Besides traveling for food, I also get inspiration for home cooking from my travels.
Though I did not find chimichurri in South America, but on a Lufthansa flight in Europe.
Here comes the surprise: chimichurri isn’t necessarily Argentinian after all, but most likely has European roots, more precisely, Basque.
This article includes a recipe for homemade chimichurri.
Recipe in Finnish / Juttu resepteineen suomeksi Mausta.net-blogissa
What is Chimichurri?
I recently asked on my foodie account on Instagram and in my newsletter whether you’d prefer more exotic travel recipes or quick weekday meals ready in 15 minutes.
The answer? Both! One person wished for both spice and speed, while another said they wouldn’t mind if even the most delicious meals came together in a flash.
Chimichurri ticks all those boxes.
It’s quick and easy to make, yet it brings an exotic twist and punchy flavors to even the simplest dishes.
Chimichurri is a raw sauce typically served with grilled meats or vegetables, though it works beautifully with many other dishes, too.
Here, raw doesn’t mean fiery—it just means uncooked. The flavor is quite mellow and herbaceous, even pesto-like.
Where Did Chimichurri Come From?
Maybe from Argentina—but in my case, it came from a Lufthansa flight.
Airplane food doesn’t usually get rave reviews, but on my flight from Frankfurt to Helsinki, I had a sandwich with a sauce so good I had to recreate it as soon as I got home.
Lufthansa had paired their chimichurri with chicken, so that’s what we tried it with first, too.
Chimichurri is considered either an Argentine or Uruguayan sauce, and from that corner of the world, it has spread across South America.
Who invented it? No one knows for sure.
It could be Quechua or cowboys in the Argentine pampas flavoring their meat with available herbs and oils. Others believe it was European immigrants adapting their recipes to the new world.
Its origin, or at least its name, might actually be European. If you ask the Irish, they are pretty sure it’s their recipe, but the name suggests a Basque origin.
The word chimichurri likely comes from the Basque word tximitxurri, which loosely means a mix or hodgepodge (and is pronounced similarly).
So it’s quite possible that Basques who moved to Argentina in the 1800s invented the whole sauce—or at the very least, named it.
But surely it was Argentinians who made it famous. Or was it Uruguayans?
Either way, it’s delicious!
And certainly, it’s a blend of flavors and cultures.
Herbs Are a Must—Cilantro Isn’t
I mentally dissected that airline sandwich to figure out what made the sauce so good. The key was the herbal flavor—flat-leaf parsley is essential.
Lufthansa’s version probably didn’t contain the famously divisive cilantro, but I wanted to include it for a broader flavor profile.
Not least because, for some strange reason, cilantro is weirdly hard to find in Belgrade.
What a coincidence; while writing this, Facebook pinged a notification: someone liked an old post I’d written in a Belgrade expat group. In it, I’d tipped people off to a local herb vendor with rare cilantro!
If you’re one of those people who think cilantro tastes like soap, feel free to skip it. It’s not included in many so-called “authentic” chimichurri recipes anyway.
(FYI: By the time I originally wrote this post in Finnish, I was still living in Belgrade, but visiting my home and hubby in Finland.)
The Ultimate Leftover-Fighter
Chimichurri is one of those recipes that supposedly has “authentic” versions—each person’s recipe being the one true original, of course.
And while I usually prefer to stick to original recipes when it comes to classic dishes, chimichurri is different from the get-go.
Even the name suggests it’s a mishmash—something made with whatever you have on hand.
You just chop it up and mix it together.
That whole philosophy appeals to me in cooking. Use what you’ve got in your fridge or pantry, based on the season or leftovers from yesterday’s meal. It’s a great way to reduce food waste.
There’s no point buying a whole jar of spice just to use a teaspoon of it. Swap it for something else—or just leave it out entirely. Recipes don’t need to be followed religiously.
And if you end up modifying the ingredients, I can pretty much guarantee that your version already exists somewhere in the world.
Have I ever confessed this?
I’ve owned a mountain of cookbooks over the years, but rarely follow the recipes. I mostly use the photos as inspiration for my experiments. These days, Pinterest does the same job.
(You can sneak a peek at my saved Pinterest inspiration here.)
So yes, be creative in the kitchen. If something doesn’t work, you don’t have to make it again. Taste is personal, after all.
Still, let me share two versions of chimichurri we’ve made, so you don’t end up chopping everything from beets to asparagus into yours.
Let’s start with the basics.
Ingredients & Preparation
Chimichurri is similar to pesto, but instead of basil, the star is flat-leaf parsley.
Other essentials include red wine vinegar, olive oil, garlic, and pretty much any fresh herbs.
It’s quick to prepare—chopping is the only thing that takes time.
1.
Chimichurri Ingredients
- 1 bunch fresh flat-leaf parsley
- ½ bunch fresh cilantro
- 100 ml (about ⅓ cup + 1 tbsp) olive oil
- 50 ml (about 3 tbsp) red wine vinegar
- Juice of ½ lemon
- 2 garlic cloves
- A pinch of fresh chili (or chili flakes/paprika powder)
- About ⅓ of an onion (we used yellow onion, but red or shallot would be even better)
- A pinch of salt and black pepper
Chop all ingredients finely with a sharp knife and mix them with the liquids.
We chop everything by hand because I think it tastes better that way, and I like the rustic texture.
But if chopping isn’t your thing, go ahead and use a blender like most people—it’s not a sin!
We ate our first chimichurri with sautéed chicken breast (cut into bite-sized pieces) and tagliatelle.
It was tasty, but the onion flavor would have suited grilled steak better than chicken.
We’ll definitely make this same version again—for steak.
2.
Fine-Tuning the Flavors
Before trying our chimichurri with steak, we wanted a more balanced version that suited chicken.
The second time around, we left out the onion entirely and added a third clove of garlic.
Still, the parsley and cilantro didn’t quite give me that rich, herb-packed flavor I was aiming for.
We haven’t tried a third version yet, but I’d recommend adding a generous amount of oregano next time—that’s what we’ll do.
Other herbs are fair game, too. Chimichurri isn’t picky. Use what you have—basil would probably work well.
If you’re using red wine vinegar, the lemon juice isn’t strictly necessary, especially if you want a milder, less acidic sauce.
By the way, the oily sauce didn’t pair perfectly with tagliatelle. The second time, we used penne, which soaked up the sauce better and didn’t slide around the plate.
Either version would work well as a dressing for pasta salad—or any salad, really.
In Argentina, chimichurri isn’t just for grilled meat—it’s often used on grilled vegetables too.
It’s a wonderfully versatile sauce.
Tip:
You can make a larger batch of chimichurri—it’ll keep in the fridge for at least a week.
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