Strange coincidences seem to be the theme of my 2014. Instead of progressing naturally towards the future, my life seems to have come to a temporary halt to peek back at what I’ve left scattered behind – unfinished business all over the globe. Opportunities for closure seem to present themselves readily and I, recognizing them…
There was a burger joint here. And it looked pretty cool. My recent visit to Argentina was just a bit overwhelming. It was a week full of “what if”‘s, “if only”‘s, and “well I’m glad I didn’t…”‘s. There were 1-in-a-million chance ex-boyfriend spottings and ghosts lurking around every corner. There were effeminate hissy fits from more recent flings and a dramatic,…
There’s a new lunch deal to be found just North of Pennsylvania Ave, at NoPa (Kitchen + Bar) that is! The newest D.C. venture of restauranteur Ashok Bajaj, NoPa opened in May of 2013 and is still in the process of growing into its idealic Penn Quarter location. Elegant and impressive with a rustic-industrial décor, the restaurant faces the…
I have the same type of love/hate relationship with Las Cañitas in Buenos Aires as with South Beach or LKF in Hong Kong. These are polished up neighborhoods designed to attract tourists and expats like moths to the neon-tinted flame. In each one there is usually at least one fake-ass “Tuscan Trattoria” with red and white checked, plastic tablecloths. There…
“But we can go somewhere else,” he offered nervously. Even before landing in Mendoza he had brought up the idea of treking out to this place on the outskirts of the city. But he seemed to think I wanted to sit on touristed Sarmiento swirling a glass of overpriced wine with the sun bouncing off my chalk-white skin.…
Another great little empanada I had was at a place called Zitto on easy-breezy Ave. Sarmiento in the heart of Mendoza. I guess the place is known more for its pizzas than anything else, but an important thing I’ve learned during my time in Argentina is that a place with good pizza is guaranteed to…
My landlady in Argentina was often times like a mother to me, taking the place of my actual mama who was no longer just a T ride away. She’d sometimes become annoyed when I’d leave my room in disarray and she’d tell me (in front of friends) “Te engordaste. Se ve en tus brazos” when…
Raw morcilla, he said. I thought he was joking. He’s a man who is freaked out by meat that has to be chewed off bone. So….no chicken wings. He also doesn’t “do” garlic unless he is blissfully unaware of its presence in a dish. But uncooked blood sausage? No problem. I took his word when…
At the beginning of my trip back to the Bee-Ay there was nothing I craved more than the traditional stuff I had subsisted on when I lived there. I wanted steaming hot empanadas, gooey provoleta sprinkled with oregano and the array of steaks and offal that make up any proper Argentine asado. At one point…
I’ve been hungover in a variety of cities and have learned the perfect local cure in a handful of them. In Chile it’s a plate of chorrillana. In Hong Kong it’s a mango puree in Mongkok and char siu bao from the closest bakery. In Argentina it’s choripán. I’ve serenaded this thing, referring to it as the “king of…
That Best Bite 