WanderingWhy…

Throughout our trip, I have taken on the roll of a vegetarian for the most part. Everyone who knows me knows I will eat chicken and fish, and that is about it. And even those two items I am pretty picky about. I won’t eat chicken on the bone, I won’t eat whole fish, etc. I’m a real pain in the butt when it comes to food. Steak, pork chops, roast beef I had pretty much swore off since I left home for college. I don’t like the consistency/thickness of meat, and after Gross Anatomy their fate in my life was sealed.

On this trip, it has been easier to say I am vegetarian. A lot of fish and chicken was fried in the homestays and rather than hurt someone’s feelings with my pickiness, it was easier to say I don’t eat meat at all. Although being served a fried egg instead of meat is hard to pull off when it is runny….what did I tell you? I am a pain in the butt when it comes to food. And in restaurants I never know if the fish/chicken will come with bones attached. Anything that looks like it did in its former life is off my menu, and even having a grasp of Spanish is no guarantee this will not occur.

I also don’t really drink. There is not much I enjoy in the way of alcohol because of the taste. Except when my friend Deb makes chocolate martinis, which is another story. But otherwise, Sean is on his own enjoying his vino while I drink my aqua.

Enter Argentina. Argentina is a Mecca for foodies like Sean–cheap quality steak is right up his alley. He has been dreaming of the culinary magic here since we left the states. So on our first full day in Argentina, he had steak on the brain. We went to a restaurant recommended by our guidebook and hostel. He ordered his slab of beef, 700ml of Argentinean wine, and I ordered a salad.

Due to our gringo lack of knowledge of the metric system, the wine arrives as a full bottle. Who knew? (aside from the rest of the world). The waiter pours both of us a glass before I can tell him no. Hmmm…okay, I will at least try it. I try it, and LOVE IT. It is fantastic! I drink my equivalent of a glass before the salad comes.

My salad arrives with Sean’s steak. Sean is crying with joy as he lovingly takes bite after bite, singing the glory of grass fed beef. Now I have a nice afternoon buzz with my newly acquired status as a wine connoisseur and I think, it can’t be THAT good. So with the wine talking, I ask for a bite.

I have not eaten steak for at least 15 years, and had no intention of ever eating it again. So I try a piece. And it is really, really good! It is not like beef at home; it is not tough, grisly, bloody, fatty, or any other thing I remember about steak–not even the same as really good quality steak at home. You can cut this with your fork, it does not take 800 chews to swallow, and has an unbelievable taste. I had the equivalent of about 4 mouthfuls, cut up into tiny pieces just in case I had to spit it out, but I have to say I enjoyed every bite.

Will I order a steak in a restaurant? No. Will I ask Sean for a bite of his? Yes. And will I wash it down with some Argentinean wine? Absolutely. WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO ME??????