Frutilla con crema - Make “to die for” Dessert in Seconds

Argentines love fruit. They loved canned fruit even more. I have never seen as much canned peaches consumption since I left Scotland. Maybe it’s a poor people thing? I can’t be sure. But peaches and cream or strawberries and cream (frutilla con crema in Argentina) is one of the most simple, popular desserts around sold at street fairs and celebrations. It’s not easy to imagine why. It’s easy to prepare and damn delicious so both seller and consumer leave happy.

On one of my last evenings in Buenos Aires I had the good fortune of being invited to a giant asado at a friend’s house complete with stray children, bloody meat, unattended house pets, lots of laughter and giant servings of frutilla con crema for dessert. This, however was the best banana, strawberries, peaches or whatever fruit and cream I have ever tasted. And even easier to make than my can’t-fail recipe for panqueques! Seriously, people, easy.

Just buy enough tubs of heavy whipping cream for however many people you are serving (Maybe 1 small tub for 2-3 people). Add sugar to your liking. We had cream for about 15 people and about 7 teaspoons of sugar. Whip this mixture until it’s thick, thick, thick. Thick means you can hold the bowl upside down and the cream stays. Now, while the meat is sizzling on the grill and the kids are chasing each other around the table, just put the whole bowl in the freezer to cool. What come out is not exactly ice cream and not exactly whipped cream but a thick, cold, sugary mixture in between. It’s light for dessert in small portions but wonderfully sweet and a perfect accompaniment to absolutely any fresh (or canned for the super pobres) fruit you can think of. It’s ready in seconds and you can’t argue with that.

Thanks Luis for the asado invitation and thanks Susana and family for treating me to my best frutilla con crema experience. Dessert in seconds for unexpected visitors is always, always handy.

Fear not mate!
By Clare Nisbet

I have to ease back in to writing something, ANYTHING, about food. Spending these months schlepping around South America eating some of the greatest food known to man is so inspiring. I can’t wait to get home and try out some of these recipies and now that Ace Cummins and Network TV Slut are back in business, I feel ultra motivated.

I suppose the best way to ease back into it is with the ultimate South American staple: yerba mate. A little background: It’s a member of the holly family and it is best cultivated in the northeast of Argentina as well as Paraguay and the south of Brasil where the climate is ideal for growing. First used by the Guarani Indians for cleansing, healing, stimulation, remedies, hunger combat, and much more. The claimed benefits include: it’s frickin’ chock full of healthy minerals, vitamins, and antioxidants, provides physical recovery from a variety of ailments, improves indurance and breathing, is a mild stimulant, appetite suppressant, heightens concentration, relieves stress, improves sexual stamina.

Well, shit. We should all be mateando right now.

Over the course of my travels in South America, I have found three principle methods for drinking mate. Here they are so that you can give them a try.

1. Traditional mate. The Argentines claim this one though, per capita, Uruguayans drink it the most. This usually consists of lose mate leaves sipped from a gourd or mate (also the name used for the wooden vessel to drink mate from) with a metal bombilla or straw. EVERYONE will give you their own special version of how to prepare the perfect mate but you usually fill the gourd about 80% with the yerba, add the bombilla , make a little hole, fill the hole with water (JUST below boiling), drink, spit, fill, drink. Repeat a thousand times until you get a mate high. Gringos often find the taste very bitter and even Argentines drink flavored (orange or mint) yerba mate or dose their gourds with sugar. Don’t be put off by the first taste… it really does grow on you. A friend of mine also wrote a wonderful article on the Argentine drinking of mate which you can read here.

2. Tereré. My personal favorite. A favorite in Paraguay where they serve it in restaurants, in bus stations, and on street corners and where they have more sense than to drink hot mate in 100 degree weather. Yay, Paraguay! Take the same steps as above to prepare the mate but drink it with VERY cold water. In lieu of the traditional thermos that is used for hot water, you can use a pitcher of ice water and add lemon, sugar, limes, etc. Delicious and refreshing. When I open my empanada restaurant, I am going to serve tereré there.

