What Is Argentine Asado? Fire, Meat and the Ritual of Bringing People Together

I cooked my first asados when I was about fourteen. I would invite friends to my house, light the fire and take responsibility for feeding everyone.

In Argentina, this did not make me particularly unusual.

My father had been teaching me how to cook over fire since I was a child. Not through written recipes or exact temperatures, but by showing me how to build the embers, when to move them, where each cut should sit and, most importantly, when to leave the meat alone.

Traditionally, in many Argentine families, the men cooked the asado while the women prepared the salads and desserts. There have always been women asadoras, and this is changing, but that was the division I grew up with.

The asador occupied a special position. Everyone depended on him, so he was respected and looked after. Somebody made sure he had a glass of wine. People gathered around the parrilla to keep him company, talk and watch the fire.

But one rule was understood: you did not tell the asador how to cook. You did not move the meat, touch the fire or offer advice unless he asked for help. Once someone accepted responsibility for the asado, the parrilla was his territory.

At the end came the familiar phrase:

Un aplauso para el asador.

A round of applause for the person who had managed the fire and fed the table.

My father was my first teacher, but another important figure was my uncle Hugo. He organised much larger asados at his home in La Plata. His setup was more rustic and serious: a large parrilla with V-shaped bars, one or two helpers, and the embers prepared directly on the ground before being spread slowly beneath the grills.

These were not steaks cooked quickly over a fierce flame. They were large pieces of meat cooking gently for hours. The fire was low, the gathering was big and nobody expected the food to arrive quickly.

By the time I started making my own asados, I already understood that the asador was not simply the person holding the tongs. He was responsible for the rhythm of the entire gathering.

What does “asado” actually mean?

“Argentine barbecue” is the closest convenient translation, but it is not quite right.

A barbecue can be something you cook. An asado is the food, the method of cooking and the gathering itself.

When an Argentine says, “We’re having an asado on Sunday,” it does not simply mean that meat will be placed on a grill. It means people are coming over. Somebody will start the fire early. Chorizos, morcilla and other small things may arrive first. The larger cuts will be served when they are ready, not according to an advertised time.

People will stand around the parrilla, drink wine, talk and wait until the asador decides that each cut is ready.

An asado can be intimate, with five or six people in a garden. It can also feed hundreds, as I once saw in Uribelarrea, where whole pieces of beef were cooked with the hide still attached. That asado was surrounded by folklore, horses, the traditional sortija game, zamba and chacarera.

The scale changes. The equipment changes. The central idea does not.

Somebody takes responsibility for the fire, and everybody else gathers around it.

Asado versus barbecue: what is the difference?

When I was living in Peru, I was studying a postgraduate specialisation in psychology with another Argentine friend. Our Peruvian friends kept asking us:

“You are Argentinians. When are you going to make us an asado?”

Eventually, we found the closest cuts we could and invited everyone over.

What surprised them most was what we did not do.

We did not marinate the beef. We did not cover it with spices, inject it with flavour or use anything to make it more tender. They looked at the meat and asked when we were going to prepare it.

But it was already prepared.

In Argentina, we have a simple rule: do not disturb the meat.

For most beef cuts, salt is enough. Chimichurri and salsa criolla can be added at the table, after cooking. Sometimes I use a light salmuera with herbs such as rosemary or bay leaf, particularly on certain larger cuts, but the purpose is never to hide the flavour of the beef.

The meat should still taste like meat.

That is one important difference between an asado and what is commonly called a barbecue in Britain or the United States. Another is the equipment.

Many garden barbecues are designed for small cuts cooked directly over high heat: burgers, sausages, chicken pieces and steaks that can be turned and served quickly. The classic round kettle barbecue—what I think of as the Homer Simpson barbecue—can be useful, but it does not offer the same control as a traditional Argentine parrilla.

An Argentine parrilla is built around controlling distance, temperature and time. The grill can often be raised or lowered, and the asador can distribute the embers to create different cooking areas. More heat here. Less heat there. Fresh embers added gradually as the cooking continues.

This makes it possible to cook a thin entraña quickly while a large vacío or tira de asado continues slowly at another temperature.

It also reflects a different relationship with the cuts themselves.

Argentine asado is not built only around naturally tender steaks such as fillet or ribeye. Cuts like vacío, tira de asado and entraña have more fibre, fat, bone and character. They demand more from the asador. You need to understand the direction of the grain, the strength of the embers and the moment when the meat is ready.

