About Miga

Here in Argentina, one comes by miga like ants on your rose-bush, or cockroaches in your bathroom. Often, and unfortunately. Technically speaking, miga is a crumb, or the soft center of bread. The part that grosses some kids out and spins others into a hysterical rage, and that still others (uninformed) prefer.

Figuratively however, we can say it’s “substance”: the essence, core, basis of a matter; less formally, the nitty-gritty.

The miga sandwich is a pillar of quotidian Argentine cuisine.  Take two pieces of un-toasted white bread, cut off the crust and put ham & cheese in the middle.  You can layer it if you like. And slap on butter. Which, splooging out the sides, looks like mayo. Or could be. Take your chances.

The traditional version and the many variants on the theme constitute a good portion of the offerings of the majority of local delis, bakeries, bars and restaurants.  Variants include cheese & tomato, ham & tomato, ham & cheese & tomato, ham & corn, ham & egg, some but not all of these versions toasted.  Rest assured, there are 11 more pages of permutations and combinations on any menu worthy of your pesos. This should tell you a lot about what’s going on down here.

As you thus see (or don’t, but are being told in a self-assured manner — another cultural trademark to be discussed in subsequent posts which I am trying to employ more frequently), miga is synonymous with daily survival in this great land of nitty-gritty and here I share with you my attempts (unanimously unsuccessful) at such.   While I will never pass for Argentine, I have acquired quite an substantive education in what it means to try to do things here, and so I encourage you to follow the trail of miga I’ve left behind.