3. Mate Cocido. This is generally what people in the US understand as Yerba Mate which is prepared mate usually served in individual tea bags. It is prepared just like a tea and, you know, you can buy it at Lazy Acres. Good times. No muss, no fuss. Also, iced mate cocido is good with a little sugar as a summery beverage.

After schlepping through Corrientes, Argentina where I never actually saw anyone do anything other than drink mate, and Paraguay where they drink it cold, we find ourselves in Bolivia where mate is increasingly harder to come by. I must say, I am missing it a little.

I once met a girl in San Martín de los Andes and I asked her if her teeth didn’t get green from drinking SO much mate. She replied, “Pues, sí, mis dientes son verdes… pero mi corazón es azul y amarillo.” I suppose there are still some obsessions that are greater.

Happy sipping!

Maquíllate la mente (Toma de decisiones)

Caminando por la Collins, en Miami, escuché por primera vez la frase maquíllate la mente. Creo que tardé una cuadra en entender y dos más en dejar de reírme. La mezcla de razas e idiomas produce cosas como estas. En inglés la expresión make up your mind debería traducirse por algo como decídete (¿por que será que cuando uno traduce no vosea?), pero dado que make up es maquillaje y your mind es tu mente, la traducción palabra por palabra arroja el título de este ensayo (nombre presuntuoso). Maquillar la mente es complicado.

En un rincón está el método de la película Brazil. Un empleado administrativo, como cualquier oficinista, que tenía en su escritorio un aparato que lo ayudaba en la toma de decisiones. El aparato era una plomada atada a un hilo que caía exactamente sobre el borde de una pirámide de dos caras. Una cara decía si y la otra no.

Este personaje decidía todo gracias al simpático aparatito.  Y si bien este método parece ridículo, basta con explorar técnicas de los noventa para ayudar a la toma de decisiones en las que es evidente, bueno no tanto, que se puede justificar algo o su negación. El ejercicio propuesto consistía en jugar roles o “ponerse el sombrero” de la actitud de vida a tomar. Así el sombrero rosa era el optimista, el negro el pesimista y aunque había más, estos dos me interesan especialmente. Cada vez que participé en uno de estos ejercicios, me sorprendí al ver qué fácil es argumentar por algo o por lo contrario. 

Buscando más de esto mismo en otras ciencias, alguna vez me detuve en el proceso de administración de justicia en la sociedad y otra vez lo mismo. Un fiscal que trata por todos los medios de probar la culpabilidad del acusado, un defensor del otro lado que juega por la inocencia, y en el medio el juez o el jurado, buscando la verdad.  

A veces en algunas justicias, las cosas son un poco diferentes. En el capítulo tres de Liga de la Justicia, tercera temporada, están juzgando, en un planeta lejano, a Linterna Verde. Cuando Flash quiere defenderlo, oficiando de abogado, el juez le dice: “Resolvimos el problema de los abogados en nuestro planeta. Ya no hay más abogados desde que éstos sufren la misma pena que el acusado”. Esto no fundamenta mi idea de que puede justificarse cualquier cosa, pero como es un dibujo animado, podemos descartarlo. Pero por sobre todo, la idea es tan buena.  

Entonces, de un lado, la decisión tirando una moneda. Del otro, el análisis. En su versión más ridiculizada, querer hacer todas las pruebas necesarias para tener garantías y demorar la decisión hasta que sea tarde.  

Problema: A qué precio vendemos esto? Podemos entonces hacer un estudio de mercado, una encuesta con clientes, un focus group para ver cuánto están dispuestos a pagar. Pero para cuando terminamos todo esto, la competencia se hizo fuerte y quedamos afuera. Tal vez se podía tirar una moneda, poner un precio y estar listos para cambiarlo. 

Y cuál es la receta magistral? Suena más o menos así: acá hay que ver las ventajas y desventajas y tomar una decisión. Y eso parece estar bien. Pero… haga esta prueba. Supongamos que diez personas fueron a una presentación de un producto. Sepárelos en dos grupos de cinco y pídales que le hagan un cuadrito con Fortalezas, Oportunidades, Debilidades y Amenazas (también conocido como FODA). Va a ver que lo que para uno es una fortaleza, para el otro grupo es una debilidad. Va a ver. 

