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My friend Cathy thinks that Fogo de Chão, the Brazilian churrascaria on the Country Club Plaza, should remove the display rotisserie that rotates theatrically in the show windows west of the restaurant. There are real flames, and meat appears to be cooking (it's actually fatty beef that would have been tossed out), but Cathy is hungry for a different sight.
"They need to put some of those gorgeous men on the metal skewers in that window," she says. "Preferably sweaty and shirtless."
The men she's talking about are the narrow-waisted, good-looking passadores — most of them natives of Brazil — who dash through the dark dining room at Fogo de Chão, wielding long metal skewers impaled with juicy, dripping, succulent hunks of roasted beef, chicken, pork, lamb and sausage. The men dress like gauchos and, with a couple of exceptions, look like swarthy old-Hollywood heartthrob Tyrone Power in Blood and Sand.
"They're the best thing about this dining experience," Cathy says. She's a local actress with a notoriously bawdy sense of humor. "You show me a sexy man holding up a big piece of hot meat, and I'll say we're not in a restaurant but a porno movie."
It's not merely the men and their meat that suggest a sexual subtext at this outpost of the Dallas-based chain. (There are 15 other locations, including Chicago and Beverly Hills.) Here, in one of the more iconic dining venues on the Plaza — the site formerly occupied by Putsch's 210, Fedora and George Brett's — even the salad bar gives off a faintly erotic glow.
That salad bar is actually a show in itself. Located in the center of the dining room and topped with two flamboyant floral creations, this festive fantasia of chilled delicacies includes fresh greens and the expected toppings. But there also are slices of fleshy, pink smoked salmon; firm rods of ivory hearts of palm; milky mounds of fresh mozzarella; and thick phallic stalks of marinated asparagus.
Cathy and her husband, Dan, and my friend Franklin heaped their plates with those items as well as spoonfuls of tabouli, a first-rate chicken salad, pickled beets, imported cheeses, tissue-thin slices of prosciutto, and sliced red tomatoes drizzled with olive oil. I did, also, taking care not to be too greedy. I'd eaten at two other Brazilian steakhouses in the metro (one has since closed), and I knew what would follow in Act 2: an orgy of roasted meat — not the usual all-you-can-eat pornography, either, but something from the court of Henry II or the movie Caligula.
Before our group had finished eating salads, the passadores noticed that Cathy and Dan had unwittingly turned the little round cards at their place settings — they thought they were coasters — from the red side to the green. Like marauding gladiators, they stalked over to our table, skewers drawn like swords and, one by one, began to unload glorious cuts of meat: bacon-wrapped filet mignon, rib eye, sirloin, young leg of lamb, slow-roasted pork ribs.
Using the little metal tongs at our table, we could neatly assist each passadore by plucking pieces of meat as he expertly used a dangerous-looking knife to slice off sections of gorgeously roasted lamb or beef. You want a rare slice? The passadore cuts right into it. Medium rare? It's there, too.
When Cathy wasn't flirting with the meat servers, she was noting the sensual qualities of the side dishes — a quivering mound of mashed potatoes, the caramelized and slightly flaccid bananas. "They're too sweet," Cathy said. "But the texture is really nice. Something soft and creamy is a nice counterpoint to all this juicy red meat."
My own head was spinning by this point, and I was the first at our table to flip over my round card from green to red. I had eaten more meat in the first 20 minutes of the meal than I typically eat in a week. Those passadores come at you with the intensity of starving mosquitoes; before you've looked down at one piece of meat, another server is there brandishing a skewer of something different, urging you to take more.
While Cathy, Dan and Franklin savored their dinners, I looked around at the busy, bustling space. Fogo de Chão is one of the costliest restaurants in the city — dinner is $42.50 and doesn't include drinks, gratuity or dessert — but the dining room was full on a Thursday night. Most of the patrons were men, including a big party of broad-shouldered guys in town for a convention. "We get a lot of tourists here," confided one of the servers. "They want steak, but they want something different, too."
