Milanesas with spring salad. I cry for you Argentina

It was October 2006 and our long journey finally ended. Almost 30 hours travelling, three flights, bad jet lag and...a small round belly that was timidly showing to the world. I was three and a half months pregnant with Aurelia, my eldest daughter, and in Buenos Aires, my second diplomatic posting after Solomon Islands, the third one for my husband Nick, whom I met in Spain.

I remember we went straight from the airport to Recoleta, a very fancy area of Buenos Aires  famously  known by the cemetery where Evita Peron is resting - in case you didn't know, she was the second wife of the Argentine President Juan Peron and the First Lady of Argentina from 1946 until her death in 1952.

The embassy rented a temporary apartment for us - until we could find one to live for the next three years, which took us a couple of months of inspecting several ones, including one with dead cockroaches in the living room! - a few metres away from that cemetery, and close to the "girly" bars. In the evenings, the prostitutes were waiting for their turn and hopefully, to have a lucky night. These lovely ladies were also brought to the apartment above ours, any time of the day.  I could even hear the sexual activity at 11 o'clock in the morning while I was making a Spanish omelette. My invisible ear plugs tried to block the noise, but sometimes it was impossible!

I was saying that  on the day we arrived, October 12, the afternoon was still warm and appealing for a nice walk to refresh our tired minds. However, we didn't go too far from where we started because I harshly stopped Nick by the arm and begged him to have something to eat, like a good pregnant woman.

Of course, darling, he said.  With your first pregnancy, your husband spoils you  because it is new and exciting for the two of you. With the second pregnancy, you have to remind him...and with the third one, forget it, you look after yourself .

Anyway, there we were, in a trendy "empanadas" bar of Las Heras street,  trying to understand the menu on the black board. It was written in Spanish but with words totally strange for me. There were a few empty tables and some people watching the golden years of Maradona playing soccer on the television. The friendly and attractive waitress behind the bar noticed our perplexed faces and helped us with some useful questions such as queres una Quilmes (local beer)? unas empanadas de choclo o de carne? estan resabrosas!...un pica pica? I said yes to everything, thanks. It is the easiest answer when you are doubting and starving as I was.

During my first few days in Buenos Aires I felt like a truly foreigner, to my surprise. My first impression of the city was totally unexpected. It wasn't Europe but neither South  America, it was in between. Perhaps the reason is found in the fact that the city of the tango and the exquisite beef had a strong influence from the Spanish people (especially from the North of Spain and that's why the Argentineans used to call me "gallega" which is synonym of Spanish) and from the Italians who immigrated in the 19th and 20th century. It was in Argentina where I learnt to make fresh pasta at home thanks to that Italian background.

I needed a couple of weeks to tune my ear to that enchanting and musical accent and a another two months to meet my very first Argentinean friend. Her name was Claudia and I met her in a swimming pool of a country house, on Christmas day, wearing Nick's underpants. 

It was a very hot day and I felt the heat boiling in my veins thanks to the wonderful side effects of the pregnancy, which I was discovering month by month. I decided to go to the pool because  the air conditioner of my room, of the "luxury" country house - as the travel agency reassured us when we made the bookings - didn't work. I didn't pack my swimmers - swimming isn't usually in my holidays plan - consequently, I took my tight black singlet and borrowed Nick's long blue underpants. This will do the trick, I said to myself, I am sure no one will notice. Wrong.

Claudia did and laughed quietly at me thinking that this Spanish girl doesn't fit in the stereotype of a diplomat's wife, really. This funny moment made the "click" in our friendship, one in a million. Being ridiculous sometimes is a very good thing!

I gave birth four months after Claudia had her daughter Camila in January 2007. Claudia also introduced me to a beautiful, warm and soft heart Mexican friend called Mariana, who had her son Nicolas a couple of weeks before Claudia.

The three of us shared the delights and worries that accompany the first motherhood for two and a half years we were together in Buenos Aires. We created a strong bonding and a friendship that will last forever. They made my posting in Buenos Aires unforgettable. 

At the same time I am writing these lines about my close friends that I met seven years ago, I am thinking, a bit concerned, of an earlier conversation I had yesterday afternoon with my daughter Aurelia when I picked her up from school. 