Pero entonces, las ventajas no son algo que está flotando en el éter y sólo hay que atraparlo? No pequeño Saltamontes. Mejor, tirá una moneda.  

Tal vez todo este ensayo es el resultado de tirar una plomada sobre una pirámide de dos caras que de un lado dice análisis y del otro dice azar. Y salió azar.

Fan of Lenny Bruce, Richard Pryor, Eddie Murphy and Bill Hicks overcomes early nervousness and only forgets two lines of 11-minute routine.

One Sorry Blog News Service

Buenos Aires – Californian and One Sorry Blog editor Paul Rivas made his stand-up comedy debut Friday at El Bululú comedy theater in Buenos Aires. Playing before an almost-full room of 60 people as a substitute in the Ponele onda! show, Rivas opened the hour-long program.

The Californian, who has been living in Buenos Aires with his girlfriend and muse, Clare Nisbet, since early 2006, had grown increasingly nervous in the few hours immediately preceding his debut.

“Only once I started waiting backstage for the show to start did I realize that it was possible that I might forget everything,” Rivas recalled. “But once I was on stage and people started laughing, things got much easier and the 11 minutes flew by.”

Nisbet was not surprised to see Rivas struggle in the early moments, given that he had apparently given no thought to what performing for a crowd with stage lights in his face might be like.

“All he thought he had to do was write some funny shit and memorize it,” said Nisbet, shaking her head. “Most people would have shit themselves worrying about the crowd, but all he was worried about was whether or not the stuff would be funny.”

Whereas Nisbet was quick to say that she was proud of Rivas, the stand-in comedian himself said that except for the early nervousness, which he hadn’t anticipated, the debut went as expected. He was disappointed to have forgotten two lines of his “Ana con doble N” bit and that the crowd did not take to his “¡toma!” line in reference to a statue of Jesus being whipped at the Holy Land theme park in Buenos Aires.

Rivas has no further performances scheduled and is hesitant to consider doing stand-up in English, stating: “I’m not funny in English.”

One Sorry Blog News Service

Buenos Aires – One Sorry Blog editor Paul Rivas will make his stand-up comedy debut Friday, August 3 at El Bululú in Buenos Aires. Rivas will be a one-time substitute in the Ponele onda! stand-up comedy show, which runs Fridays at 10 p.m. at the comedy theater at Rivadavia 1350.

The show will feature three comedians and Rivas, in addition to an MC. As the newcomer, Rivas will be performing first. The U.S. citizen was invited to join the Spanish language stand-up show by its closer, Gabriel “Gabo” Grosvald. Needless to say, Rivas expects to kill.

“Of course I think I’m funny,” said Rivas. “What are stand-up comedians if not a bunch of jerkoffs who think they’re funny?”

Without giving too much away, Rivas indicated that his ten-minute set is based on his unique perspective as a Californian of 50% Mexican descent who lived in Mexico City for six months in 2000 and now plans to return to California after living 20 months in Buenos Aires.

“Think Bill Hicks meets Chespirito,” Rivas said.

***

Buenos Aires – Paul Rivas, el editor de One Sorry Blog, debutará como comediante stand-up este viernes, 3 de agosto, en El Bululú en Buenos Aires. En esta única occasion, Rivas será un suplente en el show de stand-up Ponele onda!, que se presenta los viernes a las 22 hs. en el teatro de comedia ubicado en Rivadavia 1350.

El show incluye a tres comediantes y a Rivas, más el MC. Como el novato, Rivas abrirá el espectáculo. El estadounidense fue invitado a unirse al show de stand-up en castellano por el que lo cierra, Gabriel “Gabo” Grosvald. Claro está que Rivas cree que le va a ir bárbaro.

“Claro que me creo gracioso,” dijo Rivas. “¿Qué son los comediantes stand-up si no una bola de pelotudos que se creen graciosos?”

Sin revelar demasiado, Rivas indicó que su monólogo de diez minutos se basa en su perspectiva única como un californiano de 50% descendencia mexicana quien vivió en la Ciudad de México por seis meses en el 2000 y ahora planea volver a los Estados Unidos después de haber vivido 20 meses en Buenos Aires.

