I hit the jackpot in my salteño socio-culinary research this weekend. For weeks, people have been recommending that I try slightly more adventurous regional dishes. I think I’ve finally communicated that I have, indeed, tried empanadas. A few times, in fact! I don’t want to give too much away to early, but I’ll just say that Krista and I haven’t been sure where to find some of these dishes because they’re not your typical restaurant fare. We’re talking campo food. Because our moms are far away, Krista and I were invited to spend Día de la Madre with the family of a student (and friend), María Inés. We hopped on a bus on Saturday evening headed to El Galpón. Electricity and hot running water came to El Galpón less than ten years ago. It’s a town where families leave their doors open (nevermind unlocked), and where people buy their milk fresh from the cow and boil it well before putting it on the table. The pasteurized stuff in plastic is far more expensive. It’s lovely and culturally rich, with pre-Columbian rock paintings and Jesuit ruins nearby, as well as a neverending supply of spooky legends and ghost stories. Sometimes temperatures reach 45 degrees (celsius) or more in the summer. It was refreshing to arrive in the countryside just in time for dinner.

María Inés and her mom and dad greeted us exuberantly, and after we put our things in the bedroom, we sat down to eat. It was a typical Argentine dinner scene: bowls of shredded lettuce and carrots, sliced tomatoes and potatoes and hard-boiled egg, a loaf of french bread, and a large platter of carved meat. Also, a pitcher of white wine with ice cubes (not as typical but nice and cool). We served ourselves and made small talk, which was hugely entertaining because María Inés’ dad’s accent is tremendous. There was lots of belly laughing. I had two bites of the meat and realized I had no idea what it was. It wasn’t bad, and I was pretty sure it came from a cow, but it had a texture like I’d never experienced: really soft, with irregular and sometimes large pockets of fat. Here’s a rough translation of the conversation that followed:

Me: Mmm. This is delicious! What kind of meat did you say it is?

Mom: Smiling. Do you like it?

Me: Yes! Mmm. What kind of meat is it?

Mom: Smiling and hesitating. Oh, I’ll tell you after dinner. I’ll show you after dinner. After you eat it.

Krista and I exchanged looks and I got the sense everyone else was in on the secret, but we dutifully kept eating. The moment we finished, María Inés’ mom jumped up from the table. It was time to go out to the back yard to find out whence the meat had been carved.

There we are and there it is. Maybe you need a close up:

Yes, that is the nose on top. And those are teeth. Here’s another view, with Dad and the tongue roasted to a nice golden brown (we didn’t eat it, as Mom was saving it for special empanadas):

This marvel of a dish is called cabeza aguateada, and it can be made with the head of a cow or a pig. The entire head (eyeballs and brain still in place) is wrapped in moistened brown paper, and then either buried with hot coals in a hole in the ground (luau-style) or placed in a mud oven to cook for hours. Ours was oven-roasted. Mom explained to us that the tongue makes delicious empanadas, that the cheek meat is what is usually used in tamales salteñas, and that the cooked brains have their own scrumptious culinary use.

After dinner we strolled to the town plaza and did a few tontodromos with ice cream in hand (anyone out there have a guess at what that means?) and then took a drive in María Inés’ friend’s tin can of a car around the surrounding areas until about 3 in the morning. One highlight was the settlement the Argentine government has built for the local Matacos, a hunter-gatherer indigenous tribe–this was basically public housing in the form of strange rounded tin huts and a community soup kitchen.

On Sunday, Mother’s Day, we woke up late and took a walk around town, visiting a teacher-guru-anthropologist-adventure man with whom Krista and María Inés did some intense bushwhacking in August (it’s worth reading about on Krista’s blog). Then it was back to the house for Mother’s Day lunch (lechón, salad, and bread baked in the mud oven) with María Inés, her brother and his wife and 3-year-old son, and the parents. It was nice to celebrate Argentine Mother’s Day with an Argentine mom. After the festivities, we were picked up by friends to visit a local dam

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dip our feet in a hot springs

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and drink several Salta Negras. That night we listened to gauchos of all ages sing coplas in the plaza and swatted the mosquitoes away.*

*I learned on Monday that I’m both highly delicious and highly allergic to the El Galpón mosquitoes. Let’s just say that I had a steroid shot to combat some massive swelling of the ankles, and I’m now on a course of topical and oral antibiotics, as well as prescription antihistamines. If you’re in the mood for something gory, email me–I have pictures.