A Beauty Queen's Dinner - Argentine Grilled Skirt Steak with Chimichurri, Red Onions and Arugula

Sometimes life can get very complicated and outsized. Power. Beauty. Politics. When all these conditions come together they can be life changing for some. Entire countries have been changed by such forces. I am not talking about Ms. Alaska runner-up and one time vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin. Or even the calculatingly attractive Ms. California, Carrie Prejean. Beautiful women born into tragedy. And certainly politically reaching with differing degrees of power. But their influence is so dimunitive really. True beauty and power comes from strength, elegance and simplicity. Something that can be very big.

I learned of this beauty on a trip to Argentina learning about the primary force that has shaped this amazing South American country. I am not talking about Eva Peron (Evita), the larger than life "Queen of the people" that made something out of herself from nothing, putting an imprint on her people's psyche and becoming an international cultural symbol of Argentina. I am talking about the beauty, strength and elegance of Argentinian cooking - grilled beef with chimichurri sauce. This is food that means something. It's big and intense like the country it comes from. And full of flavor. It moves people.

Evita was the illigitimate daughter of the mistress to a local aristocrat. Born in 1919, she spent the next 20 years living under the spector of this social taboo while taking all her talents to make something of herself. Her success in cinema and acting allowed her to bridge talent and opportunity together. Her life was one of power, accomplishment and tragedy. Although not a beauty queen, she was treated as royalty by the monarchs and institutions of Europe as Argentina's First Lady and one time populist vice-presidential nominee. By the time she died at age 33, she had ascended to be one of the most powerful political leaders in the country and an international icon.

I have been very fortunate to have visited Argentina twice, both times staying in the nation's stunning capital, Buenos Aires. The capital, like the country, is a land of largess. The vast open spaces of the Patagonia. The ascending and spectacular Andes mountain range. And beautiful people - sometimes with outsized personalities (deservedly or not) of Italian and German ancestry. Argentines display a playful South American casualness wrapped around European elegance. Wide boulevards. Beautiful architecture. And then there is the food. Argentina is proud of its culinary heritage and it should be. Buttery and flaky empanadas, a nod to French baking with a twist of Latin American soul. Big and bold wines like the country's famous red Malbec from the vast and beautiful Mendoza wine country. Or my favorite export, the fabulously characteristic white wine Torrontes.

Yet all of this doesn't really characterize what Argentina is. It is a country of beef. Although that sounds odd, it's true. Trust me when I tell you I love a good steak and I have had the opportunity to have some of the best in the world. I've tucked into Kobe beef bred from Wagyu cattle of Japan at $200 for a 10 oz filet in Tokyo. Each steer is fed a special diet, rubbed with sake and pampered with little allowable movement contributing to a soft and velvety experience. All in all not bad. The famous Tuscan T-Bone "bistecca alla fiorentina" of Val-de-Chiana? I ate it in Florence at Il Troia (Sostanza) , a restaurant whose influence only rivals the city's Renaissance Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore. I would definitely go back for dinner here.

But a simple and somewhat unexplainable fact remains. Argentine beef tastes better. Why? Some say the large open rich grass pastures of the Pampas allow the cattle to forage in a free range setting. Others believe the limited use of feedlots and antibiotics makes all the difference. I honestly can't say what is behind the phenomenon. But I can tell you that if I had three steaks in front of me: a kobe filet, a bistecca alla florentina T-Bone and an Argentine New York Strip, you would have to pry the Argentine steak from my cold dead hands. Asia? Sorry. Europe? No thanks. South America's beautiful and tragic Argentina wins hands down.

All that said, the source of the beef matters when you are making your own. It's not terribly easy to get Argentine beef in the United States (but widely available in Holland - go figure). That said, you can create your own version with a good cut of New York Strip, filet mignon or skirt steak. If you go to Argentina you'll be going to an Argentine steak house, called a parilla, and ordering the Bife de Lomo, essentially a filet mignon. I am not a big fan of filets because while they are soft, they usually lack flavor. "Lomos", as they are called, literally rule. They are that good. They are "Evita big" in terms of taste and natural stature and they will change your perspective on what defines a steak. You'll order this with a glass of Malbec and then send me a nice email telling me how thankful you are that you read my little meat missive.

