When I was just five years old, my family immigrated to Los Angeles from Buenos Aires, and like many Argentine immigrants, with us came our love for a good empanada and fútbol y asado on Sundays.
For my brother and me, growing up felt like we still lived in Argentina at home and as soon as we stepped out the door and kissed our parents goodbye, we were in the U.S. We spoke Castellano at home, drank yerba mate in the morning and listened to Argentine folklore music after school. Not to mention all the moments we spent catching up around the dinner table, trying to finish off the churrasco and vegetables our mom made us, so we could have our favorite treat: a chocolate alfajor with dulce de leche.
Our parents made sure we grew up knowing where we came from and were proud of it. They told us about the great influence Spanish and Italian immigrants had on Argentine food. All of the bodegones or small shops in Buenos Aires they’d visit often to have some fresh gnocchis. But also just how culturally diverse the country was, with many families originally from countries like Germany, Russia, and Japan.