I think it’s time I confessed it: I am an addict. Not booze, not drugs… my current vice is SPICE.

I’m not talking about dunes and sandworms here, it’s a scorched palate and breath of fire that I crave. And it’s in shockingly low supply here in Mendoza, Argentina.

Most North Americans, when they think of South American food, associate it with lots of spice. The truth of the matter (sad, for us food obsessed expats) is that THIS far south…. not so much.

I have a theory that it’s latitudinal, with heat decreasing in reverse correlation with distance from the equator;  there is as little heat in typical Argentine cuisine as there is in… German schnitzel. (Which there also happens to be a hell of a lot of here, under the pseudonym ‘milanesa.’)

(Brief geeky tangent: Mendoza’s latitude is 33S. For comparison: New York City is 40N, Paris - 48N. At 40S, you’re almost in Patagonia. Major points go to whoever can tell me which major North American city is at 33N… just don’t publicly disprove my theory. And it doesn’t count if you use Google Earth.)

Now, food wise, what the Argentines do well, they do VERY well. The meat here is incomparable, as are the empanadas (especially when you find really good ones). There is yummy fresh pasta, and I’ve never known anybody to put as much love into a sandwhich as Mendocinos (except for possibly Uruguayans). Furthermore, as a life-long salt fiend I love to watch the asador (grill master) coat each cut of beef with salt before throwing it on the parilla (grill). My friends (and my doctor) can all vouch for this.

However, the seasoning options just about end there. Call me what you will - ‘food snob’ is one I’ve heard more than a couple of times, as is ’spoiled brat’ - but I’ve been overindulged by culinary variety for far too long. I grew up in one of the most diverse parts of the American “melting pot”, spent a year living in Northern Italy’s culinary capital, and then to top it all off spent years working in the New York City restaurant scene.

What can I say - I’m a product of my experience. For better or worse, my experience contains a lot of ‘ese’ - Chinese, Japanese… also Mexican, Thai, and Indian. I never knew how much I loved all of these things until I was faced with their absence. Now that there’s no Thai delivery and take-out sushi in my life, I cook with chili peppers every chance I get. When I go to Buenos Aires for the weekend, I take the opportunity to torture my taste buds as much as possible.

Not really the best policy for somebody who makes a living from tasting wine, but I already admitted to having a problem. In this case, rather than recovery, acceptance is the first step towards gratification.

To best profit from the more varied culinary scene in Argentina’s capital, I stuff as much ethnic food into my mouth as possible. (I even made my parents meet me for Moroccan food on their very first night in Buenos Aires!) Recently my top choice has been Vietnamese - not actually something I had much exposure to before coming here. Thank you to Sudestada, a spectacular southeast Asian fusion restaurant in Palermo (blending primarily Vietnamese and Thai) I learned what I’ve been missing. I will honestly say that Sudestada is currently my favorite restaurant in the world.

Here on the home front I stick with the aforementioned Argentine classics: more meat than is good for me, and empanadas from the one place in town with ‘carne picante’ that actually burns. I’ve started frequenting Mendoza’s central market which has not only an impressive selection of meats and cheeses, but also vegetable stands that carry technicolored chili peppers. Despite the limited resources I have at my disposal, I manage to stoke the flames of my addiction.

June 18th, 2008 | gastronomia, vita