For this recipe, I opted for free range, grass fed skirt steak. Simply seasoned with olive oil, salt and pepper and grilled for about 4 minutes and I am mentally in the fashionable Recoleta district having an oral Tango*. I am a big fan of Chimichurri sauce, a mix of parsley, garlic, chili pepper flakes and olive oil. Argentines put it on everything and it's excellent. There is something about adding chimichurri to warm meat that imparts a scent like no other. I feel like I am back in Buenos Aires, sitting in a 100 year old cafe, with marble countertops and antique wood walls, having a 3 hour lunch. Although not necessarily Argentinian, I served my version over a bed of olive oil and sea salt seasoned arugula and cherry tomatoes. The warmth of the meat lightly cooks the vegetables with a drizzle of chimichurri on top. Big. Bold. Powerful. Simple. And beautiful. Not eating it would be a tragedy of beauty queen proportions.

Recipe for Argentine Grilled Skirt Steak

with Chimichurri, Red Onions and Arugula

Serves 2-3

Ingredients

1 Lb skirt steak or New York strip steak

1 red or bermuda onion, cut into thick rings

olive oil for coating

Kosher or sea salt

Ground pepper

8 oz of fresh arugula

12-16 cherry or grape tomatoes

Chimichurri Sauce

1 C flat leaf Italian parsley, stems removed

3 garlic cloves

2 Tbsp red wine or sherry vinegar

1 tsp salt

1 tsp pepper

1/4 tsp red chili flakes

1/2 C olive oil

Make the Chimichurri Sauce

In a small food processor combine the parsley and garlic cloves. Pulse several times (10-15) to chop it coarsely. Alternatively, you can chop the parsley and garlic by hand. Place in small bowl. Add vinegar, salt, pepper, chili flakes and stir with the olive oil. Set aside.

Grill the Steak and Onions

Heat a grill or grill pan over a medium flame. Rub olive oil on the bermuda onion slices and season both sides with salt and pepper. Grill over a medium to low heat for 5 minutes per side, flipping once, until soft and slightly golden. Remove onions to a platter.

While the onion cooks rub steaks on both sides with olive oil, salt and pepper. Place steaks on a hot oiled barbeque or grill pan and cook no more than 2 minutes per side for skirt steak on a medium high flame for a total of 4 minutes, or 5 minutes per side for a New York Strip on a medium to medium high flame for a total of 10 minutes. Remove steaks from heat source to a platter. Cover with foil and let rest while you finish the remaining steps.

To Serve

On a serving platter, place arugula and drizzle with 2-3 Tbsp of good quality olive oil. Toss to coat and season with salt and pepper. Cut half of the cherry or grape tomatoes in half and scatter around the plate. Scatter remaining whole tomatoes on the plate. Toss with the arugula and then arrange for presentation. Slice the steak into strips crosswise with a diameter of 1/2 inch to 1 inch based on preference. Drizzle with some of the chimichurri sauce. Place grilled onions over the top of the platter and serve with the remaining chimichurri sauce on the side.

* Normally this is eaten with a big red Malbec wine and it totally works. That said, it was close to 1oo degrees the day I made this. I served this with iced white sangria as I have blogged about here, but used an Argentinian Torrontes for the wine. It completely worked, balancing out the tanginess and spice of the chimichurri sauce. I am not a big fan of strictly doing red wine with meat and white wine with chicken or seafood. The white sangria worked well here.

Can't we move on?...Chipotle Chocolate Creme Brulee

It's official. This week I am naming the chipotle as the single most overused foodstuff of the decade. No small feat in knocking creme brulee off of its 1990's "rode hard and put away wet" mantle. There is an obsession in this country with discovering a new ingredient and overusing it. We are in full gear with the decidedly curious chipotle and there is no let up in sight.

Not that long ago too many restaurants offered Creme Brulee on the dessert menu. It was as if those chefs not serving it were lacking somehow. Or felt some misguided need to do whatever "the herd" was doing. I appreciated the effort to opening up our country's eyes to something new and different, but after awhile, it got to be a little much. Not that I didn't love creme brulee, I did (and still do). There are so many qualities that make it appealing to eat. Its smooth texture has decidedly luxurious aspect to it. Sort of an adult vanilla pudding sans Bill Cosby with a pleasant mouth feel (he was Jell-O's spokesman for you younger readers). So, a waiter might say something like "and tonight we are featuring Creme Brulee - two spoons to share?" And we would order it like lemmings over the cliff. It became time to break off this relationship, like the "ex" we would go back to time and again but for no good reason other than convenience.

Well, we did. The mysterious Mr. Chipotle showed up and distracted us from of our unhealthy relationship with Ms. Brulee. It was easy. Love at first sight really. Complex. Mysterious. Spicy. Romantic. It felt like "Gone with the Wind" on a tortilla with a squeeze of lime. Chipotles are everywhere now.

