The Pork Sandwich

Not long after we arrived in Buenos Aires, we found ourselves in a largely-expat bar watching college basketball next to a porteño named Abel. Fortunately for everyone, especially us, Abel speaks English fluently and told us about all the best places in the city to eat. Most importantly, he told us about his favourite pork sandwich, which is available at a small parrilla near the entrance to the ecological reserve.

As today was our penultimate Saturday in Buenos Aires, we finally decided to go on our pork pilgrimage. On the bus to the ecological reserve, we realized that we didn't know exactly which parrilla in the ecological reserve would have the fabled sandwich, so Ken texted Abel.

Ken: Hey, we're on the lookout for the legendary pork sandwich. How do we recognize the right stand?

Abel: It is the second one from the entrance of the ecological reserve. Mi parrillon or el parrillon. Who is this?

Ken told him it was us asking, to which Abel replied, "I thought so. Pork sandwich is an important matter. Only put chimichurri." He also advised us to get a choripán.

We found the parrilla, like an oasis in the dessert, only instead of water, it was full of delicious, delicious meat. We ordered the super bondiolita al limon - the super pork sandwich with lemon. The dude working at the parrilla sliced strips of pork off of a hunk, then put them on the hot grill and squirted lemon juice on top. After turning them a few times, he put the grilled strips on a warm roll and we slathered it with chimichurri. The sandwich was a study in delicious contrasts. The meat was juicy and perfectly cooked and salty and sweet, like all good pork should be. The bun was soft and crusty and perfectly absorbed the excess juices. Needless to say, our pork sandwich didn't last long.

We had a choripán for dessert.

Fruit of the Day: Nêspera

We've been back in Buenos Aires, and unfortunately, winter, for almost two weeks. Despite an ample supply of fresh fruit (including many delicious citrus varieties - the mandarins here are amazing!) at our local verdularía, we miss our regular expeditions to the grocery store in Brazil, in which we rarely came home without a new and exotic fruit.

Like the nêspera, which also goes by loquat.

A loquat is about the same colour as an apricot, is shaped like a pear, and is fuzzier than a peach. How summery!

Inside, a loquat contains beautiful seeds that look like polished wood.

The skin was very easy to peel off, making it that much easier to eat this tasty little fruit. The loquat's flavour is mild and vaguely reminiscent of a pear, maybe one that was spritzed with honey. A little fuzzy honey-spritzed pear. And I suspect it would make a delicious jam, with very little sugar added.

Summery, indeed.
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Fruit of the Day: Jatobá

Based on various descriptions I read on the interwebs, a snippet of the jatobá's Zagat review might read something like this:

This fruit has an "offensive" odour "similar to strong cheese". It is sometimes called "stinking toe" because of its smell.

Yay.

The jatobá (also called "Brazilian cherry," even though as far as I could tell there is nothing cherry-like about it) looks like a giant tamarind, and its pods are very hard. So hard that they're used to make wood! And so hard that, to crack one open, I had to put it under the leg of a chair, and then not just sit on the chair (...nothing!) but actually stomp my foot on the seat, at which point the jatobá pod finally gave in.

The flesh, if you could call it that, was quite dry, almost like plaster. It surround two very hard seeds. And I can confirm that the jatobá did, indeed, smell quite strong. I tasted a bit of it, and looks (and smell) were not deceiving: Jatobá tastes like pungent plaster.

I'm glad for its sake that it turns into nice-looking wood.
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Fruit of the Day: Membrillo

A very common dessert here in Buenos Aires is queso y dulce, which just means "cheese and sweet". The dulce in question is a very thick jam, so thick that it's sliceable, made of either membrillo or batata (sweet potato). You might be more familiar with the English name for dulce de membrillo: quince paste. It's commonly served in Spain with manchego cheese, and it is delicious. And until now, I had no idea it was made from fruit!

Fruit that looks a lot like a pear, both inside and out.

