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Good Buys in South American Wines

It's hard to understand why Torrontés isn't a front-runner among white wines. It's good with so much that we like to eat--spicy Thai food, Indian curries and seafood dishes such as ceviche and sashimi, for starters. 

Yet Torrontés is a hard sell, says Michael J. Barlett of Blends, who represented one of only three poured at Wine LA's "Tasting South America" at the Peninsula in Beverly Hills (above)."There is not a lot of demand. We don't sell a lot of it. People like it, but we can't get anybody to buy it," he said. 

Bartlett poured the 2014 Torrontés from Tomero in the Uco Valley in Mendoza (at the right in the photo). Fermented 100% in stainless steel, it offered lovely fresh fruit flavors. The winery also exhibited a Malbec and a Cabernet Sauvignon. 

Even more of a hard sell is the white wine Albariño. People just don't know the grape, said Bartlett (above) as he poured the 2014 Albariño from Bodega Garzón in Uruguay. There, Albariño is a premier grape, and this wine, with its pleasing minerality, is a very good example. 

The most typical Urguayan red wine is Tannat, and the 2013 from Garzón is peppery, spicy and excellent with hearty meats and sauces. Garzón ferments its Tannats in stainless steel or unlined concrete and ages them 12 to 15 months in new French oak. The good news is that both of these Uruguayan wines are available here (BevMo, Whole Foods).

The only Uruguayan winery at the tasting, Bodega Garzón is a working farm that produces olive oil and other crops. The vineyards enjoy pleasant ocean breezes, as they are only 11 miles from the Atlantic. 

I also tasted a Tannat from Vinícola Perini, a Brazilian winery. Founded by Italian immigrants, it has vineyards in Farroupilha, where the Tannat was produced, and Garibaldi.

The Macaw Tannat 2012, from Valle Trentino in Farroupilha, is very different from the Uruguayan Tannat, deeply colored but lighter, with an impression of sweetness. It would make a very good sangria. 

The Perini wines, which include a sparking Moscato and a Merlot poured at the tasting, arrived in the United States about four weeks ago and have acquired representation here.  

Other wines I liked--I tasted only 20 out of more than 70--included a Chilean Carmenere, the 2012 Gran Reserva from Carmen winery. Bright and fresh, the wine blends 94% Carmenere with Carignan and Tempranillo.

Viña Cremaschi Furlotti, from Chile, produced the only Nebbiolo poured at the tasting. Its 2011 limited edition Nebiollo exhibited good acidity and good fruit. 

I liked everything I tasted from Susana Balbo in Argentina (above). The barrel-fermented Signature Torrontés 2014 was excellent, a wine with character. The 2010 Nosotros Malbec, from Agrelo, was gorgeous. The BenMarco Expresivo 2013, a mostly Malbec blend, was rich and exciting, as was the 2012 Brioso, composed of half Cabernet Sauvignon blended with Malbec, Cabernet Franc, and Petit Verdot.

My last stop was at a table of wines without representation. This is sure to change, judging by the two poured by Valsecchi Wines from the Calchaqui Valley in Salta province in northwestern Argentina. Salta is known for white wines--it's the center of Torrontés--but these were reds, both of them powerful and memorable.

One was the 2008 Altoandino, a blend of 55% Malbec, 35% Cabernet Sauvignon and 5% Tannat, aged 22 months in new oak. The other was the 2007 Desafío, which is 95% Malbec and 5% Tannat. Valsecchi's 2008 Ukumar Tannat, from high altitude vines, didn't make it to the tasting.

Valsecchi is a young winery. Its first vintage was the 2004 Desafío. The first Altoandino was 2007. Production is limited, from a high of 600 cases annually of the Altoandino blend to 350 cases of Desafio and only 100 a year of Ukumar Tannat. Such notable wines are not cheap. The retail price for the Altoandino is $65, the table rep said, not excessive for something that good. 

Chile's Rodolfo Guzmán Cooks in L.A.

Food can be so clever that this is all you get--cleverness.  You ooh and aah at what you see. But flavor? It's in your imagination more than on the plate.

Not so when Rodolfo Guzmán cooks. This young Chilean chef is getting lots of attention at Boragó, his six-year-old restaurant in Santiago. 

Guzmán forages for unusual ingredients and presents them in striking ways. But the whole point is that his dishes taste good, as they did when he cooked a Chilean dinner at Playa Rivera. Read LA Weekly's Squid Ink to see what he served. 

