Argentine Assorted Meats and American BBQ

A carnivore's plumage

A carnivore /ˈkɑrnɪvɔər/ meaning 'meat eater' (Latin, caro meaning 'meat' or 'flesh' and vorare meaning 'to devour') is an organism that derives its energy and nutrient requirements from a diet consisting mainly or exclusively of animal tissue, whether through predation or scavenging. Animals that depend solely on animal flesh for their nutrient requirements are considered obligate carnivores while those that also consume non-animal food are considered facultative carnivores. Omnivores also consume both animal and non-animal food, and apart from the more general definition, there is no clearly defined ratio of plant to animal material that would distinguish a facultative carnivore from an omnivore. A carnivore that sits at the top of the food chain is an apex predator. [from: Wikipedia]
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Tucuman City meat market

You can't miss the Argentinian love for good tasting meat. My first meal in Buenos Aires back in 2010 was a Pampus-fed beef steak. I didn't see any butcher shops that first time, but during the second trip in 2011 when walking to a restaurant from our hotel in Tucuman City, we went by the one shown to the left. Many restaurants don't open until 7:00 PM, and the general nightlife on the streets picks up late into the evening.

North American preparations

When it came to meats, there is not a lot different for me considering my family's ranch operations in California. We always had a freezer-full of meat prepared by a butcher at a locker facility in our town: beef and pork. Funny thing was: I had no idea of where on the animal the meat in the white or brown-wrapped packages stacked in the freezer came from on the animal. It wasn't until I took an introductory zoology class and was dissecting some creature, that it all came together where the meat came from on the animal - pretty pathetic.

During the second trip to Uruguay and Argentina, I made a point to record the different preparations of meat I ordered at various restaurants.

A sampling of Argentina meat preparations

The commonality of BBQ's is obvious - one grill seems to be like any other grill, whether in the New World Southern or Northern Hemispheres. What distinguishes them, the source and the quality of the meat. Argentina is know for its grass-fed beef, produced from cattle roaming the pampas and herded by gauchos. Much the equivalent of pasture and rangeland grazing in the United States.

Buenos Aires restaurant grill

Patio grill in Fort Collins, Colorado

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Brand Inspectors Ride California Range in Search for Stolen Cattle

March 01, 1987 | JAN HAAG | United Press International

SACRAMENTO — Sit for a spell and chat with Jay Phebus about brands. The former cowboy talks lovingly about brands a hundred years old that are still being burned into the flanks of cattle, about the days of cowboys and cattle ranches that spread herds over thousands of acres. He'll talk about nights spent under the open sky and a way of life that is slowly disappearing as ranches are eaten up by developments that spit out houses like old chewing tobacco. "They're ruinin' good cattle country," Phebus recalls one of his old ranch bosses telling him. "Too many cities springin' up. Not enough ranches."

As the number of ranches shrinks, so does the number of brands. In 1980, there were about 35,000 brands registered with the livestock identification unit of the state Department of Food and Agriculture. Today, there are 28,000. But Phebus, the keeper of the brands in California, and dozens of state livestock inspectors do their part to keep a bit of the Old West alive. He presides over all the lazy J's, the rocking A's, the broken hearts, the spades, anchors and crescents that are branded into livestock all over the state. "Brands are the only protection the cattlemen have," Phebus says, sitting in his Sacramento office that has a wall lined with old branding irons. "All the brands are registered with us, so when a rancher loses cattle, we can help him trace them."

Those who think brands went out with cattle rustling have not met Phebus and his Sherlock Holmeses of the range--the brand inspectors. The inspectors, mostly retired cowboys like Phebus, check all cattle, horses, sheep, mules and burros whenever they're sold or moved. A big part of their duties involves finding lost or stolen cattle. Cattle rustling, it seems, did not die with the Old West.

"You see more of that than ever before," Phebus figures. "It's just more modern--with trucks you can steal whole herds easily." But hiding stolen cattle is not so easy, especially when a cattleman's brand--the only permanent symbol of ownership--is stamped into a cow's hip, rib or shoulder.

"We find 'em," Phebus says proudly. In 1985, for example, of the 2,221 cattle reported lost or stolen, more than 1,000 were returned. He also notes that his agency is totally self-supporting. Funded by brand registration and inspection fees, it is financed by the cattlemen and livestock owners it protects.

The state took over responsibility for livestock identification in 1917. Phebus, who tells tales of brands blended with stories of the open range, has a copy of the first state brand registration book, printed in 1919. It's less than an inch thick. The latest brand book of 1983 is close to three inches thick.

The early registration books also have lots of duplicate brands. Duplicate brands are still allowed, but they have to be registered on different parts of an animal, Phebus says. There are six places on an animal where it can be branded--the left or right shoulder, hip or rib. "You can have three owners who each have a rocking J," Phebus says, drawing the letter over a half circle, "but they have to be say, on the right shoulder, the left hip and the right rib."

Brands are read from top to bottom, left to right, from the outside to inside. A "slash A" brand, for example, is just what it sounds like--a slash mark next to the letter "A." A half circle over a letter is called a crescent, a rainbow or an eyebrow. A letter on its side is always lazy. A letter that leans is described as tumbling, leaning or sleeping. "You used to tell a cowboy by his hat, boots, saddle and how he pronounced his brands," says Phebus, a former "buckaroo" from Nevada. "We don't care what a rancher wants to call it, just so we can easily describe it."

Brands sometimes are rejected by the agency for that very reason. "Some of the old Spanish brands are beautiful, but you can't describe them by phone if you're looking for a lost animal," Phebus explains.

He recalls the rancher who wanted an intricate design of grapes for his brand. "It would've just been a big blob," he says. "We turn those down. My job is to suggest a brand that will work--that can be easily branded into an animal and is big enough to see." A brand should be so obvious that "a fella from New York who's never seen a cow, let alone a brand, can tell what it is," Phebus says.

He admits that people who think branding is cruel have suggested alternatives, but none are permanent. Ear tags are easily removed and tattooing is hard to read from a distance. "I don't know if anyone can come up with a better idea," Phebus says. "I think that old brand on the hide is here to stay."