The country’s beach scene is known as one of the best in South America.
But the epicurean delights of its rich, ranch-filled interior and rolling winelands have been less explored until now.
I’d justified my carnivorous meal by framing it as a litmus test.
From left: One of the bar shacks lining the beach at José Ignacio, where the vibe is exclusive but always low-key; an asado, or mixed grill, at beach pop-up El Caracol, near José Ignacio.Christopher Churchill
Had the stalwart, working-class feel of the place become prissy and boutique?
Of all my childhood memories of Uruguay, the parilla was a cornerstone.
As my siblings and I got older, our family visits tapered off.
Kitesurfing on Laguna Garzón.Christopher Churchill
Punta del Este succumbed to overdevelopment, becoming, in my aunt’s words, “a mini-Miami.”
Years passed a couple of decades, actually.
My cousin’s tour of the place was decidedly personal.
From left: A polo player at Estancia Vik, a ranch hotel seven miles inland from José Ignacio; an aerial view of Estancia Vik, where seclusion—and horseback riding— is the main draw.Christopher Churchill
The town has become busier, the shabby outweighed by the chic.
To my eyes, however, the place still looked delightfully unspoiled.
Nearly every corner of the town offers one, if not two angles on the Atlantic.
A guest villa at Sacromonte Landscape Hotel.Christopher Churchill
Both vistas are unmarred by gates, walls, gaudy signage, or garish construction.
You don’t need a car," Michele said.
Waving away comparisons to destinations like St.-Tropez and the Hamptons, my cousin laughed.
The vineyards surrounding Sacromonte Landscape Hotel.Christopher Churchill
“St.-Tropez is crowded and it barely has any sand,” she said.
“The Hamptons are beautiful, but socially…?”
With so much space and so few crowds, the scene is never going to become too intense.
Zucchini salad with Parmesan, almonds, and mint at Restaurante Garzón.Christopher Churchill
The most successful restaurant in the area is, without question, La Huella.
It’s also the hardest table to score in the busy months of January and February.
“This is the best,” she cooed.
Fabio Alberti, the comedian and chef behind one-room restaurant Choto.Christopher Churchill
“When they don’t want people to see you, they put you in the back.”
My cousin waltzed through a series of greetings kiss kiss, both cheeks, “Ayyy, que divino!
The sea, the beach, the kids, and thesh-sh-sh-heavy dialect of Uruguay and Argentina felt entirely familiar.
The mural-clad Zodiaco lounge and restaurant, at Bahia Vik.Christopher Churchill
At first, Estancia Vik seemed too quiet.
But when we arrived, ours was the only car in the driveway.
Hip, plush, and imposing but no one about.
Where was all the see-and-be-seen action?
As Michele and I settled into our airy, lofty rooms, the ranch vibe began to hit me.
Outside my floor-to-ceiling window, a brown-orange carancha hawk stood sentry on a wooden fence post.
“This country is so incredibly rural,” she said.
“There are places where kids still ride to school on horseback.
They tie their horses up to a post.”
I must outgrow my beach-centric conception from childhood, she said.
“It’s surf and turf now.”
First off, I reasoned, polo is for snobs.
Second, I’d surely break my pelvis.
Most disconcertingly, I’d undoubtedly make an ass of myself.
I was proved wrong on all counts.
I can’t remember the last time I lost myself in something so thoroughly.
The wind was bracing and the sun low.
For miles on either side, the rugged dunes were wild and entirely ours.
The allure of surf and turf was becoming more apparent by the hour.
In the past, Uruguay’s interior meant sheep, cows, and very little else.
The winery offers tours and a restaurant helmed by Argentine celebrity chefFrancis Mallmann.
“Everyone thought I was having a midlife crisis,” he laughed.
“I sold all my stock options, everything.”
In primeval times, Uruguay was covered with small, scrubby forests like those regenerating at Sacromonte.
The loudest sound I heard all morning was a cow, lowing from across the hill.
I circled back to Pueblo Garzon, about an hour’s drive from Sacromonte.
I ordered a sirloinmilanesa,the classic breaded dish typically made with veal or beef.
The raw-zucchini salad with mint and wide-shaved Parmesan was category-shattering.
Perelli had praised Mallmann as something of a visionary.
“Everything else shuts down after February, so nothing you’re seeing exists outside the holiday window.
Mallmann’s open all year, here in the interior.
He’s really planted a much deeper stake,” she continued.
“He’s raised the level for everyone.”
His wife had left to visit relatives in Argentina, so he would be doing the cooking.
He made it sound dire.
When I asked which interpretation Alberti had in mind for his restaurant, he seemed not to hear me.
A few minutes later, he emerged from the kitchen with a large bone on a small plate.
“This,” he announced, “is a cow arm, similar to osso buco.
We call the marrowcaracu.”
Even now, his transition to the restaurant business sounded tentative.
“I’m not a cook, I’m an actor.
I don’t want to be bound to this.
When people want to come, okay, I’ll open.
If people like it, great.”
The final course was duck the first I’d ever seen in Uruguay.
It was tender and juicy on the inside, fatty and crispy on the outside.
Alberti served it with french fries, cooked three times at varying intervals.
For a non-chef, I offered, he seemed to care an awful lot about cooking.
“I learned everything on YouTube.”
Alberti seemed pleased by the comparison.
“Uruguay doesn’t have much,” he mused.
“But what it has, it uses perfectly.
That’s how I want to live.
I want to work less, have less, but use everything in the best way possible.
I think that’s the perfect life.”
Rent a car for the two-hour drive to Jose Ignacio.
Blue Parallel, Sacromonte, and Vik Retreats provided support for the reporting of this story.
