One bitter evening, Angie and I decided to brave the local restaurant circuit to see what we could consume that wasn't pizza and didn't have a previous life as a creature. The restauranteurs sit outside their establishments spruiking for business, spouting profusely about the quality of the local specialty (baby goat) and giving each other sly, 'haha' glances when they score a gringo or two. One such character barely skipped a beat when we told him 'no podemos comer carne', so we decided to let ourselves be led inside.
I took the safest path on the menu, vegetable pasta. Angie was reckless, and took the eggplant milenesa (like a schnitzel) road, but backed up that with another 'I don't eat meat' affirmation. Just to be sure she added a vehement 'sin jamon' (without ham). (Ham isn't really considered meat here, more of a condiment, like tomato sauce. It materialises in the most unlikely places). The confused look on the now double-warned waiter should have been all the warning we needed to cut our losses and get out of there. But for some reason, we stayed, even after our waiter returned, once again to really make sure Angie didn't want anything slain on her plate.
The food arrived. The pasta was fine. The 'eggplant' was a pounded slab of veal around 60cm square. Angie ate a couple of pieces just to be sure, called over the waiter an he informed us that they didn't have eggplant milenesas. Chips and salad provided yet another 'meal'.
As a nice coda to that unpleasantness, Angie spent the next day in bed with a suspected case of bad-veal-induced-food-poisoning.
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1 comment:
G'day,
we are back in LA now, and the weather seems warmer than you have been experiencing recently... but sure do miss being on the road.. loving the photos on the blog..
-Andrew
PS. I think we cooked the entire time we were in Cafayate.. but the Torrontes is wonderful.
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