Many of my most cherished memories are deeply tied to specific scents, illustrating the powerful connection between smells and emotional recollections, often referred to as the Proust Effect. For instance, the aroma of cinnamon rolls instantly transports me to the bustling atmosphere of US airports during travels with my mother, and the rich scent of freshly brewed Colombian coffee evokes the warmth of home.
Yet nothing compares to the profound association I have with the smell of burning wood and charcoal on the streets of Buenos Aires during my weekend morning strolls. This simple, primal scent carries with it layers of history and tradition, especially as it wafts from the fires that Argentines kindle for their revered asado, that pairs perfectly with their Malbecs.
Fire, since the dawn of time, has been more than a survival tool—it has shaped human evolution and social structures. The Argentine asado captures this essence perfectly, transforming a cooking method into a cultural symphony of fire, food, and fellowship. Each asado is unique, with the asado (grill master) imprinting personal touches on the tradition. Yet, amid these variations, there’s a constant — a beloved sauce that is as essential to the asado as the fire itself: the chimichurri.
Chimichurri your ticket into this wild world of bold flavors and skillfully handled, massive cuts of meat. Picture this: you’re standing by a sizzling grill, the air is thick with the seductive aroma of charcoal and scorched meat. Your appetite is not just whetted; it’s grabbing you by the collar and demanding satisfaction.
Chimichurri is the rogue sidekick to your flame-charred steak, the Thelma to your carnivorous Louise. You start with fresh parsley — not that dried nonsense that’s been sitting at the back of your cupboard. Chop it up nice and fine. Then garlic, because what’s a little heat among friends?
In goes the oregano — dry is fine here, we’re not making a salad, and parsley’s the star of the show. Next, red wine vinegar (or a bit of old wine, if you have some from the night before) and a glug of good olive oil. This isn’t the time for your cheap stuff. Get the quality oil, the kind you’d reserve for your favorite guests
A pinch of salt, a crush of red pepper flakes — it’s really as straightforward as it gets, but get this right, and your chimichurri sings. Whisk it all together, like you’re stirring up trouble. Let it sit. Let those flavors mingle and plot their next move.
Now, slather that verdant, garlicky goodness over a steak so perfectly grilled, it could make a grown man weep. Watch it. The chimichurri seeps into every charred fissure, unapologetically bold and refreshingly tangy against the smoky umami of the meat.
And there you have it. Chimichurri. Not just a sauce — a statement. Because if you’re going to eat meat, do it with audacity and a good sauce, made just the way you like it.
Ingredients
- Fresh Parsley: 1 handful (50 grams), because fresh is always best.
- Red Wine Vinegar: 1 glass, the acidic backbone.
- Extra Virgin Olive Oil: 5 glasses, the silky carrier of flavors.
- Ground Red Pepper or Hot Paprika: 1 tablespoon, for a touch of fire.
- Oregano: 1 tablespoon, the earthy notes.
- Sweet Paprika: 1 tablespoon, for color and sweetness.
- Black Pepper: 1 tablespoon, freshly ground for a spicy kick.
- Garlic: 5 cloves, finely chopped, because garlic is the soul of chimichurri.
- Lemon Juice: From 1 lemon, for that fresh zing.
- Salt: To taste, as the flavor enhancer.
Preparation
- Prep the Parsley: Grab that bunch of parsley and show it who’s boss. Wash it thoroughly and chop it up finely. Toss it into a deep bowl where the magic will happen.
- Garlic: Get those garlic cloves peeled and take a sharp knife to them. Chop them into tiny bits—this isn’t a job for the lazy. Throw them in with the parsley.
- Spice It Up: Add the ground red pepper (or hot paprika if you’re feeling fiery), sweet paprika, black pepper, salt, and oregano. This is your flavor arsenal.
- Lemon Twist: Squeeze in the juice of one lemon, making sure no seeds sneak in to crash the party. Stir it all together, letting every piece get a nice lemony coat.
- Vinegar and Oil: Pour in the red wine vinegar followed by the olive oil. This isn’t a salad dressing, so go bold with the oil. Mix it vigorously. You want every leaf and speck of spice swimming nicely.
- Storage: Transfer this vibrant green elixir into a clean glass jar—glass keeps flavors pure. Store it at room temperature if it’s cool out, or in the fridge to keep it longer. It only gets better with time.
- Serving: Unleash this sauce on anything that dares come off your grill—steak, chicken, even a robust fish. It’s also a champion on salads or as a marinade.
Remember, chimichurri is like a jazz improvisation — feel free to riff. Swap parsley for cilantro or basil if that’s your jam, tone down the heat by skipping the red pepper, or switch olive for sunflower oil for a lighter touch.
So fire up your grill, pure yourself a glass of Malbec, and let the bold flavors do the talking. This is chimichurri, and it’s not just a condiment — it’s a way of life at the grill.
Cheers,
Diego