The desserts are as oversized as everything else in this restaurant (except the wine and cocktails, which looked like stingy pours). Cathy and Dan shared a flan as wide as a saucer, and Franklin devoured a big slab of chocolate cake layered with creamy mousse. That did it for Cathy and Dan, who loved the restaurant but weren't sure if they would come back: "It's sort of wretched excess," Dan said. "Don't you think?"
I was thinking, actually, of Voltaire. After visiting a male brothel, he reportedly admitted to having had a good time, but explained he could never return. "Once a philosopher," he said, "twice a pervert."
I didn't feel like a pervert, exactly, returning to Fogo de Chão for lunch — a glutton, maybe. This time I opted to skip the, uh, meat service in favor of the salad bar. My friends Truman and Georgina went for the whole shebang and ate too much.
"This isn't a place for ladies to eat," Georgina said, as she cut into a block of garlic-seasoned sirloin. "It's for big hulking teenage boys."
She nodded toward a table of five: a father, a mother and their three muscular offspring. Georgina also couldn't stop watching a skinny hippie type in Birkenstocks and puka shells — I would have pegged him as a vegan — who effortlessly polished off five, six, then seven plates of meat. "I've never seen anything like it," she whispered. "He can't stop eating."
He didn't look the part, but that man was precisely the kind of customer who gets his money's worth out of Fogo de Chão. The rest of us were ready to wave the white flag — or the red circle — after the first round of roasted meats and potatoes and fried polenta and baked bananas.
Truman, who hasn't had a date in a while, had approached his meal with great passion. I was surprised by how much he could eat that day. "I don't know exactly who said it," he announced, spearing a hot banana with his fork, "but I agree with the quote that goes, 'Food has replaced sex in my life. Now I can't even get in my own pants.'"
At Fogo de Chão, despite the steamy undercurrents, it's perfectly fine to replace the fantasy of intercourse with the waking dream of endless cooked flesh. In fact, that's what this restaurant is all about.
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Hands Down the best dining experience I have ever had. My Fiance and I went last year on our anniversary and were treated like royalty. Fantastic service. Though after your first experience the next time you go you will hit the salad bar a little softer since you know the tremendous amount of food that is to follow.
Hands Down the best dining experience I have ever had. My Fiance and I went last year on our anniversary and were treated like royalty. Fantastic service. Though after your first experience the next time you go you will hit the salad bar a little softer since you know the tremendous amount of food that is to follow.
I went with a group of 10 to this restaurant last night. The first thing I noticed is that they serve these great dinner rolls with cheese inside them, but no bread plates. Thats right, Red Lobster will give you a bread plate, but here, we had to keep our dinner rolls and bread on the table. Next, when they came over to take our drink order, I ordered a Coke. Keep in mind that the meat is fairly salty, the salad bar has lots of onions and spices, and its over 100 degrees outside. What did they bring me to drink? An 8 oz plastic bottle of Coke. Two swallows and this bottle was empty! All for the measly sum of $2.95 per bottle. The $42 dinner charge is high enough, but to rape you on these dinky bottles of coke for $2.95 each already told me that I'm going to get raped by the end of the dinner. After 3 small bottles of Coke, it was necessary to start rationioning it so that the price of my Coke did not go higher than my dinner. As for the dinner, the restaurant was pretty full. There must have been 7 or 8 waiters running around with skeweres of hot meat and sharp knives and also carrying a bowl under the meat to catch the juices. Hmmmm..... Does that sound like an accident waiting to happen? Do you want your skewer of meat stuck in the face of each customer at the restaurant and then have a piece cut off onto your plate? I found the concept disgusting and unhygenic. Their famous salad bar had no iceberg lettuce, no hard boiled eggs, no soups, and lacking in many other ways. Sweet Tomatoes salad bar and many other restaurants have much better salad bars. For $19.50 for just the salad bar, we need to at least cover the basics with lettuce. One person in our party was a gourmet chef. After tasting the side dish of mashed potatoes she swears that they use instant potatoes, and they were not very good. As the old saying goes, fool me once, shame on you - to avoid being shamed again, I will not return to this restaurant. There are too many other good restaurants within walking distance that have bread plates and a better salad bar.
