Where is the Beef?

"If you don't like steak, don't go to Argentina!"
That was Doron's advice.   When he later modified his warning to "...steak or ice-cream...", and since I like the occasional steak, I felt free to go.

Walking in Buenos Aires at lunch (noon-3), or dinner (9-midnight), it is impossible to ignore the tempting fragrance of roasting meat.  Every city-block hosts at least one Parilla (grill restaurant), and the aroma floods the sidewalks.  Eventually, you succumb to the temptation, and walk in.  The food always lived up to the promise.  Even though at times, the menu resembled a class in cow anatomy, there was no worry;  whichever cut I ordered,  I was served with a large, thick, and juicy slab, that was as good looking as it was tasty.  The meat is usually accompanied by fried potatoes and a glass of wine, and the price is very kind.

However, after enjoying Argentina's beef for a couple of weeks, I have learned two things.

1. There is only so much meat I can take.   I need at least two days of a total salad diet before I can even think about my next carnivorous meal.
2. Debbie's family BBQ recipe, prepared by either father, brother, or son, (Poor Debbie is vegetarian.) can easily stand up to any of the cuts I tasted in Argentina.

I must admit that so far, I have only eaten in neighborhood Parillas.  I am working my way up to the more famous beef joints.  If my evaluation changes, I will post an update here.