Intense and dedicated, Guzmán worked all day at Playa to get ready for the dinner. At top you see him pounding one of the components of that meal, aromatic tepu wood that he brought from Chile.

Guzmán was one of several chefs chosen for Chilean food promotions at restaurants in the United States. I don't know who the others were, but we were lucky that he got the Los Angeles gig. 

Aurelio Montes Talks About His Wines

What's the difference between a Malbec produced in Argentina and one from Chile?

The Chilean wine is "more joyful," says Aurelio Montes, who makes Malbec in both locations." The Argentine wine is "more serious."

Montes (above) is one of four founders of Viña Montes, the Chilean wine company that produces wines at several locations in Chile and also in Argentina and California.

By "joyful," perhaps Montes means a lightening up that makes his wines more appealing to younger drinkers.

"My concern in making wines is to get the rid of the harsh, bitter tannins," he said. Grapes are picked later and riper, leading to "sweeter, more approachable, sensual tannins."

The wine are easy drinking, ready to pour as soon as they are purchased but can be aged up to 10 years, Montes said.

Another lure for younger buyers is price point. Although the iconic Montes Alpha M, a single vineyard red blend made from handpicked grapes (above), sells for $100, other wines provide quality drinking for $15, or less.

Among the lower priced wines poured at a lunch that Montes hosted at Boa Steakhouse in West Hollywood were a dry, crisp Limited Selection Leyda Sauvignon Blanc, a Montes Twins blend of Malbec and Cabernet Sauvignon (above), and a Carmenere that will arrive in American markets this summer.

Also coming this summer is a Montes Alpha Malbec, made in Chile. Not until January will we have a chance to taste a Montes Pinot Noir from the Santa Rita Hills in Santa Barbara.

In addition to the main vineyards in Chile, Montes produces Malbecs, Cabernets and a sparkling wine in Argentina under the label Kaiken. In California, there are two labels, Napa Angel and, from Paso Robles, Star Angel. These are small production lines, about 2,000 cases for each label.

Viña Montes has three winemakers in Chile, two in Argentina and one in California. From a modest start in 1987, the company is heading toward an annual production of 1 million cases. Of this, 95 % is exported.

"We never stop working," Montes said. "I wanted to prove we could make wines anywhere."

A Visit to Valpo

This is really scary. I can see through cracks in the floor boards to the steeply pitched rails beneath the little car in which I am riding. What if it should cut loose, plunge off the side or hurtle me to the bottom?

Ahhh. It reaches the top, the door opens, and I head out for a magnificent view of the harbor of Valparaiso, once Chile’s greatest port.

The harbor looks busy, but its heyday was long ago.  The opening of the Panama Canal put an end to the long voyage around the tip of South America, diverting ships far north of Valparaiso.

Although named a UNESCO World Heritage Site, this historic and picturesque city plays second fiddle to glamorous Vina del Mar next door. Tour groups go there for lunch after catching a few highlights of Valpo.

In order to see more, I have avoided the tours and taken an early morning bus from Santiago. My goal is to ride the historic ascensores (funiculars) that climb the dramatic hills upon which the city is built.

Constructed in the 19th and early 20th centuries, the ascensores are lovingly tended and, I presume, safe. More than a dozen still operate. The one I’ve just ridden goes up Cerro Artilleria (cerro means hill).

At the top, stalls sell tourist trinkets. A single restaurant has posted its lunch menu. And history buffs hike further to the Museo Naval y Maritimo (naval and maritime museum).

Another 250 pesos takes me down, and I board a bus to Ascensor Concepcion. “Tell the driver you want to go to Turri,” advises a woman at the bus stop, because that is the local name. This hill seems even steeper, but the trip is mercifully short.

Cerro Concepcion offers a cluster of inns, restaurants and cafes and a long walkway with benches where one can relax and enjoy the view. Still, I have been warned not to wander heedlessly, and I avoid an empty street where I see an individual I don’t trust.

Other tourists tell me that residents have directed them away from questionable areas and advised them to keep cameras hidden. Down below, I skirted two drunks as I headed toward a bus stop.

Downtown seems run down, and the houses that I have seen in the hills look flimsy and weathered, like homes perched above the ravines in Tijuana.

For lunch, I go to Café Turri on Cerro Concepcion, near the funicular terminal. This restaurant is in another world from what I have seen.  Modern, airy and upscale, it could well be on a hill in San Francisco or in an exclusive part of Santa Barbara.

View windows look out to a broad terrace and the sea beyond, but it is too cold to sit outside, although other tourists clamor for these tables.