“Una mezcla de Bill Hicks y Chespirito,” dijo Rivas.

First snow in 89 years renders city man’s trip to Patagonia with in-laws two weeks ago ‘a big fat waste of time’.

One Sorry Blog News Service

Buenos Aires – Snow fell yesterday in the Argentine capital for the first time since 1918. Millions of porteños who would ordinarily be staying indoors and drinking mate beside gas heaters to stay warm were prompted, however illogically, to take long walks and marvel at the falling white stuff in the freezing cold.

“It was obvious that the silly bastards didn’t know what to make of it. The streets were full of people walking around with idiotic smiles on their faces, as if they’d never seen snow before. One woman was even carrying an umbrella,” commented Paul Rivas, a Southern California native who has been living in Buenos Aires since January 2006.

“I guess it’s understandable, though,” Rivas continued, “most of these people have actually never seen snow before. As a matter of fact, when we moved here last year, I asked our old doorman if it ever snowed here, and he said it hadn’t in like 88 years. I guess he was right.”

Rivas’s wife-to-be, Clare Nisbet, grew up in Arctic Scotland, and knows all about snow. However, Rivas had never seen snow fall until Nisbet’s parents took the young couple on a vacation to Bariloche, in Argentine Patagonia, just two weeks ago, during which Rivas could be found frolicking in the fresh powder for hours with an idiotic smile on his face.

“Tell me about it!” Rivas exclaimed. “Clearly, that trip to the Andes Mountains was just a big fat waste of time. If I’dve known it was going to snow in Buenos Aires, I’dve holed up right here and waited for it, instead of weathering eight days of traveling with the in-laws.”

When reminded that after the aforementioned vacation, Rivas had determined that he likes Nisbet’s parents better than he likes her, the woman he is to marry, he just shrugged and said, “Yeah, well what does that tell you? Nothing, that’s what. That and two pesos will buy you a Coca Light.”

For her part, Nisbet assured this news service that she took, “plenty of pictures yesterday of Paul dancing around with his tongue out trying to catch snow flakes, looking awfully silly.”

Over the last 12 trips from the United States to the Buenos Aires Desk of One Sorry Blog, 20.8% of travelers have had their luggage lost for 1-4 days.

One Sorry Blog News Service

Buenos Aires - “You’ve heard of slugging percentage?” Paul Rivas asked Clare Nisbet as the latter returned from Ezeiza International in Buenos Aires with Jenny Fickert, the latest houseguest, sans luggage. “No? Well on flights from the U.S. to here, baggage handlers lug 79.2 of passengers’ luggage successfully. They’re lugging .792.”

Sound good? The problem is, as Rivas would later enlighten Nisbet, lugging is a fielding statistic, not a batting statistic. There is a 20.8% chance that baggage “throwers”, as Nisbet refers to them, will not successfully field your luggage in the U.S. and dispatch it to the correct plane for Buenos Aires.

“When he said, ‘OK, Spilborgis* is batting .290, and this would be like batting .090,’ then I understood perfectly,” Nisbet recounted. “Because I know that Spilly is good and that people who come visit me are always losing their luggage.”

Paul lost his bag that had all the good stuff in it for four days in January, and Little Julie Nisbet was without her belongings for three days last August. Fickert would go without luggage for one day.

“Are you kidding?” asked Nisbet, not really wondering if anyone was kidding. “We’re definitely getting better at dealing with it. We were able to get Jenny’s bags back in a day, all because we know what happens now when luggage is lost.”

The vote of confidence in recovering Fickert’s bags reflects a new optimism in Buenos Aires travel matters around the One Sorry Blog desk in the same city. No one had lost a passport until last week, and in that case it was miraculously returned to him only nine hours after he really needed it.

Taylor discovered he’d lost his passport at 5 a.m. Tuesday, a morning on which he was to travel to Bariloche. He and his girlfriend Heather missed the plane, went to the Embassy, got another passport, and learned his original passport had just been delivered to the Buenos Aires desk of One sorry Blog shortly before they were to board their rescheduled flight.

