July 9 is independence day in Argentina, and I wanted to celebrate by re-sharing the story of a taxi adventure that led to what became one of my favorite things to eat in Buenos Aires.
May 13, 2007: Rosa, my bikini waxer from the northwestern province of Tucumán, is trying to distract me as she rips my hair from unspeakable places. “You really write about food?” she says. “Yes,” I gasp, holding still as she attacks some stubborn strands with tweezers, “Right now I’m obsessed with empanadas.” She laughs
Tafí del Valle, Tucumán - You are in the foothills of the Andes in northwest Argentina, sitting on the covered porch at Las Carreras, an estancia that produces a cow’s milk manchego that is easily the best cheese you’ve tasted in Argentina. Full of fine cheese, tipsy from a full-bodied Tannat from Bodegas Nanni,
“Some of us have to work for a living.” The taxi driver didn’t actually say it, but I could read the words in his eyes. “I’m a taxi driver,” he said, “I don’t have a favorite restaurant because I eat every meal at home.” He bent over, removed a binder from underneath the passenger