Lunch is elegant. Fish (reineta) has a creamy seafood sauce that incorporates oysters, shrimp, mussels and razor clams. The potato gratin that the waiter suggests is just right with this.

I ask for a red wine, and he brings De Martino Legada Reserva Carmenere 2006 from the Maipo Valley.

Dessert is a Chilean classic, mote con huesillo, or cooked wheat with whole preserved peaches. In this upscale rendition, it becomes Vanidad Porteno (portenos are inhabitants of this port city) and is paired with a glass of late harvest wine, Casa Silva Semillon Gewurztraminer 2006 from the Colchagua Valley.

Another 250 pesos, and I am back down, map in hand, walking to an ascensor nearby.  But I get lost in the warren of twisting streets and never find it. Instead, I come across an artisanal fair and buy a jar of merquen, a spicy red pepper seasoning that originated with the indigenous Mapuches of the south.

Another booth has chumbeque, a traditional sweet from Iquique made of  flaky cookies blended with  lime juice and cane syrup. And another has fancy handmade chocolates.

Continuing on, I see grand, faded, European style buildings from Valparaiso’s glory days. A market street is congested—produce stalls, bakeries, empanada shops and a woman nodding in a chair beside a table of goods for sale.

Farther on is a line of stalls aimed at local trade, piled with alpaca scarves and caps for the cold weather to come, cheap jewelry, snacks and, although it is May (autumn in Chile), nativity scenes from Peru.

A bus takes me on a swirling ride around the hills, passing a sign for La Sebastiana, the house of the poet Pablo Neruda, which is now a museum. 

I visited the house on a previous trip, so I don’t get off. On that trip, I stopped only long enough to see La Sebastiana and to have a quick coffee at a famous café of the past, Café Riquet (now closed). One of its customers was the Chilean military dictator Augusto Pinochet, or so a taxi driver told me. Pinochet was born in Valparaiso.

This time, instead of rushing in and out, I have wandered for many hours. Walking to the bus stop, I pass a pet food shop with hungry mutts clustered outside, modest lunch rooms and a bakery where frosting flows over cakes like folds of fabric.

Near the Parque Italia, a tree-lined square, I see a lively stall that sells obleas colombianas, and I buy one for the trip home. The tissue-thin wafers (obleas) are put together with arequipa, which is luscious, soft, Colombian style milk caramel.  It is a sweet finish to an interesting day, and in only an hour and a half, I am back in Santiago.

Touring Valparaiso.

Tur-Bus goes every 15 minutes from Santiago to Valparaiso. Buses are comfortable and seats are reserved. The ticket office in Santiago is inside the Universidad de Santiago Metro terminal.  A round trip ticket costs about $8.

The O microbus will take you around the hills of Valparaiso, affording good views of the harbor if you sit on the right. Board this bus on Francia just past Colon, above Parque Italia.

Ascensor rides are 250 pesos each way. Go armed with a map, a guidebook and enough Spanish to ask directions.   

A Fun Place to Eat Fish

Going to Donde Augusto is like stepping into a carnival where raucous  barkers try to collar you for every sort of attraction.

This restaurant is in Santiago’s Mercado Central, which houses a lively fish market, an abundance of cafes, produce displays, spice sellers and much more.

The building alone is worth the trip for architecture buffs. They can inspect an airy wought iron superstructure that dates from the 19th century.

Inside, prospective customers face a barrage of invitations to buy. It would be nice to take home some of this glorious seafood—fresh scallops on the half shell, mussels, oysters, clams and fish such as corvina and dorado. But we kitchenless travelers can only admire, then head for one of the cafes to eat our fill.

Donde Augusto is the best known and most touristy, but I always eat there, because it has a balcony, from which I can look down on strolling musicians, families assembling at tables on the ground floor, waiters juggling trays of food, colorful heaps of fruits and vegetables, and a nonstop swirl of shoppers.

I always start with the same dish—locos with mayonnaise and potato salad. Locos are often confused with abalone, so it seems like a bargain when you get two thick, tender, sweet chunks of this pale shellfish for about $15.

However, locos are totally different. They are carnivores, whereas abalones are herbivores. Wild harvested deep off the coasts of Chile and Peru, where they cling to rocks and subsist on sea life, they consist of a single shell with tempting, delicious flesh.

Waiting for the locos, I have a pisco sour, the most popular drink in Chile as well as in Peru. The waiter, who is Chilean, confesses that he thinks pisco sours are tastier in Peru, but this one is good enough for me.