- I don't like my life (she actually said "hate")

- Why is that, darling?

- Because I have to move all the time, start a new school and meet new friends. I miss Daniel and Axel, and my girlfriends. 

- I understand, it is hard, difficult and frustrating for you, and for your dad and mum too, I assure you, but you are doing very well and we are proud of you. You know, I have one or two friends in each country I have lived with your father

- Whatever. I don't care, I don't want to make new friends never ever again. That way, I won't say good bye. 

Since I met Nick and began my journey with him around the world, I have said "good bye" more often than I have pronounced my own name. It is part of life, the diplomatic life, the one I have chosen to share with Nick. 

However, my children didn't choose that style of life, it was given to them when they were born .  They didn't choose to leave a place and their friends and to start from zero in another country. At least for now, while they are still small. They are children of diplomats or as we have been told, "The third culture kids". 

Nick was also a son of a diplomat so the story repeats again with Aurelia, Gabriel and Juanan.

Aurelia and Gabriel have met good little friends already in Buenos Aires, Manila and even here in Canberra. Will these friendships stay forever? Who knows.

In any case, they will have to decide by themselves. Not us. We already did by leaving Manila and soon Canberra. 

Actually, in three weeks time we will head off to our next adventure! Peru, here we come!!!

PS: By the time I have finished writing this post during this weekend it has been officially announced that Nick will be His Excellency, the Ambassador, of the Australian Embassy in Peru. We will be there for three years so plenty of time to visit us, and the Machu Picchu.

Milanesas or chicken schnitzel 

They were very popular  in Argentina, and we had them for dinner very often in our house of Quintana street but also when we went out. With the practice, I have learnt how to make them as good as I remember eating them in our favourite restaurant Standard. Although it is never the same. Here are my tips:

1. Get very thin cuts of chicken breasts or even better, veal. If you can't buy them thin, use a tenderiser tool (it looks like a heavy hammer) and give the meat a couple of bangs! That will break the connective tissues.
2. First, season the meat.
3. Prepare three plates with flour (I mix it with a big tablespoon of mustard powder, but you don't have to), beaten egg and breadcrumbs - in that order so you don't get confused - Pass the meat first by the flour, shake well, then beaten egg, and wait until there is not more dripping, and finally by breadcrumbs, pressing gently with your hands.
4. Let the meat rest at room temperature for 20 minutes at least.
5. Heat enough olive oil to cover the meat, about 1 cm. If you are mean with the oil, the food will absorb more grease. I learnt this advice in a cookbook about healthy tips for cooking. You know the oil will be ready when you add a breadcrumb and it turns brown in 10 seconds. It should be 180 degrees.
6. As soon as the oil is ready, place one at time milanesa gently and swim it around so it creates pockets of air (according to Melissa Clark's cookbook). Cook for about 5 minutes or until golden brown and cooked through.
7. Drain the milanesa on a kitchen paper to get rid of the oil.

Note: it is ideal to use olive oil, but sunflower or vegetable oil will do. I have tried in the past to cook the milanesas in the oven, without oil, and the result is a very dry meal. If you really want to eat a proper milanesa, you have to FRY it, and with breadcrumbs (I have also made them with almond meal and again, it wasn't as good as the real deal). My advice, stick to the proper method and if you are on a diet, choose a different dish!

Spring salad

I totally made up this colourful and delicious salad to accompany the schnitzel. I usually roast 4 big beetroots for an hour or so and keep them unpeeled in the fridge, ready to use them during the week: for the baby with mash potatoes, in chocolate muffins and... of course, in salads. 

I called this spinach and rocket salad "spring" in honour of the next season which is just round the corner. Add some cherry tomatoes, avocado, some crumble feta cheese (if you get the Persian one, you won't regret the price you paid for it) and some roasted nuts you might have in the pantry.

For the dressing, I whisked in a little bowl 4 tbsp red wine vinegar with 4 tbsp olive oil (or the oil where the Persian feta cheese was marinated), 4 tbsp maple syrup (or two tsp honey) and 1 garlic clove crushed (or grated).  Toss the dressing over the salad and check for seasoning.

Note: Toast the nuts before adding them to salads. 

Note: I always add the dressing around the inside part of the salad bowl , not on top of the salad, and then mix carefully