sugar and caffeine, we stumbled back onto Santa Fe and made our way home to recover until pre-dinner postres (desserts).

-A

I’ve Died and Gone to Bife Cielo

I think the time has arrived to talk about the beef situation in Argentina. Before continuing, I would like to thank Moving to Argentina for their detailed outline of beef cuts and types of beef, which I have used in this post. Also, this post is NSFV/V (Not Safe for Vegetarians/Vegans). You’ve been warned.

In 2006, The Washington Post published a pretty funny article, “In Argentina, They’ve Got a Beef”, in which they stated that Argentines eat more beef than do people in any other country -- about 140 pounds a year per person, or about 50 percent more than the average American. In 2006, former President Kirchner (who recently died of a heart attack and was the husband of current President Cristina Fernandez) suggested that Argentines eat less steak in an attempt to curb inflation, his citizens were aghast.

One mother was interviewed and asked what would happen if she were to cook something else, like fish, for her family, and her response was simple: her family would starve to death. With that kind of dramatic response, she is obviously one of the 25 million Argentines of Italian descent. Anyways, it is clear that a juicy slab of marbled steak is more than a meal for many of Argentina's 39 million citizens; it's part of their national identity. Well, we are attempting to make steak grilled jugoso, or juicy, part of our national identity. So far, we are doing pretty well.

After we moved into our departamento, or apartment for all my Gringos, we headed down to the local Disco to purchase some groceries. You may be thinking we were confused because Disco sounds more like a dance club than a supermercado, but in fact it is not. Not in Argentina, at least. Disco may appear to be your average supermercado, yet it is not.

However, I want it noted that I make no claims of Disco’s greatness. While it is very convenient, the fruits and breads are lacking and I’ve been told by many Porteños that it is not the place to buy anything fresh, meat included. It is preferable to visit the small stores, like queserias, panaderias and carnicierias rather than a supermercado. Nonetheless, we continue to visit Disco for its educational meat section.

I’m sure we look like crazy foreigners to the other shoppers. Well, we kind of are. We like to take our time and linger over all of the freshly packaged meats, attempting to decipher the name of each cut and from what part of the cow it comes from. You can’t do this at a carniceria as there is always a line and you need to be ready with your order. And, the sheer number of beef cuts in this country is out of control and a little overwhelming. Before we go over the cuts, let’s first take a look at why Argentine beef is simply the best. Ever.

Why Argentine Beef Tastes Different

The taste of Argentine beef is quite different from that produced in the United States. Also, there are more than 12 distinct breed of cows raised in Argentina, each with its own distinct flavor. The beef is leaner, less fatty and has a distinctive flavor. This is because the cows here are not just grass fed, but Pampas grass fed. I think Idle Words (one of my *favorite* blogs) sums it up pretty well:

“All you need to know about the quality of pasture in the pampas is that cows went feral in Argentina. You can still see them grazing pretty much anywhere there is a horizontal patch of grass, all now firmly back in the hand of man, but still with a happy grassy glint in their eye.

This most docile, placid, and passive of large herbivores stepped off the boat, took one nibble at the pampas and made a run for it. It knew that it wanted to spend the rest of its life eating the pampas grass, without outside interference. And the settlers, once they caught some of the early escapees, began to feel the same way about the beef.”

So there you have it. Now let’s move on to one other important flavor factor before finishing up with the cuts.

Age of Beef

The age of the cow obviously makes a big difference. Personally, I do not support the consumption of veal. I have eaten veal before, but now I am in veal rehab and doing my best to never eat it again. But, I have to include it in this table for reference. Here are the typical categories, from youngest to oldest:

Peceto Ternera - veal round steak

Ternera - veal

Vaquillona - slightly older

Novillito - young steer

Novillo - the most popular cut

Vaca - older beef

And now, to the cuts.

Guide to Cortes de Carne de Vaca

You have been previously warned that the number of cuts is overhwhelming (I believe I used the word “sheer” for emphasis), therefore I am not responsible for any overhwhelming feelings you may experience while reading my neatly organized columns of cuts. Here it goes:

Aguja - Chuck Roast Asado - Short Ribs, Roast Prime Rib Bife Ancho - Prime Rib, Rib Eye Bife Angosto – Porterhouse/Strip Steak Bife a la Rueda - Round Steak Bife de Alcatra - Sirloin Steak Bife de Costilla (con lomo) - T-Bone Steaks Bife de Chorizo - Sirloin Rump Steaks Bife de Vacio - Flank Steak Bola de Lomo - Sirloin Tip Carnaza - Stew Beef Carne Picada Comun - Ground Beef with Fat Carne Picada Especial - Ground Beef without Fat Chinchulin - Lower Intestines Chorizo - Sausage Churrasco de Paleta - Pot Roast Cogote - Neck Colita de Cuadril - Rump Steak Corazon - Heart Costillas - Rib Roast Cuadrada - Bottom Round Cuadril - Rump Roast or Rump Steak Entrana - Skirt Steak Falda - Flank Steak

