The Argentine way: Chimichurri adds twist to grilling meats, vegetables

Come springtime, I'm ready to throw just about anything on the grill. I'm done with steaming pots of soup and roasted winter veggies from the oven. I'm ready to head outside and fire up the grill glass of wine in hand to savor the aromas of searing food and enjoy the weather.

Hence, my quandary. I tend to get into a grilling rut. It's either a Mexican-inspired lime-juice-and-garlic marinade or an Asian-inspired soy, ginger and garlic marinade. Both delicious, to be sure, but both in need of some good company to round out my repertoire.

Enter chimichurri sauce, an Argentine darling and a staple with grilled meats. With its widespread grasslands — or pampas — Argentina has embraced beef as a mainstay of its diet for centuries. In the 19th century, beef consumption in Argentina has been estimated at a whopping 396 pounds per person. The present-day number is more like 140 pounds per person, compared with U.S. per capita beef consumption of about 95 pounds per year.

Argentines know their grilled meat and how to make it tasty.

Numerous folktales seek to explain the origin and name of chimichurri (chim-ee-CHOOR-ee). One legend says that in the mid-19th century, British businessman Jimmy Curry arrived in Argentina interested in importing beef back to England. In an attempt to impress him, the locals prepared a feast of grilled meats. Curry was mesmerized by the smell of the cooking meat and asked what a proper condiment might be. When the locals replied that the meat was served with only a bit of salt, Curry prepared the sauce as a gesture of goodwill, and it came to bear a tongue-twisted version of his name.

Another legend attributes the sauce's origins to one Jimmy McCurry, an Irish soldier sympathetic to the fight for Argentine independence in the 19th century. There are other stories, most of them variations on words that can be mispronounced to sound a little bit like "chimichurri."

Whatever its etymological origins, the basic recipe contains olive oil, red wine vinegar, dried oregano, red pepper flakes and loads of freshly chopped parsley and garlic. The result is a zesty, lusty combination with a bite that stimulates an instantaneous addiction akin to the perfect Mexican salsa. In other words, that perfect pairing of spice and acidity.

Here's where creativity comes in. The sauce is great in its original form. But, like any traditional food, variations are as commonplace as cooks in the kitchen. Different versions add finely chopped onion, tomato or a generous spoonful of pimentón (Spanish smoky paprika). Others substitute lemon juice for vinegar, or shallots for garlic.

I learned to make the chimichurri and grilled sausages described below from an Argentine classmate with whom I have long lost touch. I'd nearly forgotten about the recipe until recently. Since then, I've been fiddling with the sauce in a variety of dishes.

Though the sauce is delicious as a marinade and accompaniment to grilled meats and fish, it can pull double duty with vegetables and grains. I have found it especially useful to take advantage of the season's bounty from my weekly farm basket. Starting in the spring, it is a perfect foil for the strong flavors of greens such as mustard, chard, broccoli rabe or collards. I lightly sauté thinly sliced greens, toss in a handful of dried cherries or craisins and drizzle the dish with the zesty chimichurri. Or I serve the sautéed greens Italian style with dried currants and toasted pine nuts.

As spring turns to summer, a grilled eggplant salad (recipe below) layered with heaps of chopped parsley will be sure to please. Substitute a chiffonade of fresh basil when available in abundance. Use chimichurri to dress a barley and vegetable salad that can adapt to the seasons. If barley isn't your thing, use equal amounts of quinoa, cous-cous, bulghur or rice.

So start the grilling season with a new twist from south of the border. Way south.

Basic Chimichurri Sauce

6 Tbsp. red wine vinegar

1/4 cup water

2 Tbsp. minced garlic (about 8 cloves)

1 bay leaf, broken in half

1 1/2 tsp. salt

1/2 to 1 tsp. dried hot red pepper flakes

1 tsp. dried oregano

1 tsp. coarsely ground black pepper