South America

The Best Anti-Nazi Themed Cocktails
Created by Bartenders against Nazi’s, inspired by neo-fascist Richard B. Spencer getting punched in the face

I was Kidnapped and Held for Ransom in Peru, Part 1
Guest Post by Robert Louthan. All photos by the author. Ecuador proved to be a very special country. The beautiful landscapes and friendly culture made it a hard place to walk away from, which is why I may have overstayed my three-month visa by just a little bit. I did

Why Everyone Should Work in a Restaurant
Everyone should work in a restaurant at least once. Ask any server, bartender, barista, cook, dishwasher, buser, greeter, and they’ll agree. It’s a conversation I often have with other people in the restaurant industry. This conversation is half bitching about customers (sorry not sorry) and half enumerating all the ways that working in a restaurant makes you a better person.

Organ Grind: A South American Food Journal Part 9, Guts and Glory in Salta, Argentina
The Argentinian food scene, which I had found fairly monotonous heretofore, is improved markedly the closer your proximity to Bolivia and Peru. The most remarkable city of that region is Salta, a frenetic, dirty pearl dropped into the psychedelic northwestern desert. The eyes are more native brown than European hazel

Organ Grind: A South American Food Journal Part 6, Arequipa’s Frontlawn Restaurant
Clockwise from left: heart, corn, rocoto The flower of Peru’s glory is at its highest peak of florid magnificence when the traveler steps outside the bounds of urban settlements. This can be difficult at times; the central yolk of most Peruvian cities is broken here and there and allowed to
To Live and Die in BA: part 2
January 15, 2007 To Live and Die in BA: part 2 Buenos Aires is a city of too many sunrises. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that in just a few weeks here I’ve seen the sun rise at least twice as many times as the rest of
To Live and Die in BA:part 1
December 26, 2006 To Live and Die in BA…part 1 I slid into the center of Buenos Aires at roughly 4am on a Friday, ready to crash out at the hostel that I’d booked while in Cuzco. At the airport I’d met Noah from the Bay Area, who happened to
No Gracias
December 15, 2006 No Gracias “No Gracias,” becomes a sort of mantra as you wander Cuzco’s beautiful cobblestone streets, navigating through finger-puppet selling five year olds and elderly women slanging everything from bracelets to toothbrushes. These things you take in stride because you’re in Peru and you understand that people