Check the Group Chat, Chuletón

It sure is something special to finish eating your dinner at 1:25 in the morning.

Today I am going to put my sweet tooth in time out for 20 minutes and write in praise of meat.

Last week, I had the opportunity to dine on a special sort of meat with friends. Chuletón, it's called. Chuletón is "on the bone rib-eye steaks from 8-16 year old dairy cattle reared in the pastures around the Portuguese and Galician borders," if details are what you desire (Source).

But this wasn't just any dinner. This was a pre-meditated and expertly planned gathering of people willing to carve out hours of their evening to taste something said to change the composition of your tastebuds forevermore, if you let it (I'm exaggerating, but still).

The first whisperings of this plan, its initial invitations, hatched one Friday in the wee hours of the morning nearly a month ago, likely in between chupitos. I can't reveal whether Chuletón was being craved in the moment of its consumption's conception, because that's a mystery to us all. But it resulted in a fantastic evening, so I am grateful.

After the idea was devised, a group chat was promptly created. The chat began as an elite few who had coherently expressed interest in joining for the event. Slowly, day by day, the group grew. It was called: "Chuletón."

I suppose some began to speak of their upcoming plans in the sunlight, and others heard. Maybe they became intrigued. Could this really be so good? Have I also got to try this meat? Why can I not find this restaurant called "Chuletón" on Google Maps? (Honest mistake.) Pairs naturally formed to share the dish; prospective dates were tossed about; fairness and justice were debated; grammar was mercilessly corrected; international trips were re-arranged; space ships landed; summer turned to autumn, etc. Finally, a time was set; everyone was happy. Friday, October 21st's sun could not rise soon enough. Now we had only to wait. (And wait.)

I'll spare you most of the details in favor of keeping up with this extended hyperbole, but know I am not exaggerating when I tell you the first bite of this mythological meat did blow my mind a bit. I do appreciate a good little filet, but historically I am the girl who goes to a nice steak restaurant and orders the market fish, preferring to snatch a bite or two of someone else's red meat when they've hit their fill. But this chuletón was different. It was something about the way I'd read it was going to be presented to me sliced perpendicular to the bone, and then it was; the perfectly-crispy edges and the glowingly rich sockeye-salmon-shaded interior; the irregularly-textured flaky salt crowning every bite like fallen snow (feeling ridiculous writing these descriptions, but I'm really trying to help you taste something from thousands of miles away, so work with me!). Oh, and the shrimp carpaccio I'd braved + the melt-in-my-mouth white asparagus (a delicacy here) I'd gobbled down moments before the main act landed steaming on our table...and the good wine, and the cheesecake to encore the night.

Everything, together, made this three-hour meal feel as if it were a ceremonial induction to the elevated gastronomy available to us here in La Rioja whenever we tire of oiled mushroom skewers on tiny toasts or fried pork intestines (though both are delicious. I promise). And, it was an excellent chance to laugh till I cried and catch up on life lately among very good friends from around the world. (Funnily enough, the restaurant is also on my walk to school, so I've started giving it a hearty wave every morning if my coffee's kicked in).

I also went behind the scenes and got the chef's permission to grab some footage of slicing and plating a cut of the meat for you. Look at that grace! Carnivorous ballet. Now that I've crossed that hurdle, I think I'll be confident enough to ask to do it again in the future. You're welcome, readers and chefs.

The point of this post? Not exactly sure. I guess...sometimes a bite of meat will bring world peace, evoke poetry, or change your life. Sometimes all three. Sometimes it will just be downright delicious.

Here's to many more adventurous meals with friends this year. Viva, Chuletón.

Looove and limoncello,

Ellie