Provoleta

Last night we just fried up the provoleta that I had trekked down to Graziano's in Miami to purchase for Christmas Eve dinner.  Considering that the Noche Buena table was already heavily weighted with all sorts of cured meats, cheeses, breads, panetón, marinated vegetables, fresh anchovies, and John's Swedish meatballs and a spiral ham, as well as a platter of pigs in blankets, we decided to hold off on the provoleta that night.  However, every time I opened the "deli drawer" in the refrigerator, the vacuum-sealed package of two pale disks sprinkled with dried oregano and chili flakes kept looking back at me, almost asking me if tonight was the night it would get eaten.  Well, John decided to purchase some crusty Italian bread and make last night the night that we would partake in this Argentine and Uruguayan delicacy.

Argentina and Uruguay really don't have a very complex or even interesting cuisine.  It's actually very simple and relies heavily on grilled steaks and New World interpretations of European - mostly Italian - dishes.  Go to any Argentine and/or Uruguayan grocery or restaurant and you will be confronted by mostly a selection of meats and sausages, as well as a selection of pastas - no exotic seasonings, and very few vegetables.  Don't get me wrong.  The few dishes that comprise both countries' cuisines are very well made, and both Argentina and Uruguay are known throughout the world as being masters in grilling steaks.  Additionally, I consider the best Italian inexpensive Italian food to be had in Miami is to be had at an Argentine or Uruguayan restaurant; just like the Italians from which many of them descend, they have unrelenting standards when it comes to quality of ingredients and freshness.

Perhaps the national dish of both countries is La Parrillada (or El Asado), which is closest in nature to an American barbecue, but is comprised of different cuts of grilled beef, as well as sausages and some offal (their grilled sweetbreads are some of the best that I've tried).  As an appetizer to this style of cooking, there is provoleta, which is a slice of firm provolone (not the kind used in an Italian sub sandwich) coated with oregano and chili flakes and quickly grilled over a very hot open flame rendering a crispy crust and a gooey interior.  Call it South American fondue (or raclette), if you will.  

The technique is pretty tricky to master, as the cheese can drip through the grates of the grill and cause flare ups.  The short cut way to make provoleta is on the stove.  Leave the provoleta out for about an hour, unwrapped, so that the exterior forms a sort of light "crust".  You might have noticed this with cheese plates that have sat along too long, especially on cheeses like gouda or cheddar.  When ready to prepare, heat a nonstick pan over medium heat and add just a little bit of oil to coat the bottom.  Place the slice of provoleta on the frying pan, and cook until bubbly and crusty on one side, then flip over with a spatula until a slight crust forms on the other side.  Put the provoleta on a plate and eat immediately with a baguette or ciabatta.  This really is a great dish to serve with wine for a an informal get-together.