My hands are clasped around a fired clay bowl, still warm, though I’ve finished the soft humita (corn stew) and tender ternera estofada (braised veal) it contained. The air is heavy with the rich scent of heat, and I can identify each spice—cinnamon, cumin, sweet paprika, pepper, salt, chili flakes, thyme—because I measured them into what we’re eating. I inhale...
For months backpacking around South America, I introduced myself as a solo traveler. I’d meet other solo travelers and we’d talk about how wonderful it was to solo travel—the freedom, the lack of drama, the ability to do our dream trip without compromising, the lower barriers to meeting new friends. We all patted ourselves on the back for being brave,...
Profile and interview with Argentine chef Mica Najmanovich, owner and head chef of ANAFE.
Some of you are passionate about Renaissance art or farmers’ markets or NCAA basketball. Maybe running does it for you, or breadmaking, or collecting keychains. Me? I unabashedly love carrot cake. I can make my own, and it’s pretty good, even though my oven here has only three settings (high, medium, and low) and I failed to bring back a...
Small Plates, Big Flavors at New Núñez EateryOur group walked into LUPA and gathered around a long white table underneath a line of small, cylindric spotlights. We slid into a green velvet booth and leaned forward in sleek metal chairs, opened our wine and clinked our glasses, and watched as the first dishes came out, carried carefully and lit from...
From Backpack to Buenos Aires: New Home, Language, Life It's happened a few times that Diego and I have been in some public space in Buenos Aires—the wine aisle in the grocery store, the Bosques of Palermo, walking down Santa Fe—when, upon hearing someone speaking English, I immediately rubberneck in their direction, my ears straining to catch those whispers of...
Let's operate under the assumption that we're already in sync that when you travel somewhere, it’s good and appropriate and helpful and gratifying to have at least some of the basics of the local language down. To not be the foreigner barreling through a craft market crudely pointing at wares. To not assume that the world will bend to fit...
The six of us arrived at Tayrona National Park groggy and simultaneously over- and under-prepared. Ally’s backpack contained two and a half liters of water and three packages of lunchmeat (necessary), but also a bag of rice he’d forgotten to take out that added a kilo of weight (less than necessary); Sean was carrying a single plastic grocery bag full...
Almost exactly six months ago, I left my winter coat behind on one of the uncomfortable grey boarding-area chairs in Newark International Airport and boarded a plane to Santiago. Since then, I’ve been to six different countries, spending about a month in each, exactly as I planned to do. I knew it’d be good for me and I knew I’d...