Cook them badly and they can be tough.

Cook them properly and, in my opinion, they have far more flavour than many expensive premium steaks.

That skill is part of the asado. The objective is not simply to place good meat over heat. It is to transform a difficult, flavourful cut through fire, patience and judgement.

What food is served at an Argentine asado?

The butcher matters

An asado begins before the fire is lit.

It begins at the butcher’s counter.

In Argentina, having a good butcher matters. You do not simply choose a packet of meat from a refrigerator. You explain what you are cooking, how many people are coming and how you want each piece cut. A butcher who knows you also learns your preferences: the thickness of your tira de asado, the size of your vacío and which pieces you will reject.

That relationship becomes even more important when preparing an Argentine asado in Britain.

British and Argentine butchers do not always divide the animal in the same way. A direct translation is often useless. Asking for “flank” does not guarantee that you will receive vacío, and asking for “skirt steak” does not necessarily produce the entraña an Argentine asador expects.

I built that relationship in London by visiting Smithfield Market for years. It is a fantastic place: a historic wholesale meat market in the middle of one of the world’s most modern cities.

There is even an old connection between Smithfield and Argentina: archive photographs from 1920 show that much of the meat displayed at the market had arrived from Argentina.

Over time, the traders began to understand what I was looking for. But even then, I often buy a much larger section of rib and flank and break it down myself.

From that section, depending on how it has been prepared, I can separate the outside skirt—the true entraña I want—remove the thin matambre, cut a substantial section of ribs and preserve the vacío as a complete piece.

The matambre is a good example of the problem. It is an important cut in Argentina, but in Britain it is rarely kept as an individual piece. It may simply disappear into mince or burger meat.

To reproduce an Argentine asado here, knowing the English names is not enough. Sometimes you need to understand where each muscle sits and recover the cuts yourself.

That knowledge is part of being an asador.

The first things served

The first item placed on the parrilla is not necessarily the first one eaten.

Large cuts such as vacío or tira de asado may begin cooking early and remain over gentle embers for hours. While they cook, the asador adds the smaller items that will be served first.

Chorizo is usually among them. It may be sliced and shared or placed inside bread with chimichurri to make a choripán.

In Argentina, most people buy chorizos from a butcher they trust. Making sausages at home is not normally part of preparing a family asado.

I make my own in London because I cannot find exactly the Argentine chorizo I want. Making them myself allows me to control the meat, fat, seasoning and texture. They cook properly on the parrilla and taste like an Argentine chorizo rather than a British sausage dressed up with chimichurri.

For many guests at my events, choripán is their first introduction to Argentine asado. It is simple, messy and difficult to eat elegantly. That is part of its charm.

Provoleta and achuras

Provoleta is a thick round of provolone-style cheese cooked until it develops a crust outside and becomes soft inside.

It requires good timing. Remove it too early and it has no colour. Leave it too long and it may disappear between the bars of the grill.

Then there are the achuras: morcilla, mollejas, riñones and chinchulines—blood sausage, sweetbreads, kidneys and intestines.

They are usually served before the principal cuts, although some of them may have been cooking for much longer.

Chinchulines are particularly difficult to find in Britain. I sometimes source them through African butchers because intestines are also used in several African cooking traditions. Lamb intestines are easier to find in some places, although their flavour is stronger than the beef chinchulines normally used in Argentina.

Achuras are not secondary products included merely because nothing should be wasted. For many Argentines, properly cooked mollejas or crisp chinchulines are among the most anticipated parts of the entire asado.

The main cuts

After the first plates come the main cuts.

If I had to reduce the Argentine parrilla to its essentials, I would begin with tira de asado, vacío and entraña.

Tira de asado is beef rib cut across the bones. It can be cut thick for slow cooking or thin, in the style known as banderita, for faster grilling.

Vacío is cooked as a larger piece, protected by its membrane and fat. It needs patience, but it develops a flavour and texture that a premium steak cannot reproduce.

Entraña is thinner and faster. It has a loose grain and an intense beef flavour, but it needs attention because a few minutes can make the difference between juicy and dry.

Bife de chorizo, ojo de bife, matambre, colita de cuadril, tapa de asado, pork ribs and other cuts can all have a place on the parrilla. Every family and every asador has preferences.

But an expensive steak does not automatically make a better asado.