To accompany the cocktail, there are salty, flat,  glazed rolls called hallullas and fresh salsa, the pebre to which Chileans are addicted.

The locos plate is a good advertisement for Chilean produce as well as seafood.  The butter lettuce leaves are springy and super fresh. So is the tomato slice. And the potato salad is light and well made, dressed with the same intensely yellow mayonnaise as the locos.

When seafood is this good, I can’t stop at one dish, and so I order machas parmesana—razor clams on the half shell with creamy Parmesan topping. Twelve half shells seem a lot, but they are gone in a flash.

For dessert, I want something cool and refreshing, like helado de chirimoya—cherimoya ice cream. Marbled with orange sherbet, the ice cream is a good choice, and I spoon it up slowly so that I can spend a few more moments drinking in the vibrant scene below.

Donde Augusto, Mercado Central Local 66/166, Santiago, Chile. Tel: (56-2) 672-2829. To get there, take Line 2 of the Metro to Puente Cal y Canto. As you emerge from the terminal, you will face the large building that houses the Mercado.

 

Cazuela for the Soul

It is raining in Santiago, and I am coming down with a cold. What I need for dinner is chicken soup. And there is one restaurant that I am sure will have it.

So I head for Galindo, which is known for such typical Chilean dishes as cazuela, a hearty meat and vegetable soup.

Galindo is in Barrio Bellavista, a bohemian, trendy, touristy neighborhood. It is near my hotel, and I walk there despite the gusts of wind that make my umbrella useless.

Ah good, one of the dishes listed on the board outside is cazuela de ave—chicken soup.

Inside, the restaurant is crowded, but a table by the window is free, and it is a nice spot, where I can look out on lamp light flickering in the trees that line the dark street.

Everyone else is looking at me, or so I think until I discover that a soccer game is in full swing on the TV set over my head.

I order a pisco sour, because the lime juice in the drink should help get rid of the cold. The cazuela arrives in a brown pottery bowl. It is magnificent, a very fresh, tender chicken leg surrounded by chunks of corn, yellow squash, potato and rice in delicious broth. The long green strands over the top are green beans.

(Unfortunately, all this goodness doesn't come through in my photo. Perhaps the camera was not at its best  that night either.) 

The waiter provides a plate so that I can lift the chicken out and cut the meat from the bones more easily than in a sloshing soup bowl. I put the chunks back and stir in a spoonful of pebre, a zesty Chilean salsa, to make the soup even more flavorful.

All is well until I experience a breathless, choking sensation. It isn’t the cold but smoke drifting from the tables around me. Then I see a sign that says the room is a “zona de fumadores” (smoking zone).  When I ask to move to the no-smoking section, I learn there is none. The entire restaurant is a tobacco zone.

Except for the unwelcome fumes, I’ve had a good dinner, though. And I walk out into the cool, fresh, rain-washed night air, smoke-free and feeling much better.

Galindo, Dardinac 098, Barrio Bellavista, Santiago, Chile. Tel: (56-2) 777-0116.

Coffee and Kuchen in Chile

A fascinating part of Chile’s history is the arrival of German settlers in the second half of the 19th century.

They came at the invitation of the Chilean government and settled in the far south, which then became a center of German culture

The newcomers introduced beer, sausages, breads and delicious pastries, one of which met with such wide acceptance that it crossed over into Chilean cuisine.

Kuchen (cake) is the only German food word that has been adopted without alteration by Chileans. You don’t have to seek out German restaurants or go south to find it. Cafes anywhere may have it, just as scones and Danish turn up at coffee shops in the United States.

The most common is apple kuchen, topped with a lattice crust, a glaze or migas, a crumb mixture similar to streusel.

When I walked into Café El Observatorio in Santiago one morning, I found on the menu “kuchen de manzanas con miga streusel” (apple cake topped with crumbs), identified as a “receta alemana” (German recipe).

A slice with coffee was perfect for a mid-morning break, just as German housewives might have served it. Juicy diced apples with a scattering of raisins sat on a tender crust under a layer of sugary crumbs, not the nut streusel that is common in the United States.

Interestingly, Barrio Lastarria, where Café El Observatorio is located, dates its earliest construction to about the same time the Germans set sail for Chile.

Quietly bohemian and seriously cultural, the barrio is populated with artisan shops, fashion boutiques,  antiquarian bookstores, interesting restaurants, cafes, bars and the like.

Café El Observatorio occupies a corner of a century-old house that functions as a cultural center.  It  is peaceful to sit there overlooking the tree-lined main street, Jose Victorino Lastarria, which was named for a 19th center intellectual, revolutionary and political figure.

