Quincho: A Story of Food, Family, and Falling in Love
Córdoba, Argentina
In 2006, driven by nothing more than the insistence of my outrageously fantastic Argentine gypsy college advisor, I hopped a plane to Cordoba, Argentina. I would be an exchange student and live with a family there. The voyage to one’s first homestay can be a bit nerve-racking, but the moment I slid into that little silver compact car next to ridiculously cute Valentina looking inquisitively at me from the carseat, I knew it might be magic. They welcomed me with an unparalleled warmth and for the next month, I spent mornings in the kitchen softly chatting with Veronica while sharing a maté and eating warm biscuits with as much delectable dulce de leche as my heart desired. Quiet afternoons passed quickly with 1 1/2 year old Valentina exploring my growing jewelry collection and giggling in a sun-filled bedroom. Evenings were filled with laughter as Jorge ventured guesses at how many fernet y colas I had enjoyed on my night out and we watched Casado con Hijos on a tiny TV. And before too long, this new family of mine treated me to my first asado. Oh, what a day… Jorge proudly prepared the meat on a wide, wood-fire grill known as a parilla in their quincho – the covered, brick-walled area in the corner of the backyard.
A Quincho is very common in Argentina but, at least in my experience, it looks different from place to place. From covered backyard spaces common in Cordoba, to the open-air, tree-shaded quincho nestled into the urban farm where we spent our days in Bariloche, to the fully-equipped, stand-alone brick and mortar gathering space we discovered in Bolsón, the quincho is always the place to be. Every quincho has a parilla, often a table and chairs at which to enjoy the fine foods that come off said parilla, and sometimes much more. Wikipedia defines it as the part of a house specifically designed for preparing asados (which I will get to in a later post, don’t you worry) and, to put it much too simply, getting together. The whole idea of constructing a space specifically for gathering and noshing makes me want to dance. Because those are probably my highest values in life.
Alas, I chose to call this project Quincho because I love what it represents and because, in a big way, this project is undeniably and massively inspired by my experiences eating mouth-watering asados in warm quinchos surrounded by new family.
I have returned to Argentina twice since 2006 and I intend to do so many more times… Jorge, Valentina, Veronica, and Jorgito (left to right) have welcomed me (and most recently, also my husband), with the same warmth each time. In 2014, they were in the midst of a fantastic remodel of their home that would give them more room for their now-larger family. Parts of that house where I spent my days 8 years ago were almost unrecognizable, but you can bet the quincho was still there, patiently waiting for it’s family to return.
And in the end, Argentina stole my heart. Few days go by when I don’t think at least for a second about our friends there, morning conversations over bitter maté, empanadas on every corner, dulce de leche and medialunas in every coffee shop, men and women pushing melancholy tango melodies out of their ancient accordions on city streets, the endless tranquility of the Pampas, or maybe the stunning landscapes of Patagonia. There is pride, passion, color, resilience, and beauty rising from every corner of this vast country, and I’m in love with it.
I have so many more stories about the people and food of Argentina that I can’t wait to share with you but this is my first story here, and it seems fitting. My goal is to share my experiences of eating, cooking, and loving around the world, so that you might discover a new place and people in the food on your plate and the smell that fills your Quincho.