comida -¿hay otra cosa?

Interesting as it is to see what a family from another culture eats like, I feel like there’s lard coming out of my pores.
We eat good food here, and there’s definitely always enough for me (at points I’ve literally had to defend my plate with my fork to prevent Lili from spooning more onto it) but I want my veggies, damnit! And I’m not exactly a vegan or a health food nut (although I suppose that depends on your definition of health food nut). There’s usually meat and potatoes in something in every dinner, and I’m pretty sure that when Lili lets her brain stop running the automatic filler is for her to say “Hay pollo, ¿sabes?” [There’s chicken, you know!] – because there is. Always.
This isn't just a complaint about my host family (I shouldn't complain at all, really: they buy me cake at random); this country in general does not value its greens.

¡Miravos el queso!

I’ve been noticing lately that people often ask each other what they ate. I feel like this would be Awkward Small Talk in the U.S., but my host mother or the random girls trying on clothes in the fitting room next to mine seem genuinely interested in whether it was spinach ravioli or cheese someone else had for dinner yesterday, and who cooked it, and what kind of sauce was on it. Good grief.

Parrilla en la Feria de Mataderos. I think the smell would have been much more expressive than this picture.

You can get nearly everything delivered, from ice cream to sushi to alcohol to a fresh cup of coffee in a ceramic cup, poured in front of you. This is probably the reason that I haven’t seen anyone eating while walking (unless you count mate – thermos and all – and the amount that Argentines carry mate around is nothing compared to the Uruguayans). It isn’t uncommon to see the occasional waiter with a covered tray popping out of a café, though, or to have to dodge the food delivery scooters when they decide the sidewalk is the faster route, pedestrians be damned. Food is not for ‘on the go,’ it’s to sit down and enjoy!

This is the chivito uruguayo. It contains: a hamburger patty, a slice of cheese, bacon, and an egg. (Plus bread, ketchup, mustard, and a single piece of lettuce… and corn or mayo if you want it). I can feel the cholesterol attack from here.

I’d be willing to bet Argentina’s cholesterol levels aren’t great, as a country. I’m not saying they eat unhealthily, despite their love of meat and their propensity to stuff dulce de leche into everything. I imagine the average American doesn’t eat that well either, and, well, we all survive without being ‘foodies’. One thing I’ve realized, being here, is that my family at home eats really, really well (and yes, I am unreasonably smug about it). But I suspect that Argentines enjoy their food more, in general, than Americans do.

Alfajorjito.

Damn. Now I’m hungry. I’ll have to fill up on empanadas and medialunas and alfajores before I leave; those are something I’ll really miss.