Higado - Liver Lengua - Tongue Lomo - Tenderloin Marucha - Short Ribs Matambre - Flank Steak Milanesa - Minute Steak Mollejas - Sweetbreads Morcilla - Blood Sausage Nalga - Beef Round for Stew Osobuso - Osso Busco Paleta - Pot Roast Palomita - Shoulder Roast in Butterfly Cut Peceto - Beef Round Steaks, Roast Eye of Round Pecho - Brisket Rabo - Oxtail Rinones - Kidneys Ros Bif - Roast Beef Sesos - Brains Tapa de Asado - Rib Cap Roast Tira de Asado - Short Ribs Tapa de Nalga - Cap of Round Roast Tapa de Cuadril - Cap of Rump Roast Tripa Gorda - Tripe Ubre - Udder Vacio - Flank Steak

So now maybe you understand why we like to spend many educational hours at our local Disco. And don’t forget to read Idle Word’s hilarious post Argentina on Two Steaks a Day.

We’re hoping the next time we go to the Carniceria we don’t end up with a package of meat that directly translates into English as “Lean Ground Anus Beef”. And no, I didn't mean to type "Angus".

-A

Xi'an

NOTE:

No pictures here, since the internet is shaky. Most of the related pictures are posted with the post on cultural differences.. We might update this when a better connection is available!

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Xian, a city that is difficult to pronounce with all front teeth intact, is where the Silk Road originated. The place is known for large Chinese-Muslim and pickpocketing communities. Despite the latter, our stay in Xian was even more amazing than in Beijing thanks to:

1) An amazing hostel ($23/night) with a sauna, free dumpling parties, free hotpot parties, lots of [bootlegged] movies, clean bathroom, and a ping-pong table. Did I mention sauna? Anyway, we stayed in there way too much;

2) Walmart Supercenter.. That's right. Takes on a whole new meaning in this country. A meaning full of beautifully stacked produce, air conditioning, and some assurance of quality -- yes, quality. Beijing had several Wumarts, but no Walmart;

3) Hua Shan Mountain. More on this one below; and

4) Free museums and sights.

The first thing we noticed getting off the overnight train is a wall. We were pretty accustomed to walls at this point, but Xian's wall is the largest and best-preserved city wall in China, boxing the old town and allowing traffic only through the handful of panoramic gates. Smack in the middle of the old town, at the intersection of the main vertical and horizontal arteries, stands a large bell tower, dedicated to the Eight Immortals of Taoism. The tower is decorated with scenes involving the Immortals. Each scene has a title for the slower Taoists, e.g. "Sung travels on the road," "Yung delivers a scroll with a message," and "Song stands outside, wearing a shirt." Pictures were taken.

The west side of the town is Muslim, which always means good food. The market scenes here came with a twist; in addition to the usual buckets of green and red veggies, the locals pull out sand-filled barrels in which the sand is mixed by a metal handle to shell pecans. Growing hungry from walking around the market and the mosque, we found a famous dumplings joint in the neighborhood. The hostess sent us upstairs, past scores of pictures of the owner with various Chinese celebrities (we remained unimpressed). Upstairs the scenery was unusual: one side of the room looked as if the place went out of business entirely, with chairs flipped upside down on tables and piles of trash on the floor, whereas the other side was occupied by regulars, eating dumplings out of round wooden steam-baskets. We took a seat in the 'open' section. This was a miscalculation on our part however, since as soon as the folks around us finished eating, the employees began flipping chairs upside down on tables all around us, sweeping the floor underneath our table, and dusting the windows nearby. For a short while we were the only customers on the upper floor, with every chair around us flipped over on a table, and every waiter dusting the windows with water. Munching on the soup-filled dumplings, we kept looking around to see whether the employees would put up a large 'Closed' sign and go home. Luckily, new patrons arrived, and the waiters set up a couple of tables for eating again. Apparently, the cleaning game was just something the employees did to keep busy -- set up chairs when people come and flip them over when they leave.

We made sure to visit all the biggies during our week in Xian. For most people the highlight is the Terra Cotta Warriors. The story is simple. The guy who unified all of China, its first legit emperor, was an arrogant prick. He decided to build himself an amazing tomb, the size of a small pyramid, with all of the fang shui elements considered (water in the south, mountains on the north, or something like that). He forces peasants and artisans to sculpt a whole army of unique soldiers (over 3,000 people) to be buried along. Then he orders everyone working on the tomb to be killed, so they could not reveal the location of the tomb. Everything goes as planned, and his tomb is forgotten without ever making it to the history books. Some years later peasants find the tomb and burn it out of anger. Some centuries later peasants find it again and make it into a huge tourist attraction. The end. It was alright.

