On the Road to Find Out

I’ve got to the point now where I am knocking back at least 8 radishes a day. It’s officially become an addiction. I’m not sure if this is because they are that much better than the ones in England, it’s just that I’ve found the perfect way of devouring these little beauties.

I should really warn people though, eating radishes like this can be a little dangerous. Yesterday I ate six in a row and had to have a sleep to get over it. It is a taste explosion which actually physically changes you as a person. It’s basically the same as when you drink tequila. You cut your radish open, spray on some salt and then you can either down the radish and squeeze some lemon juice into your face or alternatively apply lemon juice to radish before it even realizes that it’s is on its way to your face. I made a video to show this in action purely because I’m quite enjoying having a camcorder and don’t really know when to stop.

Arriving back in Argentina I didn’t realise how much I had missed two things, but once I saw their names emblazoned across shop windows as I pulled into Puerto Iguazu I knew I was going to have to resolve these cravings before I could carry on.

The first was milanesa, a piece of beef pounded until it resembles a deflated whoopee cushion, then covered in breadcrumbs with a sprinkling of parsley, and generally served in a bun with salad and mayonnaise. They are ubiquitous in Argentina and Uruguay, which is perhaps why I love them so much, the amount of times they have solved my hunger problems so succinctly. Plus, they taste great cold and can be stored in a bus for well over a day without losing any of their joy.

The other item us something I’ve mentioned here before I believe; the alfajor. Never has a sweet snack captivated my attention. I’ve been waiting for something like this ever since plain chocolate rich tea biscuits started getting so hard to find in the shops. They have them in Brazil but in a pre-packaged triple chocolate variety that revels only in its sickliness. To enjoy an alfajor, a corn flour biscuit with dulce de leche in the middle and coconut on the surrounds, is to eat it properly. After one day I have already eaten four. I imagine this will continue for some time.

This is Don Eloy. He knows how to turn pigs into Salami, Chorizo, Bondiola and a little something he calls Head Cheese, which sounds just about like the worst type of cheese imaginable. This is Don Eloy:

When I grow up, I want to be him.

I think I’ve had a glimpse into my future. It involves basing myself next to a dairy, with a constant supply of cheese pumping through the window. If anyone knows how this can happen please let me know.

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The time has come to roll up my sleeves, grab a hoe and get to work, which is exactly what I have been doing. After 3 weeks in Uruguay, I headed to Buenos Aires for the weekend before hitting the farm; Granja Las Ondinas to be exact. This past week has brought with it the best and worst of meat eating.

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I have finally been seduced by mate.

The conversion has taken a little while but I always knew it was coming. The communal drinking ritual and price a fraction of coffee or tea always made this inevitable.

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There’s something I’ve been holding back. Something I’ve been meaning to write for a while, but things have kept getting in my path. Not for much longer.

When I was in Rio I made one huge discovery which almost blew the top of my head off. It’s all to do with this fella:

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