One of the most beautiful landscapes I was fortunate enough to see in Argentina was the Quebrada de Cafayate. Quebrada in Spanish literally means ‘broken’ and refers in geological terms to a deep valley or ravine. Despite having lived in Australia for most of my life, I have sadly never been to the ‘Red Centre’ but I reckon the vivid colours of this part of Northern Argentina would give it a run for its money.
The main attractions in the valley lie along the Route 68 that runs from Salta to Cafayate. As such most things can be viewed comfortably from a tour bus window with little pit stops along the way. This is how I chose to do it because I was lacking on time and I felt I saw everything I wanted to, but it was a little rushed. It would have been nicer to do it at my own pace in a car and at a different time of day, for example early evening, when the lighting is supposed to be at its best and there are less tourists on the road.
So what has this got to do with food? Not a lot really. Of course I did eat along the way, and a couple of things are worth noting, which I will do in due course. But mainly this is an excuse to share the spectacular photos of the valley itself:
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Now, to food. These tours start super early and I had not planned far enough ahead to arrange breakfast. I had some cookies stashed in case things got desperate but when we pulled up at the Garganta del Diablo (Devil’s Throat) I saw a roadside stall selling tortillas de queso (cheese tortillas). I wasn’t expecting much – my idea of a good tortilla is packed full of spicy pulled pork or beans and cheese, guacamole, salsa and sour cream – but I should know by now that sometimes the simple things are the best.
The cheese was salty and tangy and dribbled deliciously everywhere just as melted cheese should and the tortillas were freshly made, rolled to order and cooked to a charcoal crisp on the open flame, imparting a wonderful smoky flavour.
As with most of these organised tours the choice of restaurant for lunch was nothing flash, something to suit all budgets. They usually offer a menu of the day and the food is rarely exceptional. I tend to go with the safe options in such places, the things that you see on every menu which you know won’t be prime specimens but which are still edible even when they are a badly made.
Empanadas are such a food – when they are good they are juicy, spicy and meaty and served fresh from the deep fryer or oven; when they are bad they are dry or stodgy and soggy from being reheated in a microwave. But they are rarely bland. I chose empanadas for my starter and they were as I expected, dry and soggy but spicy and salty enough to be passable.
For the same reason I was going to order the milanesa (schnitzel) for my main course but when I saw this going out to another table I quickly changed my order:
I had written it off because the name, Cazuela de Cabra, had not really indicated to me what the dish might actually consist of - I knew that a cazuela was a bowl or dish and that cabra was goat and since I did not consider goat to be a ‘safe’ option I wrote it off without asking any questions. Silly me! The goat was remarkably tender and gave the otherwise simple broth a rich and hearty flavour. The vegetables were somewhat overcooked, but they were plentiful. It was a humble stew but it exceeded my expectations and for that I enjoyed it even more.
The dessert was ice cream or fruit salad, but I didn’t bother with either because we had been told that there was a shop in the centre of the village that makes wine ice cream. Yes, wine ice cream.
The red was malbec and the white was torrontes, both grapes grown locally. And, yes, it was alcoholic. Too alcoholic. So much so that I actually found it quite unpleasant. I mean I liked the idea in theory – the torrontes in particular lends itself to a bit of sweetness – but I was expecting an essence of wine, not actual wine. Imagine you got a tub of plain ice cream and mixed it up with a lot of wine and froze it. This is what you’d get. Yuk.
To the north of Salta on the road up to La Quiaca, the border town where I crossed to Bolivia, is another Quebrada – the Quebrada de Humahuaca. I was not as impressed by it as with the Quebrada de Cafayate, which has more wow factor with bigger rock formations and bolder colours, but retrospectively I can appreciate that it has a more understated beauty … and that I may have just been bored of rocks; I had seen a lot of them.
The colours are certainly more varied in the Quebrada de Humahuaca; where the other is all reds, browns and oranges, there are also lots of purples, blues and greens in the Quebrada de Humahuaca.
Again on a tour bus the restaurant choice for lunch on this day was nothing special, but I did enjoy the novelty of eating a milanesa de llama (llama schnitzel), a fitting mix of the Andean and European influences in Argentinian cuisine. It was served just how I like it, with a wedge of lemon and salad on the side, but if I am honest it didn’t taste remarkably different to a beef one.
As you progress to the border you start to notice the Quechuan influences more and more. On my last night in Argentina I dined at a small provincial restaurant in the little town of Humahuaca, where I had a tamale to start – cornmeal dough filled with spiced meat. Tamales can be gluggy, doughy and flavourless when made badly, but this was perfect; a light dough filled with tender stewed llama meat and spices.
The main course, spicy chicken with rice, chuño (Andean freeze-dried potatoes) and vegetables was nothing special, but the chicken was tender and had been cooked in a good stock. I didn’t fully appreciate it at the time because I didn’t know that such a simple dish could be poorly executed, but that was before Bolivia where execute it they did!
Torta mousse de coca (coca mousse cake) was a novelty no doubt aimed at tourists but I was tempted all the same. Coca leaves taste similar to green tea when chewed and I was hoping that this would be captured in the mousse but I was disappointed. Still the mousse was light and fluffy and taken simply as a mousse cake it was nice enough.
On my last morning in Argentina I had to get an early bus up to the border. I hadn’t factored on there being nowhere open to buy something to eat. Not even a corner store where I could buy some bread. At the bus stop I had already given up hope of finding breakfast when I spotted this lady:
I noticed a few people hanging around, money exchanged in return for a small package. It was all done so covertly that I wondered whether it might be something illegal. But then one of her clients came and stood next to me and I saw that she was eating an empanada! Not just breakfast but my favourite Argentine snack! Whoppee!
They were homemade and still hot from the oven and, although they were not the best I’d had, they tasted all the better for the fact that I’d thought I was going to go hungry.
What a delightful and appropriate last meal in Argentina.
