Summer in the City

Summer's here.

Spring sort of went in and out of my consciousness this year. There were days in Buenos Aires -- warm days, a string of perfect days. I walked around with bare shoulders and sunglasses, while the portenos layered on light sweaters and shopped for leather boots. Fall was beginning there. But it was my spring.

There were also trips to the Northeast -- days spent wrapped up in a trenchcoat, wishing I had worn a wool sweater. There was rain, and inadequate footwear, and cold, wet feet.

My spring was a confusing back-and-forth, to-and-fro, are-you-or-aren't-you.

Summer, on the other hand, is unambiguous. With summer comes a totally different way of living, thinking, breathing.

In June, there will be new adventures, surrounded by some of the things and people I love best. There will be a weekend trip to New York, a 10K in which to set a new personal best (fingers crossed), and seventy-two hours in which to do "everything with that great mad joy you get when you return to New York" (Kerouac). I have big plans for those seventy-two hours. And then there might even be another 10K race a few weeks later, and there will certainly be lots of food -- cooking, baking, tasting, and shopping.

In July, there will be all-American celebrations for the Fourth, birthdays, and cocktails once the heat of the day has gone. There'll be an evening spent at a chef's table... I'll be the one with camera. There might be a film festival and there'll be escapes for a few hours or a few days to places where life is slower. 

In August... well I haven't gotten that far yet. But as the heat sets in, I'll install my window unit and look for ways to step away from the stove. Sushi takeout, here I come. And I'll be choosing races and planning trips for the fall. Where to go next? Where to run next? I'll be packing my calender full of runs and sprints in anticipation of longer distances and races. And maybe I'll be packing my suitcase too.

It's going to be a great summer. Stay tuned.

Bringing Flavors Home

After our trip to Argentina, there’s been talk of making homemade dulce de leche. One recipe calls for continuous stirring for three hours. I volunteered my arm muscles.

But there is no way I will be making empanadas. Sure, they’re tasty and cute. I have absolutely nothing against empanadas, especially when they’re right out of the oven.

But, when we got a behind-the-scenes look at Essenza Pasteleria in Mendoza, I realized that there is so much skill involved. The filling is tucked into dough and the sides are pinched to create the half moon shape -- and it all happens in about five seconds.

 

I don't have that kind of dexterity. But I’m really good with a blender. And a cocktail shaker. So, what I’ve recreated at home so far are drinks: a pineapple licuado (smoothie) inspired by the licuados at the Park Hyatt Mendoza pool and a Metropolitan cocktail, which I enjoyed (twice) at Cluny in Buenos Aires.

First, the licuado.  We’d already been out for an early morning of sightseeing and we were happy to stretch out by the pool for a few hours. It was sunny and hot – another perfect Mendocino day -- and licuados seemed just right.

I’ve put my own twist on the drink, adding mint and substituting coconut water for milk. It’s light and very drinkable.

Pineapple-Mint Licuado:

2 cups chopped pineapple

1 to 2 teaspoons chopped fresh mint (amount depends on your taste)

½ cup coconut water

½ cup ice cubes

Blend all ingredients. Serves two, best accompanied by tango lounge music.

And now for the cocktail...

Cluny is a celebratory kind of place. By far, one of our favorite restaurants in Buenos Aires.

And the Metropolitan is a celebratory kind of drink. It’s pink (already a winner in my book), well-balanced, and makes you wonder why anyone would ever order a Cosmo. 

But be careful -- there are a lot of recipes on the web, with some seriously strange proportions (2 ounces of Cointreau? That’s just crazy). And there’s also a cocktail by the same name that is brandy-based.

I’m sticking to Cluny’s version. Here is my best effort to recreate the drink.

The Metropolitan:

2 ounces Absolut Kurant vodka

1 ounce cranberry cocktail juice

1 ounce Cointreau

¼ ounce fresh lime juice

1 teaspoon simple syrup

Shake all ingredients well in a cocktail shaker with ice; strain into a martini glass. Makes one drink, but don’t be surprised if you’re asked to make more….

Butter, Sugar, and Happiness in Argentina

"Life is so brief that we should not glance either too far backwards or forwards... therefore study how to fix our happiness in our glass and in our plate." - Grimod de la Reyniere

Una medialuna at La Biela, Buenos Aires
Our first morning in BA, I ordered a medialuna -- sweeter than a croissant but just as buttery.

Pan de leche relleno con dulche de leche at the Alvear Palace Hotel, Buenos Aires.
Beautiful trays of pastries and confectionery await you at breakfast. Resisting is futile.

