The combination of a satnav and a magic phone negotiated us to Cape Cod on a glorious August Sunday afternoon. The restaurant was pleasant. What else can I say but: pleasant. I know what it meant to be Leandro Penna for an hour or two at The Brazilian Grill Churasscaria - I was there for the meat.
For those who have never been to a rodizio, you basically pay at the door and pay no more to take your seat to chow down some meat. I can really empathise with Leandro now... After wetting my whistle with some rather gustatory acceptable caipirinhas I flipped my card over to green and sat back and waited for the amino acids to come my way. I was like Yusuf Raza Gilani salivating waiting for a healthy cheque signed off by Mr. Cameron. As expected, it did not disappoint. The highlight for me was munching down on the chicken hearts. Each heart required some hearty mastication- these little critters pumped out tenderness pulsated with a whiff of charcoal from the grill. What does a chicken heart like? Very tender chicken is the answer.
The steaks were offered rare and oozing succulentness from every sinew. No fancy seasoning with the Colonel's secret spices. Just throw on some salt and grill like a virgin. Delightful. Unlike my Kobe, these steaks were rugged like a barbarian. The way they just peeled off the carving knife would have raised Hannibal Lecter's heart rate ever so slightly. Other pork offerings were on offer but for me it was all about the steak and chicken hearts spearheading the attack in a 4-4-2 formation.
On a side note, the black pudding was really rather good. It was an unsung hero like Gilberto Silva. Spicey, crunchy with a dense heavy taste, if Blade were British he would be employing a strategy of winning hearts and minds by firing these slabs of black pudding at Deacon Frost instead of silver tipped bullets.
The Ho Down says: I would not throw a banana at The Brazilian Grill Churasscaria.
No comments:
Post a Comment