The traditional cuts are interesting because they demand judgement. Some need hours over gentle embers. Others need stronger heat and a short cooking time. The asador must make them arrive in a sequence that feels natural, even though they did not begin cooking together.

A traditional asado is not one enormous mixed grill placed on the table at once.

It unfolds.

How I adapt an asado to the people around it

I am an asador, but my cooking is not limited to reproducing a traditional parrilla exactly as it might have been done fifty years ago.

I specialise in modern Argentine food.

I respect the traditions because they are where I come from. At the same time, I am not afraid to use modern techniques or flavours I have learnt from other cuisines during my travels. Tradition should give the food an identity. It should not prevent it from changing.

The first thing I do when somebody asks me to prepare an asado is not choose the meat.

I try to understand the event.

Who are the guests? How formal is it? Is the fire supposed to be part of the experience, or does the organiser simply want the flavour of Argentine cooking? Will people be sitting at tables, walking around with drinks or dancing? How much time do we have?

The asado has to adapt to those answers.

When the fire remains behind the scenes

For some catering events, my presence is deliberately minimal. I work in the kitchen and adapt elements of the asado into finger food or dishes that are easier to serve.

Sometimes it is not possible to install a parrilla at the venue. In that situation, I may sear and smoke larger pieces over fire beforehand, then finish them carefully in the oven.

I would not pretend that this is exactly the same as standing around a parrilla for several hours. It is an adaptation. But it allows me to bring the smoke, cuts and flavours of Argentine cooking into a venue where a complete live-fire setup would be impossible.

The Argentine Experience

At the other end of the scale are the Argentine Experiences I host at my home in London.

These are usually intimate events for around twenty-five people. I have six different grills, a wood-fired clay oven and a metal cross for cooking ribs, pork or other large pieces beside the fire.

The meal works almost like a tasting menu.

Guests do not simply receive one large plate of meat. They follow a progression through different cuts and cooking methods. They can see the equipment, ask questions and learn why an entraña is treated differently from a vacío, or why a large piece cooked beside the fire develops a different flavour from meat placed directly above the embers.

Here, my role is very visible. I am cooking, but I am also explaining the cuts, the techniques and the culture that surrounds them.

The parrilla becomes part kitchen, part table and part conversation.

Birthdays and larger celebrations

An asado for thirty, fifty or one hundred people needs a different rhythm.

At these events, the parrilla can remain visible so that guests approach, watch the cooking and interact with the asador and assistants. Chorizos may be collected directly from the grill, while Argentine salads are arranged on a separate table.

Sometimes the timing or number of guests makes sandwiches the most sensible choice. A choripán works naturally in this format. For a steak sandwich, I often use beef fillet because tenderness matters: guests should be able to eat it comfortably without fighting the meat or needing a knife and fork.

For more formal events, I reduce the number of cuts and concentrate on presenting each one properly. The parrilla may operate in a separate area while the food is carried to seated guests in the dining space.

I recently used this format at a tango event. The dancing and the restaurant occupied one part of the venue, while the parrilla worked in another. The guests could still feel the presence of the asado, but the service fitted naturally around the evening rather than interrupting it.

There is no single correct format.

The essential question is whether the fire, food and service belong to the occasion. Sometimes the asador should be at the centre of the event. Sometimes he should almost disappear.

Knowing the difference is part of the job.

An Argentine asado in London

When I prepare an asado in London, I am not trying to create a museum piece or reproduce an imaginary perfect version of Argentina.

The weather is different. The butchers divide the animal differently. Every venue has its limitations, and every group of guests wants something different.

My job is to understand those conditions without losing the identity of the food.

Sometimes that means six grills, a clay oven and a full tasting journey through Argentine cuts. Sometimes it means a visible parrilla at the centre of a birthday celebration. Sometimes the fire remains behind the scenes and appears in the smoke and flavour of a small piece of food.

All of those formats can carry something of the asado.

If you are organising an event and would like to explore what might work, get in touch. You do not need to have the menu or format decided before speaking to us. Understanding the occasion is where my work begins.

And you are equally welcome to contact me if you simply have a question about an Argentine cut, the parrilla or how to find the right meat in Britain. Not every conversation needs to become a booking. I am always happy to talk about Argentine food and fire.

If you disagree with something I have written, you can contact me about that too.

Argentines have been arguing about asado for generations. There is no reason to stop now.