This will be about food.

Today I bought what has turned out to be perhaps the best hunk of salami I've ever eaten. I was coming home from working on the farm and this guy on the street had the most irresistible basket full of cured meats and cheese. OK so most people know I come from an "Italian" family, and to us that means that every Sunday since the day I was born, these things have been a staple. Salami, pepperoni, prosciutto, more stuff I don't even know the names of... plus cheese, olives, whatever special things Nani had on hand that day, bread and wine. Anyway, it's the ultimate comfort food other than sauce. Or gravy, depending on your geographic location (wassssup Jersey!). So here I am blogging, chowing down on some olives from Menoza and this heavenly salami from Cordoba. I'm getting the salami grease all over this keyboard, and Kendra the vegetarian is going to love me for it. What's more - whole way home, all I was thinking about was the huge hunk of skirt steak in my fridge and bottle of malbec on the table. At this very moment, I could die satisfied. Mannnn when I go to Mendoza I'm going to turn purple from all the wine I'll drink. Can't wait.

Also on food, there is a severe lack of spicy options here, something that makes me a little bit anxious. So my vegetable lady, who sometimes has random awesome things like cilantro, plantains, and gorgeous tomatoes, whipped out some aji picante the other day when I was lamenting about the spice issue. First off, the veggie lady is awesome. All the Spanish that I knew before I got here is what I've learned from Mexicans, and to a tiny extent from Dominicans. As far as fruits and veggies go, the names here are different and apparently sound really funny. So I've relearned the Argentinian names for things like avocado and strawberry from her, when she isn't laughing her ass off at me. Anyway, back to the hotness. She whips out these little red chiles and I got 8. I tried one when I got home and it wasn't spicy at all. Of course. So later I put a few in the skillet with my steak to roast em up a little. Holy hell, cooking them was like having a tear gas bomb go off in the apartment. So I bit into one, excitedly anticipating the burn in my mouth, that kind that hurts soooo good, and BAM it freaking tore my face off!! I felt so... alive! Man oh man I sure do love eating. Sweating, panting, drooling, just like at my 21st birthday over the cake I had with my Aunt Denae and Nani at this stupid French restaurant in Manhattan.... I mean, the restaurant wasn't stupid, it was just really weird being in a place where people were eating so quietly. Maybe they weren't having fun or maybe they were just enjoying the shit out of the food because it was that good. Anyway, if the French weren't so pretentious, they really would have it all. But I guess I can't blame them, since they have come up with some pretty awesome things.

Argentinians love to talk about how 'Italian' they are, kind of like me. They always say it with exaggerated gesticulation and use it as an excuse as to why no one is direct here. You never say what you mean, but rather what will earn you the most social grace, much like in the South. But then they eat things like milanesa and polenta and claim it's Argentinian. I like listening to what people here say about their country, and the most truthful thing yet is from Lorena - it is riddled with contradictions. When I went with Kendra to get a cell phone at the rental place, the guy was in the middle of telling us that everyone in Argentina is thin, in good shape, and has great skin, when one of the fattest people I've ever seen walked through, barely squeezing through the doorway. The time I've spent here has been full of silly little moments like that.

Que mas... well I'm still just going on, getting my mind blown every time I go to La Juanita, and having fun at the farm. Both projects together are a great balance because I get to see so much from very different perspectives, and without them, I would be in Argentina with barely any need to speak Spanish-something that has been driving me crazy! Plus, I take home bread and things from the bakery, and today I took some squashes from the farm. I have been getting lettuce, onions, and whatever else is good day to day, and it's all organic, and things that I've been working on growing, I love it.

Our bathroom toilet is broken. This happened back home just about every other weekend (or every time I used it) so I do know my way around the back of a toilet tank, but now a piece is broken off and I have it held together with string. It's... precarious. What I love about renting is being able to shrug problems off on a landlord. Just make a call and wait. As long as the downstairs neighbors don't come over first to tell us we're flooding their apartment, haha.

OK, last thing about food. When Justin was here I got my first taste of the Argentine Parilla. Besides Tango, I think that's the thing this country is most known for. You can't really mess up grilled meat, but the meat we had was really damn good. You basically just order different cuts off the menu and that's it. There are a mountain of side options, but each piece of meat just comes by itself. So we decided on chorizo, mollejas, and bife de chorizo... sausage, sweet breads, and a good ole T-bone. I've always been a fan of sweetbreads but I'd never had them grilled before and damn! It's not for everyone, but that gland made me want to bless the cow, and the farmer who kept it so happy. Meat here lives up to its reputation.

Alright, well I've got a busy afternoon to look forward too. My friend is in Palermo at the park, so that's what I've got going on. I need to quit blogging about food and eat some, then go clean up and get outta here.