The highlight for us was not the Warriors, but Hua Shan Mountain. Google the name, and the first few searches will tell you that the place is a death trap, which only a handful of tourists survive annually. Moreover, the admission and cable-car prices are astronomical. We could not help it though -- the pictures of the place on the internet were just breath-taking, and so we made the trip. And the mountain is one of the five Taoist mountains, with Taoist temples on the way to the top, red ribbons everywhere, and Taoist music from hidden loudspeakers along the way (??). We only met three other white people on the mountain. Most of the tourists were Chinese folk in business casual attire: suit and dress shoes for men, and high-heels for the ladies. The only food available on the way to the top is not really food at all: ramen noodles, cold noodles with chili, or apples. Prices along the path were proportioned to the altitude. Signage was minimal, mostly in Chinese, with only occasional Chinglish (e.g. "safety propaganda"). I can't do much justice to this place with words, except for saying that this is the most amazing mountain we've ever climbed. And the climb was safer than walking around the Grand Canyon. Loved it!

Charleston & Savannah

Charleston & Savannah

Charleston and Savannah are often mentioned in the same breath as the main historical sites of the Mid-Atlantic part of the country. There is some history involved, but we came for the atmosphere. A wrong turn off the highway brought us smack into the Charleston hood. On a corner, where -- I'm sure -- one of the founding fathers drank his iced tea on Saturday mornings, a young gentleman in a wife-beater shirt was getting on a child-size bike to deliver crack across the neighborhood, no doubt. And while the view changed after a few blocks to Louis Vuitton shopping, we parked the car right next to a police Crown Vic.

The 'battery' of Charleston (aka waterwalk, shorewalk, etc.) features some of the oldest houses in the US. Considering the people used to be shorter, these houses must have seemed enormous at the time: three stories of tall windows surrounded by a wide covered porch all around. Through these windows and balconies we saw chandeliers, full-size stairs, wall paintings, and one-piece wood dining tables. Abby declared that she will move into one of these in her lifetime.

Savannah is all about squares. The old town is checkered with block-long squares erected in the memory of local celebrities, such as John Calhoun and James Madison. Each square has at the very least a statue, two benches, and a tourist (gawking up, mouth open, camera hanging). The fanciest of them have beautiful churches attached, historical houses, and a couple of homeless folks. Between changing the oil in the car in the most historical Firestone in Charleston we sampled the following:

Shova: Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, beer (20% consumed), green beans, stuffed mushrooms, pecan pie, salad.

Bruisef: Fried oyster sandwich (15% consumed), salad, beer (80% consumed), George Washington's Pie (two slices of bread pudding with vanilla sauce and guilt (optional)), bread pudding from Express Bakery, pecan pie.

Best picture today: Abby polishing off fried chicken on the sofa in the historical Firestone in front of a flat screen TV with college football on.

Myrtle Beach and Sunset Beach

9/16/2010

Road to Myrtle Beach

On the way to Myrtle we stopped at Sunset.. After crossing a wooden bridge on a swamp, we passed 20 white beach houses to find a 2-car parking lot (1 taken) and a sand path through the grass. On the other side was a quiet beach, covered with soft white sand and 70-degree breeze. We stayed to share the warm water with 10-12 people, and lying out to dry the salty skin.

The drive from Sunset to Myrtle was covered with discount stores ("Nothing over $5.99!! (in selected section)"), crab shacks ("I got crabs from Dirty Dick's"), adventure theme mini-golf joints with enormous pirate and sealife displays, and pancake houses.

Myrtle Beach is the place you get emails about, with $29 hotels and $89 roundtrip flights. Unsurprisingly, it looks like Miami, with a wall of hotels protecting the public beach from gawking families packed into domestic sedans with VA, NC, and SC plates. Our first thought was to get out and backtrack to the beautiful and deserted Sunset Beach, but the low rates and the oceanfront rooms drew us in to stay for the night.

9/17/2010-9/18-2010

More Sunset Beach

Nevertheless, we got the heck out in the morning and drove right back to Sunset Beach past the same discount stores and mini-golf mini-courses. Of all the pancake houses along the way we decided to go with the most obvious choice -- Plantation House of Pancakes. Aside from the preppiest male host I've ever seen, we were the only ones younger than 50 and weighing less than 220lbs. That's how they knew we were not locals. Well, that and the lack of the local tan and accent. South Carolina is truly the deepest south there is, y'all.

After ordering coffee, Abby noticed that the creamer, although in the familiar plastic cups, contains no dairy. This discovery began our search for real food in this joint. The Plantation House of Pancakes does not carry butter; instead, guests are offered '52% Vegetable Spread.' Although it was reassuring to know that the majority of that spread has been identified, the rest of the ingredients were unclear. We continued our search for food by ordering strawberries on the pancakes. By the time they reached our table, the 4 strawberries were maraschino'd in a thick layer of cough-syrup flavor glaze. The last feat of chemistry was the intractable coffee: no matter how much milk (real 2%, served upon a special request) Abby poured into the thing, it remained black. I made it; but Shova required crackers later on the road.

We finally made it back to Sunset Beach to enjoy another heavenly afternoon, with perfect temperature (much cooler than Myrtle for some reason), tall green waves (one of us body-surfed with a child's body-board), and soft sun and sand. Couldn't help but notice 4-5 guys fishing right where we were swimming. I did not believe that there were any fish in those shallow sandy waters. We talked to one and he showed us his loot: an average-size edible fish of some sort and a throwaway: a small shark, teeth intact. Spent the rest of our time on the towels.