A lesson in cooking

In Argentina, breakfast is a mere afterthought with lunch being of the utmost importance. The almuerzo, as it is called, is a time for family to gather around and share not only a meal, but stories as children and adults alike return home around one o’clock for this daily ritual.  

Since my host siblings and I sleep in until around 1 p.m. on the weekends, we usually wear our pajamas to lunch—hence, I have found the Argentine equivalent to breakfast in bed.

It all started when my host mother, Delia, wanted to teach me how to cook a Spanish dish. I suggested I learn how to make empanadas, since I had tried them in the United States a few times and figured they would be easy enough to make. What I did not know was the family ritual that often accompanies the making of empanadas in South America.

Soon, what began as a simple lesson soon turned into a party, with my host mother, sister, Constanza, and I hustling around in the kitchen to the sound of a mariachi band playing in the background.

Mom took out a pot the size of a kettle and began tossing in meat, onions, peppers and eggs, cutting them up in the process, while directing my host sister and I what to do next.

As the mixture cooked, Constanza and I sneaked a spoonful of the tasty concoction to our mother’s disapproval as she playfully shooed us away. Next, she took out the precut dough used to make empanadas and showed me how to stuff and fold them.

When I reached for a piece of dough, she shook her head and pulled out a device that looked more like the jaws of a shark than a cooking utensil. Instead of folding the empanadas into crescents by hand and using a fork to press them shut, she wanted me to use the plastic device, an equivalent to training wheels for empanada making.

As the three of us stood at the counter making the empanadas, we danced around and sang along to the music in the background, grabbing a spoonful of meat here and there, folding the empanadas and then carefully placing them on one of the many pans.

Before long, we had what appeared to be forty empanadas and I asked my mother if we were going to be making hundreds; it certainly appeared so as mounds began to cover the counters and the aroma swirled around the kitchen as we hurried to set the table.

When the whole family finally sat down to eat, I discovered that I had learned more than how to make empanadas—I realized the importance of a home cooked family meal.

There is no such thing as fast food in Argentina; everything here is much slower, every bite savored, every story told around the table.

I think this cross-cultural tradition of a family meal is slowly being forgotten in American society, as children are rushed off to different activities and adults are forced eat around work schedules.

In America, we rarely have enough free time for the whole family to sit down for two hours a day. Yes, it takes two hours to eat lunch in Argentina. I am not suggesting we Americans begin making empanadas in pajamas anytime soon, pancakes and waffles and breakfast in bed will suffice.

It is not the type of food or time of day that matters most, but the time spent with family that makes lunch in Argentina not only a meal, but a family affair and cultural experience in and of itself. I think I speak for everyone when I say I’ll eat to that.

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