I am shocked - literally appalled at something I have noticed as of late. In my opinion there is no excuse for such behavior, but hey - who am I to judge. It's just that I have a difficult time understanding how so many people have never taken the opportunity to eat at a Brazilian steakhouse. What's more, many individuals with whom I have spoken have never even heard of such a thing.
I will admit it was only recently that I had the chance to dine at a Brazilian steakhouse. My wife had planned a weekend getaway for the two of us, which included an off-Broadway performance, hotel reservations, and dinner plans. She even drove. Although the entire weekend stood out as exemplary, our evening at the Brazilian steakhouse took the cake.
At first the experience mirrored what one would expect while dining at any fine establishment. A well-dressed hostess greeted us at the door, took our jackets, and led us into a cavernous banquet hall. The ceiling was high, the tables spread out and strategically located to accentuate privacy, and the lighting was dim, but adequate. It was precisely the type of atmosphere best suited to consume high levels of protein.
The time between hostess and waiter was minimal. Since this would be our first time dining at a Brazilian steakhouse, he explained the procedure, which was as simple as one could imagine: start at the salad buffet, and the rest is delivered to the table. I put in an order for wine, and for the moment we stayed put - no need to rush the experience.
In my opinion, there is one single aspect that separates a good restaurant from a great restaurant, and that is how the wine is served. When the waiter returned with the bottle he presented the label, gave me the cork, and allowed me first taste, which was appropriate since I placed the order. Now armed with a good Shiraz, I knew more than ever this was going to be an exquisite evening.
Don't let the term "salad bar" fool you - the first course was phenomenal. At the center of the hall, a low island was invitingly stacked with bowls and plates of cold food. Here were pasta dishes, cold salads, artisan cheeses, soups, and dried fruits and nuts. Much of the fare was indigenous to South America and was only complemented by the selection of Wisconsin cheese.
It was no joke - an entire meal could have been made at just the first stop. Despite the temptation, experience has taught me portion consciousness; the main event was yet to come.
We finished our salads. Our wine glasses were topped off. Now, came the fun part. Now we would experience the uniqueness of what it means to dine at a Brazilian steakhouse. At the center of each table was a cylindrical wooden pillar, similar in size to a wine bottle. One side was painted red, the other green. Since we were now ready for the main course, we moved the pillar to the front of our table and turned the green side up.
Almost instantly servers, referred to as gauchos, descended upon our table. Each gaucho brought a skewered cut of meat. On this particular evening there were eight choices: top sirloin, marinated beef tenderloin, seasoned flank steak, strip loin, parmesan-crusted pork tenderloin, leg of lamb, pork sausage, and BBQ chicken breast. Literally, a gaucho would approach the table, describe the fare, and then expertly slice a strip onto a plate. The meat had been cooked rotisserie-style over an open flame, seasoned with in-house marinades and spices.
This style of dining, as it was explained to me, originated when Brazilian cowboys (gauchos) and their families would prepare a great feast, having put in a long day of tending to cattle and stock. They would skewer different cuts and varieties of meats, roast them over a fire, and then carve them at the dinner table. Seasonal vegetables, fruits, and nuts would be made into stews and salads, using the fresh ingredients available at the time.
As I sat with my wife, enjoying a quiet and romantic dinner, I could not help but appreciate how this style of cuisine had been carefully refined. The gauchos were not imposing in the least; it was a real treat to sample such a variety of meats. And, should our plates get full, we simply flipped the wooden pillar so that the red side faced up. This subtle gesture told the gauchos that, at least for the moment, we had enough.
During this adventure we were constantly warned to "save room for dessert." Everyone from the hostess, the waiter, to the gauchos bragged of the desserts made in-house by the pastry chef. I'll be honest - there was one additional offering that completely undermined the need for a dessert menu. During the main course, with the pillar green side up, a gaucho approached with a skewered pineapple. The fruit had been grilled whole, and then dusted with cinnamon and sugar. Let me tell you, that slice of grilled pineapple melted in my mouth. I had an extra serving, and had to skip dessert.
There was nothing not to love about my experience at the Brazilian steakhouse. Good food, good wine, and of course - outstanding company. I happily encourage anyone to give this style of dining a try.
