1. The steak in Colonia, Uruguay. Our first few days in Buenos Aires had been kind of disappointing in the food department, and for a moment we thought we might have set our expectations a little too high. You may remember that our very first dinner on the continent was officially disavowed. But then we found El Portòn in Colonia, where I got a juicy, rare, flavorful tenderloin covered in a rich, creamy mushroom sauce (previously and erroneously labeled a "champagne-based sauce" due to yours truly's prior ignorance of the proper translation of champignon) that permanently restored our hope in the continent's culinary caliber.
2. The fried fish in Valparaiso, Chile. Simple and simply as good as fried fish can be. And super-cheap to boot. The fish was reineta, which I still haven't been able to translate (it's not hake, as previously reported); it was a white fish fried to a perfect golden crisp by the seasoned hands at a small, very fishy restaurant down by the docks that had oars and buckets and boats hanging on the walls for decor. Just terrific.
3. The clam soup in Santiago, Chile. As bad as the first two items were good. Cold, slimy, bitter, sour, goopy, smelly, and served to me as I sat on an uncomfortable chair in a tiny, dirty little hole in the wall. All after we had been assaulted on all sides by the incredibly obnoxious touts in the rest of the market. That meal put me in a bad mood for hours.
4. The mercado central lunches in Cusco, Peru. While the food here wasn't necessarily that remarkable or even good - aside from my first attempt being quite confusing - this was definitely our most bona fide meal.
5. The meal in the mountains in Valparaiso, Chile. You may remember this meal from the impossibly ridiculous way that Dylan chose to describe it in his blog. I'll be honest; I don't even remember what I got. Dylan thinks it was another steak. It was delicious, whatever it was. The best part of that meal wasn't the food, though - it was the atmosphere, which managed to perfectly fit our moods of the day. It was mellow, detail-oriented, rich and interesting without pretension, featuring a cute waitress, thoughtful hostess, and a bizarrely interesting Iranian documentary filmmaker. Certainly the most memorable meal experience.
6. The corner café in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Also known as the birthplace of Dylan and my banana milkshake obsession. Equipped with everything you need for a good breakfast except bacon and french toast and maple syrup. Alright, so they didn't have what you need for a good breakfast, and yet, we loved going there in the mornings for coffee and in the afternoons for snacks. Surrounded by local porteños drinking their espressos while reading about the coming elections and served by a friendly wait staff that had come to know our names, Dylan, Alex and I were regular joes at this place. Even Gerald couldn't ruin it for us. There wasn't any one particularly noteworthy food experience at this place, but in a way it helped to set the tone for the rest of the trip. A definite favorite.
7. The ribs in Salta, Argentina. This was when we went to a place called Viejo Jack a few blocks off the beaten trail in Salta thanks to a spot-on recommendation from the guy who ran the hostel we stayed at our first night in town. Unwittingly ordering double-size entreés, Dylan and I scarfed down four enormous racks of delicious, no-frills ribs apiece. Nothing makes you feel like a big, strong manly man than downing 32 ribs in one sitting.
8. The weekly pasta with red sauce. Every once in a while, Dylan and I have panicked that we've been spending too much money, so we scrap plans for dinner and go to the nearest supermarket to pick up a pound of pasta, some tomato sauce, grated parmesan cheese, bread, and something to drink, all for about $2 each. We've probably done it 7-10 times the whole trip, and I'll be honest - it's been a nice, if slightly pathetic, little link to home.
9. The Caesar salad in Buenos Aires, Argentina. At some point in B.A., we decided to try this place down the street that Alex had thought looked pretty good. You all know how much I love getting Ceasar salads in the U.S., and this was the first one I had seen on a menu. It was the worst salad I've ever had, and there was an unreal amount of it. "How bad could a salad possibly be?" is a question I will never ask again. It took me five weeks to muster up the courage to order another salad on this continent, and it was only at the very end, at a real Italian place in Lima, that I had a decent one. Dylan actually went the entire trip without getting a regular salad because of my B.A. monstrosity.
10. Lunch today. We haven't had it yet, but we're going out to a nice restaurant in the Barranco section of Lima for a celebratory last meal. I'm just going to expect that the ceremony of it alone will be sufficient for inclusion on this list.
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