It's All Relative: No parilla, no problema

I would like to being this post by firmly stating that I really like vegetables. Eggplants. Tomatoes. Okra. Spinach. The list could continue. In fact, I have even thought about becoming a vegetarian. My sister has been vegetarian for several years, which has had an overall positive effect on my family's eating habits. Sometimes I even feel guilty about eating meat. (Thank you David Pollan) Meat consumption increases global warming via the clearing of land as well as the methane produced by cows. The meat industry in the United States pumps cows full of corn and antibiotics to get the animals to slaughter as soon as possible. Meat packing plants have been known to have pretty horrible working conditions. There are often outbreaks of e.coli and salmonella. And to top all that off, meat really is not that good for you. There are healthier options for you to get your protein.

For all these stated reasons, sometimes I ask myself.."Why am I not a vegetarian?" As much as I love my marinara with a meatball, as much as I appreciate the crunch of a perfectly fried piece of catfish or chicken, I feel confident I could give those things up. However, there is one thing that prevents me from throwing away my serrated steak knives forever. It is something basic, something primal. Grilled meat. Call it what you want; BBQ, satay, kebab, tandoori but grilled meat in every form is the immovable blockade on my road to vegetarianism. I have had the chance to travel quite a bit in the United States and sampled American barbecue in its many, glorious forms. I've had ribs in Memphis, brisket in Texas, compared North Carolina's vinegar sauce to South Carolina's mustard BBQ sauce (South Carolina wins that one in my opinion) and chowed down in Kansas City. And now, as of last Sunday, I can add the Uruguayan version of grilled meat, asado, to the list.

In Uruguay, grilling meat is a big deal. In fact, per capita, Uruguayans consitently have some of the highest rates of meat consumption in the world. Much of the country is covered in grasslands and in the past, vast herds of steaks and lamb chops roamed these pampas, herded by gauchos, Uruguay's cowboys. Today these herds are not so prevalent as it is more common for farmers to grow soy to feed to cows in feedlots. Anyway, long story short, Uruguayans love a good cookout.

Last Sunday, we decided to have an asado because someone's sister had just returned from Italy and of course, no celebration is complete with some meat over a grill. Ribs were purchased, the matches were out and everybody was ready to cook out. However, there was one minor problem. We did not have the key to the backyard where the grill (parilla) and firewood were located. A bag of bright red ribs was sitting on our kitchen table without a flame in sight. However, the cookout would continue. Scrounging around the basement of the student residence, grates and concrete blocks were found that would become our parrilla. Firewood was found and a soon a makeshift parilla was built in the courtyard of our building. Everyone congregated to the fire. Suddenly someone was playing a guitar. Within minutes of lighting the coals, a strong sense of community had developed. (There was even a vegetarian present and she was enjoying herself as much as the next carnivore) An additional aspect of community was present in the makeup of the waiting diners, as the group was comprised of Uruguayans, four Germans and me (the lone estadounidense). Our levels of Spanish/English/German differed but there was shared feeling of coming together for a meal. Finally, at about 1 AM, the meat was ready. You cannot live on meat alone, so a salad and potatoes were prepared to accompany the meat. It was a great time, fourteen people, sharing a meal. I definitely ate way too much and thanks to the properties of red meat, fell asleep much more quickly that night than I normally do.

I woke up the next morning, with two conclusions on my mind. The first has to do with the focus of YAGM and why I am here in Uruguay. An important facet of YAGM is the model of accompaniment, which is to walk beside others, learn from them as they learn from you and grow together. The asado helped me realize that this accompaniment is not something that merely happens when I walk along side the kids at La Obra. Accompaniment happens in the place I live, on the bus, in the line at the grocery store and wherever my feet carry me in Montevideo. It is something I do not always realize as it is happens.