The membrillo, or quince, is very hard, and was much harder to cut than a pear. At one point I thought it had a big pit because it was so difficult to get my knife through the center. It does taste vaguely like a pear, with almost the exact texture of a potato. Ken had a strong (negative) reaction to its texture and starchiness. I was less offended, and even kind of liked it. I don't think quince is generally eaten raw, so I'm going to try my hand at making quince paste with the remainder of our FotD.
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Fruit of the Day: Kimkam

¡Hola amigos! As you may have gathered with your superior sleuthing skills, we're back in Buenos Aires. Just in case you weren't sure, I have included our handy adventure map (at left. Click to enlarge). There is a small correction on that map: It should read "Gillian & Ken Return to Winter".

I'm very excited about today's fruit. It's called kimkam, which is Portuguese for kumquat, which I've heard all about but never seen before. Kumquats look like tiny oranges. Inside, they have very pretty little green seeds. Better still, kumquats are delicious! I ate a few with the peel, which is extremely fragrant, and a few without, which was more trouble than it was worth. I skipped the inside part surrounding the seeds, but my good friend Wikipedia tells me that the whole fruit can be eaten, with the sour/salty inside providing a contrast to the sweeter outer rind.

On top of all that, the name "kinkan" reminds me of Kon Kan, a band I loved in high school. In fact, I didn't know until just this moment that Kon Kan is Canadian! The kimkam has already taught me so much, and now this. Thank you, kimkam.
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Fruit of the Day: Graviola

In late-reporting districts, graviola (soursop in English) tied things up with cupuaçu in last week's FotD poll, so here he is, in all his glory:

I'd seen a lot of graviola-flavoured ice cream and juice when we were in Salvador, but never the fruit itself, so I was pretty excited when we came across this guy at a fruit stand in Brasília. He's a big fellow, and probably weighed in at a kilo or more. We carried him around in a backpack the day we bought him, and by the end of the day we'd grown quite fond of today's fruit and had even nicknamed him Little Gravi. He sat in our hostel room overnight and we continued to marvel at his weirdness.

The day after we bought him, we sliced him open. We knew he was related to our beloved pinha, so we were quite excited to try him out. Unfortunately, Little Gravi didn't live up to our (albeit lofty) expectations. Graviola has a simlar creamy texture to both the pinha and the cupuaçu, but it wasn't nearly as sweet and custardy. I did later try sweetened graviola juice, and it tasted a lot more like pinha, and I'm sure I could be persuaded to try graviola ice cream, you know, if the opportunity presented itself.
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Fruit of the Day: Açai

It wouldn't have been a trip to Brazil without sampling some açai. Açai isn't available fresh - apparently the berries don't last for much more than 24 hours after they're harvested, so they're processed (frozen or freeze-dried) immediately after they're picked. In Brazil, açai is readily available frozen as açai na tigela, though, which simply means açai in a bowl. The options for açai na tigela are plentiful: You can get it mixed with any one of another delicious fruit, and/or topped with fruit salad, sliced bananas, or granola.

We had açai na tigela twice. The first time was at a salad/juice bar along the coast in Salvador, where we ordered it blended with mango. The medium-sized bowl was huge, and came with a little packet of granola to pour on top. The second time was at a mall in Brasília, where we ordered it with sliced bananas and granola on top. I also sampled the frozen açai pulp (it overpowered any other fruit with which I mixed it) and a drink called Guaraviton, a soft drink that's a blend of guaraná (yet another fruit) and açai. (Straight-up guaraná is a popular soda flavour in Brazil. It apparently has more caffeine than Coke, and tastes a lot like cream soda. I love it.)

As I mentioned, açai na tigella is served frozen, like sherbet, and is very dark purple. It almost tastes like frozen raspberries, or like a blend of berries - in other words, it's delicious! We both preferred the second bowl, sans mango, which may have been in part because it was garnished with a piece of papaya in the shape of a heart. I certainly can't confirm any weight-loss claims made by proponents of açai, but that may be because açai was often sold right next to irresistable Brazilian pão de queijo (cheese bread).
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