I was first introduced to dried and smoked chiles on a business trip to the charming colonial Mexican city of Guadalajara in 1995. A chance lunch of Pork Adobado in a restaurant on the way to a meeting introduced me to the use of smoked chiles in cuisines from both Mexico and the Philippines. Adobado typically refers to some type of smoked or dried chile (ancho, poblano, etc...) that is preserved in vinegar. It is then cooked with a meat for a slightly spicy, typically rustic dish. For whatever reason, what I ordered came with chipotles, which are traditionally made from dried Jalapeno peppers. The smokiness of this altered pepper is deep and revealing. A real flavor booster that delivers a complex taste and transforms everyday preparations of beef, pork, chicken and even fish.

Having traveled throughout Latin American I have come to love the varied cuisines of these unique regions. And as a resident of San Diego, CA I eat Mexican food regularly. Don't get me wrong, I like chipotles. A few days ago I bought a couple of cans of chipotles at a local market for absolutely no reason. I started to think about how we are now living in such an evolving food culture and how this evolution of chipotles showing up everywhere was unthinkable not that long ago. Back in 1999 you couldn't buy a chipotle except in a Latin American food market. Today googling the term "chipotle" returns 4.5 million results. Creme brulee doesn't get even half of that kind of attention from a search engine.

We definitely have moved on from our sultry ex, Ms. Brulee. However, this love of the Chipotle is pointing toward a relationship attachment problem in our society. Too much of a good thing? While I wish it were the case, I think our problem is worse than that and we might need to bring in Dr. Phil. We can't stand to be alone, can we? It's time to get real.

Chipotle burgers. Chipotle Pancakes. Chipotle Mayonnaise. "The Herd" is definitely back. I hit my limit this week when I visited the Food Network site by chance and the #1 recipe was for the talented chef Bobby Flay's "Grilled Chicken Wings with Spicy Chipotle Sauce". That did it. Creme Brulee. Chipotles. Isn't it enough already...or is it?

And then I did the unthinkable. I got these two old flames together. You know what I mean. When you start to tire of a love interest, you think of a previous one, remembering only the good parts. In this instance, bringing together creme brulee and chipotles may be the only case where this is a good idea. I have asked our dear friend Chocolate to tag along. Try this recipe, and tell me what you think. Enjoy this sultry, smoky, smooth and sexy dessert with an enormous glass of Zinfandel, Malbec, or a Cabernet Franc from the up and coming wine regions of Mexico. It'll be just like old times...with a new twist.

Recipe for Chocolate Chipotle Creme Brulee
Serves 8*

Ingredients

2 Chipotle chiles split in half with excess adobo sauce removed

2 cups whipping cream + 1 cup for topping (see note below)

2 cups half and half

4 ounces bittersweet chocolate (70%, such as Valrona), coarsely chopped

4 ounces semisweet chocolate, finely coarsely chopped

8 large egg yolks

1/3 cup sugar

Method

Preheat oven to 300°F. Combine cream and half and half in heavy large saucepan with the split chipotles and seeds. Bring to a boil mixing occasionally and pressing chipotles to the side of the pan to extra the flavor. Reduce heat to low.

Strain the mixture, pressing the chipotle solids to extra additional flavor. Pour the hot mixture from the saucepan through a strainer over the chipotle, into medium bowl and then back into the saucepan 2-3 times. Strain one final time back into the saucepan and discard solids.

Boil water in a tea kettle while you complete the next step.

Add chocolate and whisk until melted and smooth. Remove from heat. Whisk yolks and 1/3 cup sugar in large bowl to blend. Gradually whisk in hot chocolate mixture to yolks starting with a small amount of hot liquid and whisk quickly. Strain the liquid and egg mixture a final time.

Pour equal amounts of custard among eight 3/4-cup custard cups. Place cups in large baking pan. Add enough hot water to pan to come halfway up sides of cups. Bake until custards are set, about 50 minutes. Remove from water; chill 2 hours. Cover and refrigerate overnight.

(Note: a traditional creme brulee calls for a burnt sugar crust to complete the dessert by adding 1 TBSP of sugar over the top of the brulee and either placing it under your oven broiler for 1 to 2 minutes or using a hand torch to caramelize the sugar. While that makes perfect sense for a traditional brulee, I don't believe it works as well here. Rather, I like a dollop of freshly whipped cream with a small amount of sugar or vanilla to lightly sweeten it. You will want something clean to cut the intense flavor and richness of the chocolate and chile and this does it.

* Recipe can be cut in half for four servings.