My first-ever published restaurant review, for The Guardian newspaper, featured a Brazilian rodizio ”“ an all-you-can-eat restaurant that had installed itself in the shabby surroundings of a tired, old West London pub. It was a novelty, for sure, this Brazilian beauty, with its Copacabana glamour and palpable sense of plenitude. The people kept coming and so did the plaudits. With lines that stretched out the door and around the block at weekends, that colorful, brimming buffet brought a ray of sunshine to a rather forlorn, down at heel ”™hood. In short, it was a revelation.
Fast forward 25 years and the Brazilian meme is no longer a novelty. Rodizios and gaucho restaurants ”“ which are named for the Brazilian cowboys who nowadays, as servers, are supposed to rustle up not cattle but plates of good food ”“ proliferate. At best, they are true to the original model, sunny, abundant places, with delicious grilled meats At worst, they are tired, formulaic parodies of themselves. So it was with reservations, no pun intended, that my guest and I ventured out to Terra Gaúcha, a megawatt, supercharged behemoth of a recently opened new restaurant, occupying 8,000 square feet on the site of the short-lived Cheesecake Factory in the massive mall that is Stamford Town Center.
Terra Gaúcha, which has two other locations in Jacksonville and Tampa, Florida, labels itself a churrascarÃa, or barbecue restaurant, which sets the bar even higher. To me, churrasco conjures up a grill of white-hot coals on which you fling slabs of meat to hear them sizzle and fry, often in a matter of mere seconds, the smell of the meat as good as the taste. (In true Proustian fashion, I can never forget the experience of my first churrasco, in Córdoba, Spain, and my visceral ”“ some might say worrying ”“ response to that sweet aroma of gloriously cooked meat.)
Hoping, then, for more of a true churrasco than some hackneyed, barbecue fiasco, we approached the host stand, and were greeted by a smiling host who asked us ”“ charmingly, it must be said ”“ whether we had visited a churrascarÃa before. She then led us for what seemed liked miles past a tantalizing, central buffet table, quite the walk, before depositing us (still with a smile) at the farthest table in the room, the Siberia of Brazil if you will. “We”™ll need a ball of string to find our way back to the buffet,” quipped my guest, “let alone the entrance.” But the joint was fairly jumping and we had already spied the gauchos circling. And samba was purring from the speakers and the encouraging sound of cocktails being shaken was emanating from the bar, and all in all it was a good Saturday night vibe, so we sat down demurely and decided to jolly well buck up and start enjoying ourselves.
To be honest, it was hard not to, once we started. A couple or so caipirinhas ”“ the most insidious of cocktails, made with lime juice, sugar and cachaça, Brazil”™s signature spirit ”“ proved such good lubrication we never made it to the wine list. And helping ourselves at the buffet table ”“ a table fairly groaning with very fresh salads, rice, grains, pulses and inviting-looking vegetables ”“ before a single sliver of barbecued flesh had even been consumed, we felt like kids let loose in the candy store.
But Terra Gaúcha”™s high-spot is, of course, its meat, and very fine it proved to be ”“ seven cuts of beef, including tenderloin, rib-eye and sirloin, as well as two distinct cuts of lamb, chicken thighs and drumsticks and loin and ribs of pork. The cooking method, we learned, is slightly different from a Spanish churrasco or barbecue, but typical of southern Brazil, where the meats are slowly roasted, using high-grade natural wood charcoal and rock salt. And if there is the occasional dried-out drumstick or overdone chop, all is quickly forgiven when a beaming, uniformed gaucho slices ribbons of deliciously pink sirloin onto your plate, and you eat them with a side of corn or a piping hot, butter-smothered potato. (Plus, added my guest, irreverently, “who can ever resist a uniform?”)
Pace yourself, though ”“ a little of everything, perhaps, or a lot of what you know you like. Terra Gaúcha”™s most popular dish? That would be the pichana, or premium sirloin cap. Doesn”™t surprise me: It”™s a silk-smooth, juicy, flavorful cut of meat.
Back at our Siberian table meanwhile, three caipirinhas and several plates of beef and lamb down, we make friends with our Siberian neighbors and agree that, though we”™re all having fun on our Brazilian night out, the experience is probably best enjoyed if you come as part of a larger group ”“ and what better time to do that than now as we head in to the holiday season. (The restaurant boasts four private dining rooms as well as a 40-seat outdoor terrace for warmer weather.)
My own personal takeaway? I”™m happy to eat my words along with these terrific roasted meats and declare that the death of the Brazilian barbecue has been greatly exaggerated.