The café also has a nut kuchen with caramel that I haven't yet tasted, so I’ll be back for sure next trip.

Café El Observatorio, Villavicencio 395, corner Jose Victorino Lastarria. Tel: (56-2) 632-4588. Open 8:30 a.m. to 1 p.m. Monday through Friday; 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. Saturday and Sunday.

A Threat to Chile's Vineyards?

It's a sad and all too common story, prime agricultural land being sold for housing. And it’s happening to the vineyards around Vina Quebrada de Macul in Chile.

This winery produces Domus Aurea, an iconic, high-priced Cabernet Sauvignon destined primarily for export.

The winery is small, and the land around it is beautiful. The area is the Alto-Maipo Valley in the commune of Penalolen, far enough outside Santiago and high enough so that one can see the brown layer of pollution that clouds the city.

The terrain rises to a spectacular view of the Andes, snow-capped all year. No wonder people want to live here.

For now, at least, Vina Quebrada will retain its 26 hectares (about 64 acres) of vineyards, which yield the grapes for Domus and two other premium reds, Alba de Domus and Stella Aurea.

The only other wineries that remain in what is one of the oldest vineyard areas in Chile are Aquitania and Cousino Macul.

Forty years ago, the grandfather of  Ricardo Pena, the attorney who owns Vina Quebrada, bought the land from Cousino Macul, planted food crops and reverted to grapes when those did not do well. 

The winery building is small and not open for touring. “We put our money into wine, not into something to impress people,” says wine consultant Rodolphe Bourdeau, who offered to guide me through the property (he is at right in the photo above). And so there is no tasting room, no place to buy the wines. 

Before entering the winery, we look at the 16 hectares that are devoted to Cabernet Sauvignon. The vines, leaves turning yellow now, were planted in the early 1970s. The remaining 10 hectares include Merlot, Cabernet Franc, Petit Verdot and more Cabernet Sauvignon.

The soil is littered with stones washed down from the Andes. The roots of the vines go very deep so that little irrigation is needed, Bourdeau says. Despite the poor soil, the Cabernets from this area rank among Chile's finest.

Temperatures during harvest can be very cold at night, hot during the day. This year, the harvest was late and long, ending just two days before my visit well after the middle of May. Winery workers stand in clusters, relaxing for a moment now that the intense work of harvest and crush is over.

A vineyard block is divided into five areas that are divided again into thirds according to altitude. Even a slight rise in the land makes a difference, Bourdeau says. To me, the rise is barely perceptible.

We go inside to taste the makings of Domus from stainless steel tanks and French oak barrels.

“Many times when we bottle this wine, we are a little bit scared, but after one and a half  years in the bottle, it develops,” says Bourdeau. The wine maker is Jean-Pascal Lacaze.

One of the young Cabernets that I taste from a tank is impressive, beautiful.  Bourdeau calls it  “the soul of 2008.”  And he enthuses about the sensations  of black currants, mint, balsamic, eucalyptus and fresh and brilliant fruits.

It is so good that I wish we could pull up a table and sit down to a lunch of cheeses, bread and this wine, which will eventually go into a blend.

For Domus, Cabernet Sauvignon is blended with small amounts of other varietals. Depending upon the vintage, these could include Merlot, Cabernet Franc and Petit Verdot. "This place has a very strong personality. In a blind tasting, it is almost impossible not to recognize it,” Bourdeau says.

I’m not sure that I’ll ever taste Domus, because none of the wine shops in my vicinity have it, although there are distributors in the United States.

Internet prices range from $35 to $75, depending upon the vintage and the source. The price in Chile is around $80, Bourdeau says. (Fluctuating eschange rates determine the actual price.)

The latest release, 2006, consists of only 3,000 cases, less for Alba de Domus, and still less for Stella Aurea. And the company exports to 30 countries. Only 5 per cent remains in Chile.

A fourth label, Vina Penalolen is a smoother, easy-to-drink wine made from purchased grapes as well as those from the property. It is more widely available and moderately priced, around $15.

As soon as I return to Santiago I have to catch my flight home, so I can’t go to the shops where Bourdeau says I might find Domus. However, I do leave with a souvenir—two very small Andean stones that I found among the Cabernet vines—a much nicer memento than another T-shirt, engraved wine glass or logo bottle opener.

Where a President Once Ate

  Confiteria Torres in Santiago takes pride in the famous people who have eaten there. One of them was Ramon Barros Luco, president of Chile from 1910 to 1915. 

