Street Meat

We have dined in many restaurants in the last eight months...succulent, impossibly juicy steaks in Buenos Aires, fresh ceviche in Peru - made with fish caught mere hours before - so spicy it nearly made me cry. Chicken and rice in Bolivia every day! But the true taste of South America is to be found on the streets. In every village, and every city, in every country on the continent, on most streets, the evening brings out ladies with grills, fryers, barbeques or juicers, and they cook and sell their delicious food to hungry customers.

In Bolivia, 60 pence gets you a home made hamburger with fries, made by my friend the Burger Lady. I visited her every night I was in La Paz. In Peru, skewers of cow's heart, surprisingly tender, sizzle away as a crowd of people salivate. In Chile, they spoon unhealthy amounts of guacamole on your hot dog. In Argentina, choripan - chorizo hot dog with chimichurri - is the order of the day. In Huanchaco we ate street food practically every day. Walking down the beach to the pier where the ladies with their carts congregate became a ritual in our lazy beach days. Everything was fried. Except the corn. Chips, chicken, strange things made from pumpkin drizzled with fig honey. A full menu on the pavement. As you wait for your food you chat with your chef, and, more often than not, as you sit on the kerb, munching away, when you finish you go back for more. This is true dining.