Fútbol, & the Art of the Asado

Argentina is nominally a Catholic country. It’s even written into the constitution. But the real religion of Argentina is fútbol (soccer). We arrived in mid-December, during the World Cup playoffs. The entire country was at a fever pitch. It was a treat to watch the championship game with Lucas’ family & friends, our AirBnB host here in Mendoza. Watching them was almost as entertaining as the game itself – ecstatic joy when Argentina scored, and agonizing despair when France rallied.

If I were to summarize the reaction to Argentina’s eventual victory in one word, it would be delirium. There was literally dancing in the streets, horns honking, impromptu parades and fireworks everywhere (Argentinos love their fireworks). People hugged me as I walked down the street, trying to take it all in.

One of the things I try to do in my travels is to go beyond just sightseeing; to get beneath the tourist veneer of museums and monuments, to experience at least a bit of everyday life. In Argentina that means going to a fútbol game.

Independiente Rivadavia is a Mendoza team in the second tier of Argentina’s professional league. Their home stadium is just few blocks from our house, so that’s where I headed. The team and their fans refer to themselves as los Lepros – the Lepers, which I found surprising and mildly disturbing. Then I learned that the stadium was built near the site of what was, during the 1800’s, Mendoza’s leprosy colony. Opponents nicknamed the club los Lepros, as an insult. But the club and their fans took the name and made it their own.

Getting a ticket to be un Lepro for a day wasn’t as easy as I thought. Tickets are not sold to the visiting team’s fans, to prevent open warfare in the stands. Even with my Gringo accent, I had to show my passport to prove I wasn’t a rival fan in disguise. There was still a strong police presence in case things got out of hand, including a contingent of the riot squad, even with a 100% hometown crowd. As I said, Argentinos are passionate about their fútbol.

It was a raucous affair. The singing and drumming started before the opening kick-off and continued well after the game ended. The referees were jeered and opposing players abused.  Streamers of toilet paper were hurled with abandon. The handheld fireworks alarmed me a bit, but didn’t seem to phase the police. Everyone was having a good time. Even the game was entertaining, with los Lepros trouncing the miscreants from Mitre, 4 to 1.

If it is fútbol that feeds the Argentine soul, it is asado that feeds the body. One surefire way to offend an Argentino is to compare asado to a BBQ. An asado is so much more than just the grilling of meat.  There is a huge social dimension to an asado and the preparation itself is something of a art. It really is a core component of Argentine identity – hard to appreciate until you’ve been here. Liz and I decided to take an asado class to delve deeper into these mysteries. Or at least as much as one can learn in an evening.

Every house in Argentina has a brick and iron parrilla (grill), so our host and teacher, Mauricio, held the class in his backyard. The first step is building the fire.  Any kind of hardwood can be used. The main thing is to get good coals. Don’t even think of mentioning a propane fired BBQ – Argentina has abolished the death penalty, but they might reconsider for such a grievous crime.

While the fire was getting going, we prepared the chimichurri – a tangy blend of chopped parsley, garlic, oregano, oil & vinegar. This and copious amounts of salt are the only seasonings you’ll find at an asado. This is cooking at its simplest and purest – fire, meat and a grill. It derives from the gaucho history of Argentina – hardy cowboys with little besides their knives, the cattle they herded, and perhaps some salt. Argentinos claim to have the best beef in the world and they may be right. They scoff at our use of spices and marinades as simply being a way to hide the inferior quality of our meat.

I understand the logic and the truth is that really good beef cooked over coals from a natural wood fire is a  magical, mouthwatering combination. But I don’t think I’ll ever completely give up my marinades and sauces. However, for now…

The fire is kept to the side of the grill in a hanging cast-iron basket. Coals are raked from the fire and spread thinly under the grill as needed – slow, low heat cooking is essential to a proper asado. The types of meat grilled can vary, but there are always sausages – beef, pork and/or blood sausage, preferably all three. No part of the cow is wasted. Achuras (offal) such as sweetbreads, kidneys and intestines are an asado delicacy. Next are the beef short ribs – this is not optional. And finally one or more types of steak – sirloin, rib-eye, skirt and/or flank. It sounds like a lot of meat, and it is, but consider that the average Argentino eats about 110 kg of meat a year. Remember, this a country where vegetarians are served chicken.

At large asados, particularly in the countryside, whole pigs, lambs or goats may be cooked ‘a la cruz’ – flayed on an iron cross, cooked slowly, staked over a fire and basted with brine and herbs. I never got to try this, but it looks amazing.

Mauricio made space on the parrilla for a few grilled vegetables – peppers, sweet potatoes, onions and tomatoes. The roma tomatoes, sliced in half and grilled cut side down were particularly delicious with a dollop of chimichurri. Simple salads are another option, but a true Argentino doesn’t need vegetables to justify his/her meat consumption. The only other essential item is bread – crusty pan miñon or francés to sop up the juices. And of course, a good bottle of Argentinian Malbec, or in my case a jug of lemonade.

For you foodies out there, Mauricio shared his asado instructions and recipes in a pdf, which you can download here – ARGENTINEAN ASADO RECIPE. There are a few other goodies included such as his empanada recipe and one for pickled eggplant. The website “Pick Up the Fork” also has an excellent “Guide to the Argentine Asado”.

The whole process takes at least a couple of hours, even with some prep ahead of time. But if you’ve done it right, when you sit down you’ll be greeted with the traditional salute of “un aplauso para el asador” – a round of applause for the grill master. And no one will go away hungry.