Barros Luco was so fond of a hot beef and cheese sandwich that he ordered it on every visit.  That sandwich is still on the menu, singled out so that tourists can’t miss it.

But I’ve overdosed on cheese in cafes and pizzerias in Buenos Aires, and I want something else.

The waiter says filete al cilantro is very good, and I choose that instead. The filete (steak) is marinated for 12 hours with cilantro, spices and olive oil. Then it is grilled and served with chopped cilantro on top and a rich brown sauce.

The meat is chewy and delicious. And I love the side dish, pastel de chuchoca.  More like a creamy soufflé than a cake (pastel), it has a warm, savory corn taste because it is made with chuchoca, cooked corn that has been dried and ground.

Pebre, that ubiquitous Chilean tomato salsa, is on the table, along with  tender little yellow rolls (sopaipillas) made with squash.

The businessmen lunching around me are drinking pisco sours, but I ask for a glass of 2006 Carmenere from Vina Ventisquero.

The waiter suggests that I go downstairs to see the private dining area next to the wine cave. The design is modern and minimalist, but the charm of Confiteria Torres is its age and history. Opened in 1879, it became a gathering spot for high society, intellectuals, artists, politicos, musicians and writers , including Chile’s illustrious poet, Pablo Neruda.

The confiteria was named for Jose Domingo Torres, who cooked for an aristocratic family in Santiago. So great was the demand for his skills that the family established this business for him.

The confiteria moved from its original location in the early 20th century. As the neighborhood declined, business fell off, and in 2002, it was closed.  Then a new owner took over and refurbished the premises.

Today the confiteria is a mix of old and new. The rococo pink façade is antique. The old oak bar remains. And the menu offers traditional Chilean dishes. Filete al cilantro is one of them.

After the steak, I order huevos chimbos, “the most famous of old Chilean desserts," the menu says.

It is a charming dish of light, eggy, yellow cakes studded with almonds and placed in clear syrup along with a mound of whipped cream.

The perfect finish is a bracing café cortado—strong coffee foamy with milk, and a nice change from Nescafe, which has long been the coffee of choice in Chile. 

Confiteria Torres, Avenida Libertador Bernardo O’Higgins 1570, Santiago, Chile. (This broad street is also known as the Alameda.) Tel:  (56-2) 688-0751. Open Monday through Saturday "all day,"  according to the restaurant’s card.

Deja Vu at Liguria in Santiago

I feel a twinge of familiarity as I walk into Liguria in Santiago.  And a little confusion.

I left Buenos Aires less than two days before, but I seem to be there again. Carlos Gardel is singing tango. And the bar looks like any respectable café in Buenos Aires, comfortable, convivial, a bit antique.

Opening off the bar is a dining room decorated with vintage signs. A wildly-colored mural covers the wall at one end of the room. At the bottom, a sign says “tangos, cuecas.” And the tango beat goes on.

The menu offers dishes that are common in Buenos Aires (grilled meats, provoleta), but also  traditional Chilean food, and I order arrollado huaso, a pork roll named for the Chilean cowboy.

This is certainly cowboy fare, meaty and heavy. The marinated pork has been rolled tightly, wrapped in pigskin and simmered in water and wine. It comes with delicious fried potatoes sprinkled with merquen, a hot red pepper seasoning from southern Chile.

My companion has beef cazuela, which is just as hearty. The large bowl contains a dense chunk of beef along with a whole potato, corn cob chunks,  squash, green beans and rice, submerged in broth. A large, pale chile stretches across the top.

The red-checked tablecloths and rustic setting seem just right for dishes like these.

Neither one of us can finish, because we started with a platter of melted goat cheese and arugula that was too good not to finish. Chilean goat cheese is mild, mellow and creamy, not strong like the goat cheeses I am accustomed to at home.

Our bread basket includes golden sopaipaillas, made with pumpkin. In Chile these are eaten along with meals or as a dessert, with syrup.

The wine we select is El Bosque Winemaker’s Choice Cabernet Sauvignon 2005 from Vina Casablanca. I like the label, which shows a tree bent by the wind.

Unwisely, we order two desserts. One is  leche asada, a custard baked in caramel.  It has been cut in a square and topped with an orange slice, which imparts a lovely, delicate flavor.

I eat so much that I can’t manage more than a forkful of a luscious tres leches cake, billowing with meringue. Only a huaso-style  appetite could have handled that.   

Liguria Bar-Restaurant, Providencia 1373, Santiago, Chile. Tel: (56-2) 235-7914.