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© 2009 Dan Perlman |
Casa SaltShaker
Buenos Aires, Argentina
October 20, 2010
If there's a will, there's a vegan meal in the works
Maggie Downs
American chef Dan Perlman runs a
closed-door restaurant and offers cooking classes at his home in
Argentina. (Photos
by Maggie Downs The Desert Sun) Argentina is a country that asks the question, “Can man live on beef
alone?“ That answer is yes. It is a land where every fork holds a steak and no
tripe is left behind. For vegetarians and vegans, however, Argentina is a long, lonely road
ricocheting between pizza and pasta and back again. During the month I spent
there, it was extremely rare to see a vegetable other than tomato sauce. So when I heard about Dan Perlman's cooking classes, I welcomed the
opportunity to take a detour from the typical fare — even though that meant
making Mexican food in Buenos Aires. Perlman is an American chef who lives in Argentina with his Peruvian
partner, Henry Tapia. Together they run a closed-door restaurant called Casa
Saltshaker, serving multi-course gourmet meals in the comfort of their cozy
home — a dinner party of perfect strangers seated around a communal table. Each dinner features a different set menu, which guests can see in
advance on the Casa Saltshaker website. Reservations are made through
e-mail. Closed-door restaurants are plentiful and popular throughout Argentina,
but Perlman was the first to openly discuss the trend with the media. His
meals have been featured in The New York Times, Boston Globe, Food & Wine
magazine and international foodie blogs. When Perlman isn't whipping up fancy dinners, he teaches a variety of
cooking courses — some vegetarian, some not — in his own kitchen. My visit
happened to coincide with the vegan Mexican fiesta, a menu that included
fresh corn and spinach tortillas and seitan simmered in molé sauce. Three other people attended the class, including a writer from San
Rafael, Argentina, and a Buenos Aires woman who is moving soon to attend
culinary school in New York. Many Central American chiles do not exist in Argentina, so Perlman first
gave us a primer on substitutions to achieve some necessary spice and zest
in South America. From there, the class was all hands-on, with the four of
us tackling chopping, sauteeing, kneading and frying. The process fed me
more than the meal — squishing my fingers in the masa, stirring a fragrant
cauldron of toasted nuts and fresh herbs, the satisfying chop of knife
through squash. A couple hours later, there was a feast on the table before us. The food
was good — a culinary tennis match for the tongue, bouncing between complex
sauces and soft, warm tortillas — but the cozy atmosphere and friendship
were even tastier. The experience definitely felt more personal than any restaurant, more
like visiting an old friend who also happens to be a wonderful chef. Plus, the meal was served with a certain sense of ownership, since we had
all participated in its creation. It reminded me why people cook: More than mere nutrition, food is
supposed to please the palate, feed your heart and nourish the soul. And perhaps that's what I had been missing most in my tangles of
spaghetti and unremarkable pizza.
Writer Maggie Downs learned how to make Mexican mole in Argentina.
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