And if you leave hungry you didn't follow the cardinal rule: green side up.
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Tuesday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
I will admit it was only recently that I had the chance to dine at a Brazilian steakhouse. My wife had planned a weekend getaway for the two of us, which included an off-Broadway performance, hotel reservations, and dinner plans. She even drove. Although the entire weekend stood out as exemplary, our evening at the Brazilian steakhouse took the cake.
At first the experience mirrored what one would expect while dining at any fine establishment. A well-dressed hostess greeted us at the door, took our jackets, and led us into a cavernous banquet hall. The ceiling was high, the tables spread out and strategically located to accentuate privacy, and the lighting was dim, but adequate. It was precisely the type of atmosphere best suited to consume high levels of protein.
The time between hostess and waiter was minimal. Since this would be our first time dining at a Brazilian steakhouse, he explained the procedure, which was as simple as one could imagine: start at the salad buffet, and the rest is delivered to the table. I put in an order for wine, and for the moment we stayed put - no need to rush the experience.
In my opinion, there is one single aspect that separates a good restaurant from a great restaurant, and that is how the wine is served. When the waiter returned with the bottle he presented the label, gave me the cork, and allowed me first taste, which was appropriate since I placed the order. Now armed with a good Shiraz, I knew more than ever this was going to be an exquisite evening.
Don't let the term "salad bar" fool you - the first course was phenomenal. At the center of the hall, a low island was invitingly stacked with bowls and plates of cold food. Here were pasta dishes, cold salads, artisan cheeses, soups, and dried fruits and nuts. Much of the fare was indigenous to South America and was only complemented by the selection of Wisconsin cheese.
It was no joke - an entire meal could have been made at just the first stop. Despite the temptation, experience has taught me portion consciousness; the main event was yet to come.
We finished our salads. Our wine glasses were topped off. Now, came the fun part. Now we would experience the uniqueness of what it means to dine at a Brazilian steakhouse. At the center of each table was a cylindrical wooden pillar, similar in size to a wine bottle. One side was painted red, the other green. Since we were now ready for the main course, we moved the pillar to the front of our table and turned the green side up.
Almost instantly servers, referred to as gauchos, descended upon our table. Each gaucho brought a skewered cut of meat. On this particular evening there were eight choices: top sirloin, marinated beef tenderloin, seasoned flank steak, strip loin, parmesan-crusted pork tenderloin, leg of lamb, pork sausage, and BBQ chicken breast. Literally, a gaucho would approach the table, describe the fare, and then expertly slice a strip onto a plate. The meat had been cooked rotisserie-style over an open flame, seasoned with in-house marinades and spices.
This style of dining, as it was explained to me, originated when Brazilian cowboys (gauchos) and their families would prepare a great feast, having put in a long day of tending to cattle and stock. They would skewer different cuts and varieties of meats, roast them over a fire, and then carve them at the dinner table. Seasonal vegetables, fruits, and nuts would be made into stews and salads, using the fresh ingredients available at the time.
As I sat with my wife, enjoying a quiet and romantic dinner, I could not help but appreciate how this style of cuisine had been carefully refined. The gauchos were not imposing in the least; it was a real treat to sample such a variety of meats. And, should our plates get full, we simply flipped the wooden pillar so that the red side faced up. This subtle gesture told the gauchos that, at least for the moment, we had enough.
During this adventure we were constantly warned to "save room for dessert." Everyone from the hostess, the waiter, to the gauchos bragged of the desserts made in-house by the pastry chef. I'll be honest - there was one additional offering that completely undermined the need for a dessert menu. During the main course, with the pillar green side up, a gaucho approached with a skewered pineapple. The fruit had been grilled whole, and then dusted with cinnamon and sugar. Let me tell you, that slice of grilled pineapple melted in my mouth. I had an extra serving, and had to skip dessert.
There was nothing not to love about my experience at the Brazilian steakhouse. Good food, good wine, and of course - outstanding company. I happily encourage anyone to give this style of dining a try.
And if you leave hungry you didn't follow the cardinal rule: green side up.
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Tuesday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