Upon finally reaching his seat, Taylor sunk into a much-deserved full-body slouch, the tension gone. “I wasn’t worried, I mean I got another passport in a couple hours, but sometimes having tight game ain’t easy, that’s all.”

While throwers will be throwers, a .792 lugging percentage seems to indicate that the blame for lost luggage cannot solely be assigned to the luggers themselves, and more than a bit must lie with the airlines scheduling international connecting flights 40 minutes from each other. The only two ways to know one’s luggage won’t be misfielded are to take a direct flight or take only carry-on luggage. The second option is not as crazy as it sounds, given that there exists a sporting chance that one will not be greeted by one’s luggage after the US-OSBBAD journey.

“You should carry a change of clothes anyway…” Rivas started, only to add, “Nevermind. I was gonna say take a big carry-on and don’t check any luggage, but I’d sound like my mom, and a 28-year-old man doesn’t want to sound like his mom too much. .792? Take your chances.”

*Santa Barbara baseball hero Ryan Spilborghs, to whom the Santa Barbara broadcaster habitually referred as Spilborgis.

Around this time last year in Buenos Aires, a Chinese mafia flare-up was leaving Chinese folks dead all over the city. The mafia was getting back at shop owners who wouldn’t pay their taxes, which could be up to a few thousand dollars per month per chino (small Chinese-run grocery store). Some members of the chino community banded together to stop the violence, and their efforts culminated in a stampede at Ezeiza International Airport in Buenos Aires in pursuit of four or five of the mafia goons.

It was a Wednesday, one of the two days of the week that flights arrive from China, and as the vigilante store owners raced into the airport, hot on the tails of the hitmen, who were apparently running for a flight out of the country, the customs doors opened and a plane’s worth of Chinese innocents was disgorged into Ezeiza. With the shopkeepers tackling the mafia, and a load of their countrymen, essentially fresh off the boat, tripping over the bodies wrestling on the floor, and dozens of Chinese people generally running amok, the Argentine airport officials were lost.

In the tone of Dennis Leary’s order to “Start arresting people” when the Met is swarming with businessmen in bowler hats in the Thomas Crown Affair, the Argentine cops started grabbing every Chinese who wasn’t carrying luggage, trying to sort them out. A quote in the Página/12 newspaper the next day said something like: “It was bedlam. They all look the same – we didn’t know what to do.” In the end, with the help of 30 shopkeepers pointing fingers at four or five guys in suits, the Argentines apprehended the thugs.

These days, there’s a commercial on television in which an Argentine guy and a Chinese guy are stuck in an elevator in Shanghai. As the Chinese security guards monitoring the elevator cameras slurp noodles, one asks if the Argentine isn’t Julio Bocca, the famous dancer, and the other says who knows, “All westerners look the same.”

Nevertheless, I was surprised the other night when, just before turning the corner onto our block, I said hello to our friendly neighborhood Bolivian fruit and veg vendors, as I always do, (Bolivians sell Buenos Aires its fruits and vegetables. Even in the chinos, there’s a Bolivian or two at the front of the store selling fruits and veg.) and rather than say hello back and wave me on my way, the mother and one of the high school-aged sons called me into the small store, as if to settle a bet.

“This is the guy,” the kid said with some authority, while the mother asked me, “Is this your girlfriend?”

There in the store was Sarah, our current houseguest, looking like a hostage held at bananapoint. Clare (Scottish) and Sarah (a Starr-King alumnus) are both white enough, I suppose, but Sarah is a tan girl the Bolivians had never seen before whereas Clare is pale or sometimes red and has been in the store every week or two for almost three months.

“No,” I said, “this is our friend. But it’s alright, they all look the same.”

Where would you rather be a customer: at a blacksmith shop called “Wooden Knife”, or at a moving company that has been doing business for 112 years under the name “Dick Bros.”?

¿De cuál preferiría ser cliente: de una herrería que se llama Cuchillo de palo, o de una compañía de mudanzas que lleva 112 años operando bajo el nombre Verga?