Posts Tagged ‘Argentina’

The name alone makes this sauce from Argentina worth a try.

The taste is fresh and piquant.


According to Wikipedia, the origin of the name dates from the arrival of Basque immigrants to Argentina in the 19th century–at least that’s one theory!

Tximitxurri was a Basque sauce loosely translated as “a mixture of several things–in no particular order!”.

It’s appealingly vague–and has the ring of truth.

I had some parsley to spare and a good supply of capers in the fridge–add red or white wine vinegar, olive oil, red onion or shallots and garlic–in no particular order and…

I tried it with the mackerel at lunch.

Meredith thought it overpowered the fish but I enjoyed it–made up a bit for the disappointing mackerel.



1 tbsp capers

2 tbsp red onion or shallots–chopped

1 tbsp red or white wine vinegar

1 clove of garlic–chopped

4 good handfuls of parsley–chopped a couple of times by hand;

3 tbsp olive oil

salt and pepper to taste

Put first four ingredients in a food mixer and add the olive oil, spoon by spoonful, after each pulse.

The parsley retains its brilliant green better if the leaves aren’t too bashed about.

Season and pulse once more before decanting the sauce into a favorite serving bowl.

Lamb chops with chimichuri or indeed chimichuri with lamb chops next time!








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Twice in a week!

Monday night we were in Argentina; last night it was Brazil.

At Café Plum in Lautrec a talented trio called Fado do Samba played a spirited samba set to a happy crowd of spectators, a considerable number of whom succumbed to a desire to get up and dance.

It was lovely.

We arrive late as usual.

The walled courtyard–open to the sky–of this recent and welcome addition to Lautrec’s cultural scene is jam-packed with holidaymakers and locals–sitting round the magnificent lime tree (linden) that reaches to the sky from its centre.

This time we bring our own chairs.

We edge in at the back behind the only two people wearing hats.

The woman’s is a jaunty synthetic floppy number and–luckily for me–see-through.

Her husband’s straw-looking trilby–on Meredith’s side–is not.

They dress alike: green tops each, a white dress for her and white trousers for him–to go with the hats.

She is bavardeuse (chatty) and he never says a word–I’m with him!

Stoicly we refuse to allow the slightly obstructed view to spoil our enjoyment of the music.

My feet start tapping involuntarily and Meredith has trouble keeping still while taping the panning shots.

We order a glass of red each and settle back.

Fortunately for us it’s not long before Monsieur and Madame Chapeau find the rhythm irresistible and get up to dance–un-obscuring our view.


We leave just before the encore and head for the car, parked a few metres down the street.

We can still hear the music loud and clear and like Les Chapeaux, find it irresistible.

Two foreigners dance in the empty street under a moonless sky, counting their lucky stars!

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