Sunday, February 23, 2014

Churrasoueria – El Peregrino

... our seat at the window of the Churrasqueria ...
“I have the place you want to eat. Come, follow me,” Greg said to us.

Greg  had no idea we would stay.

He led us through the stalls to a bar and sandwich establishment where local people were eating.

The Churrasoueria

Large pieces of chicken were off to the side of the grill, and we walked down the counter, not able to really see what the menu was.

No sandwich board up high. I wandered through the tables to see what people were eating – I could see salad and meat. That was enough for me. I was hungry. The waitress cleaned off a table under the T.V. but Wyona could see a better move for us would be at the front window where we could see the people in the market strolling by the stalls.

... divide by 7 ...
no item on the menu over $7 Canadian

The waitress handed us a menu which we couldn't read.  No English there.

We could figure out the Coke and the beer at the bottom of the menu, and we were pretty sure pollo was chicken.

When the waitress could see that we couldn't speak enough Spanish, she began pointing to her body parts, first hitting her thigh and then hitting her chest, which is when we figured out she was asking us, do you want a leg or a breast of chicken.

The diner didn’t seem to have people staying.

 More customers came in with an order, paid at the till and were gone again.

We watched a table of men ahead of us share their food.

... using my camera to study someone else's food ...
The oldest had ordered an escalope (boneless meat thinned out with a mallet and cooked in bread crumbs).

The area of the escalope was so large, that it spilled over the side of his 10” plate.

 I looked at the height and the diameter of his side order. A plate of mashed potatoes – maybe three cups of them, maybe four. He dug in with relish, a bite of the meat with his fork and knife, then three or four forkfuls of the potatoes, then back to the meat.

Greg said he is not leaving Argentina until he gets a tortilla de papa.

 In another world, it looked like a close cousin to a Spanish frittata.

Greg said he was mesmerized by the height, the size, the golden crispy exterior and by the fact that the other guys at the table were sharing it.

Half for one, half for the other, and then they would take it back to the grill and get it warmed up when the heat was out of it.

... eating is only getting a rest from shopping in the market ...
We looked at our bottle of coke.  The tallest bottle we had evern seen -- not 2 litres but 2.251 litres.

We haven't seen that before.

We finished it off.  With Greg's help.

Arta

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