People who read books about parenting might attribute the character of my youngest child to the effect of birth order. Third children, the books say, can be stubborn. I don't read books on parenting — at least not since I heard myself tell my kids I couldn't play Candyland until I finished the chapter on "Making Time for Toddlers." But even if I did, I'd still attribute my youngest's goat-headed nature to my diet during his gestation. When I was pregnant with No. 3, I ate mostly steak sandwiches topped with bacon and fried eggs and drizzled with chimichurri.
If you're wondering, I threw away my pre-pregnancy jeans. You don't bounce back from a nine-month bender like that.
I blame Alexia Humphrey. Back then, she was the owner of Nola's on West End Avenue, where she offered an eclectic medley of recipes from New Orleans and South America, most notably a decadent pile-on of steak, egg, bacon and chimichurri on a baguette. That sandwich, known as a chivito, became my nightly craving.
By the time I gave birth to my third child, he was basically a 6-pound chivito, which translates to "little goat." His adorable stubbornness is no surprise.
Talk about postpartum blues: Not long after my own little goat arrived, Humphrey closed Nola's and returned to her home in Uruguay, taking her chivito with her.
Now she's back. These days, Humphrey serves her Uruguayan-Argentine-Cajun fare under the banner of Tango Grill, tucked in a tiny retail strip off Harding Place.
After catching up with Humphrey and her now-grown son Kendrick Kronthal, we joyously reunited with the chivito. As it turns out, it's not pregnancy that makes a person crave the Uruguayan national sandwich. No, it is the exceptional layering of marinated steak, Swiss cheese, bacon, mayonnaise, sautéed peppers, mushrooms and onions, and fried egg on a crusty baguette that makes this meal linger in the recesses of the hungry mind.
If you're thinking about trying this recipe at home, take two details into consideration: First, the side of chimichurri — minced parsley, garlic, olive oil, white pepper, coriander and red pepper — cuts through the grease with an herbal brightness that makes the sandwich. Second, Humphrey taught the owner of the adjacent panaderia how to make the perfect light and crusty baguette to swaddle all the grilled riches.
If a history of too many chivitos has moved you toward a more Paleo-style diet, Humphrey's ready for you, with a shared platter laden with chivito ingredients, minus the baguette, plus ham, potato-pea-carrot-mayonnaise salad and olives.
There's also the protein-rich parrillada (pronounced Argentine-style: parrishada). The jumbo cutting board overflows with plump grilled sirloin steak, chorizo, blood sausage, beef short rib and pork ribs marinated in lemon and herbs. (Humphrey's sister Valeria Cobb, who helps out in the store, suggested we substitute a second link of chorizo for the blood sausage, if we didn't love the iron taste of liver. We gratefully accepted the advice.)
The parrillada is billed as a two-person meal, but we found it worked well as a shared centerpiece for a table of five, when supplemented by a few other items. Some favorites included fried catfish on the excellent baguette, topped with lettuce and tomato; New Orleans-style barbecued shrimp in a buttery wine bath tinged with mustard and garlic; and flaky, piping-hot empanadas served with a bright Creole sauce of chopped tomato, green pepper, onion, cumin, vinegar and white pepper. (We sampled beef and fish empanadas and preferred the former, as the minced fish reminded us of deep-fried canned tuna.)
"We love eggs," Humphrey said, referring both to the utterly over-the-top addition of fried egg to the chivito and to shakshuka, a Middle Eastern dish of eggs poached in tomato stew and served over grilled bread. (Ah, is there nothing that an exquisite baguette can't do?)
Among so many carnivorous South American offerings, we would have been surprised to find a section of pastas, if Humphrey hadn't already educated us about the role of pasta in her native cuisine, back in the days of Nola's. Between the World Wars, many Europeans migrated to South America, bringing their tastes with them. At Tango, that nostalgia manifests as linguine and cheese ravioli, served with choice of Bolognese-style meat sauce, vegetarian tomato sauce or cream sauce with peppers, onions and mushrooms. A highlight of our visits was a bowl of plump shrimp and pillowy ravioli topped with pink tomato-cream sauce laced with garlic and fresh herbs.
In terms of ambiance and decor, Tango Grill doesn't look like much. The clean and sunlit front room boasts little more than a couple of flags and some funny chicken dolls made of dried gourds. But Tango offers as much character and flavor as you're likely to find anywhere in town. There's pool and foosball tables in the back room; from time to time, there are free tango demonstrations; and on the 29th of every month, Humphrey hosts a gnocchi dinner, in the tradition of so many Italian immigrants in South America, who stretched their salaries to the end of the month by dining on potato pasta. Above all, there is Humphrey herself, who infuses the rooms with the kind of warmth you don't get from wall hangings and pendant lights. Whether she's stopping by the table to demonstrate how a dried gourd and silver straw are used to serve the bitter infusion of yerba mate, or to share her experience catering lunches for pre-K students with autism, Humphrey is a whirlwind of positive energy, equally eager to share her own culinary traditions and to engage in the life of her adopted hometown.
Tango Grill opens at 10 a.m. daily.
Email arts@nashvillescene.com.