Tiny alfajores flavored with honey from Nuss, Clos de Chacras & Mendoza
We bought a dozen. I sneaked one at at time out of the paper bag....

A spoonful of dulce de leche, La Salamandra, Buenos Aires
Some of the best we tasted. Enjoy it at the cafe or buy a jar to take home....or both. 

I Went to Buenos Aires and Came Back with a Buddha

It's funny what we do when we return from a trip.

Door to door, the trip home was nineteen hours. And it involved a gruesome overnight flight. I should have gone to bed and stayed there.

But, a few hours later, I was at yoga class. 75 minutes of flow yoga sounded just right.

The next day, I painted my nails Sugar Daddy pink and found a place on my desk for Buddha.

Yes, Buddha. I went to Buenos Aires and came back with a small, gold-plated laughing Buddha. He's chubby and has skinny eyebrows. Perfect.

You see, Buddha is hot in Palermo. I mean, Buddha is always popular.

But, right now, Buddha is everywhere.

He's on the bar at Green Bamboo...

In shop windows...

And on a small stand by the Jardin Botanico. This Buddha came home with me.

And after 19 hours, he's well-traveled too. 

What the Portenos Do

They love.

They cook.

They explore.

They entertain.

And they always make time for coffee.

Like Soho but Better

Back in Buenos Aires, we head for Palermo Soho.

Every café has high ceilings inside and sidewalk seating. The trees are leafy, many of the streets are cobblestone, and the boutique shops are filled with leather purses and knit sweaters. Summer is fading and autumn is beginning, but you wouldn’t know it. The weather is gorgeous and the small streets are bustling with shoppers and strollers.

Every city’s Soho has sushi bars and boutiques. But this Soho is housed in a mix of modern buildings and beautiful, aging houses brought into the 21st century with bright colors and graffiti.

We catch glimpses of rooftop terraces and inner courtyards. We pass under a portico – hung with ivy and heavy wrought iron lanterns – to find Tealosophy and Paul. 

What Paul sells is a lifestyle: black and white photographs of Buenos Aires, candles and soaps, bamboo furniture, and distressed kitchen wares  that you’re really meant to look at, not use. I buy two silver mate straws. I don’t even drink mate.

At the guesthouse, I open my windows. I could step over the windowsill and be in the garden. We are the only ones staying here – lucky us – so I go outside (using the door, not the window) and I lay down a towel. I flow through forty-five minutes of yoga. It’s dusk: my silhouette reflects in the glass doors leading to the living room and my shadow is thrown across the courtyard. I stop only to brush away a few mosquitoes and to make dinner plans. Tonight, we’re eating Vietnamese. 

Arguing with the British

For the most part, we spend our time drinking coffee at La Biela, wandering through the barrios, and eating late dinners at parrillas (restaurants serving grilled meat). It's dreamy and warm and life is extremely good in Recoleta.

But the political undercurrents of this place do break into our consciousness. President Kirchner has again made the claim that the Falkland Islands should be returned to Argentina. My first reaction is "Good luck with that" but I guess that every Argentinian president must give it a try, at least to maintain popular support if for no other reason.

One evening, as we hurtle through the streets in a taxi, we see a large group of noisy and emotional demonstrators -- The cab driver believes that the crowd is marching to the British Embassy.

At the U2 concert in La Plata on Sunday evening, Bono takes a break between songs to rhapsodize about the similarities between the Irish and the Argentine. He says, "When we are not arguing with God, we argue with the British." I look around, waiting for the reaction. There's a moment pause as the translators hurry and then flash up the Spanish on the Jumbotron. And then -- the crowd cheers and claps.

The Last Days of March

March 30th

I involuntarily fall asleep after lunch. When I wake up a few hours later, I stumble around -- my hip flexors are stiff and sore from the overnight flight. I pull aside the gauzy white curtain, not knowing what time of day it is. The evening is here and the sky is shot through with symmetrical bands of pink, blue, and gold. The architecture is totally, utterly confusing.

I want a cocktail and a steak. Luckily, here in Buenos Aires, I can get both very easily.

March 31st

At La Biela, a well-known cafe in the Recoleta neighborhood, two metal pitchers of hot coffee and milk are brought to our table. The atmosphere can only be described as drowsy -- it's all cigarette smoke and sunlight breaking through palm fronds, while an accordionist plays on the street corner. In spite of the eighty-degree weather, the waiters wear starched white button-downs, black pants, and green aprons -- aren't they hot? Every time I blow on the cafe con leche to cool it down, my aviators fog up.

At 12:30pm, it's social hour. There's hugging and kissing and countless cafecitos (espressos) are delivered to the regulars.