I went with a group of 10 to this restaurant last night. The first thing I noticed is that they serve these great dinner rolls with cheese inside them, but no bread plates. Thats right, Red Lobster will give you a bread plate, but here, we had to keep our dinner rolls and bread on the table. Next, when they came over to take our drink order, I ordered a Coke. Keep in mind that the meat is fairly salty, the salad bar has lots of onions and spices, and its over 100 degrees outside. What did they bring me to drink? An 8 oz plastic bottle of Coke. Two swallows and this bottle was empty! All for the measly sum of $2.95 per bottle. The $42 dinner charge is high enough, but to rape you on these dinky bottles of coke for $2.95 each already told me that I'm going to get raped by the end of the dinner. After 3 small bottles of Coke, it was necessary to start rationioning it so that the price of my Coke did not go higher than my dinner. As for the dinner, the restaurant was pretty full. There must have been 7 or 8 waiters running around with skeweres of hot meat and sharp knives and also carrying a bowl under the meat to catch the juices. Hmmmm..... Does that sound like an accident waiting to happen? Do you want your skewer of meat stuck in the face of each customer at the restaurant and then have a piece cut off onto your plate? I found the concept disgusting and unhygenic. Their famous salad bar had no iceberg lettuce, no hard boiled eggs, no soups, and lacking in many other ways. Sweet Tomatoes salad bar and many other restaurants have much better salad bars. For $19.50 for just the salad bar, we need to at least cover the basics with lettuce. One person in our party was a gourmet chef. After tasting the side dish of mashed potatoes she swears that they use instant potatoes, and they were not very good. As the old saying goes, fool me once, shame on you - to avoid being shamed again, I will not return to this restaurant. There are too many other good restaurants within walking distance that have bread plates and a better salad bar.
I'm with Andy. Enjoyable read, and it convinced me to look forward to giving it a try when I have something to celebrate (I hope that's sooner rather than later!). Reviewers who painstakingly list menu items bore me. I want to know about the experience. Keep up the good work.
I'm with Andy. Enjoyable read, and it convinced me to look forward to giving it a try when I have something to celebrate (I hope that's sooner rather than later!). Reviewers who painstakingly list menu items bore me. I want to know about the experience. Keep up the good work.
I, on the other hand, enjoyed every word of the review. I learned everything about the food that I needed to know. And the balance about the atmosphere and the steamy wait staff was classic Ferruza. I forwarded the link to an old friend who has moved from the area. Please feel free to bend the definition of 'restaurant critic' whenever you get the urge, Charles!
I, on the other hand, enjoyed every word of the review. I learned everything about the food that I needed to know. And the balance about the atmosphere and the steamy wait staff was classic Ferruza. I forwarded the link to an old friend who has moved from the area. Please feel free to bend the definition of 'restaurant critic' whenever you get the urge, Charles!
Good point, Dillo! But I'm saving my Em Chamas information for a couple of Fat City blogs this week! Keep an eye open for them.
Good point, Dillo! But I'm saving my Em Chamas information for a couple of Fat City blogs this week! Keep an eye open for them.
And once again I spend time reading more about the damn atmosphere of a restaurant than about the actual food. Seriously, Chazz, let's hear a comparison between the oh-so-expensive Fogo and the less expensive Em Chamas. You could have also mentioned that Em Chamas has recently gone to a new pricing structure. I don't want to hear about phallic asparagus or rods of heart of palm - this isn't Tony Bourdain's show on Food Porn.
And once again I spend time reading more about the damn atmosphere of a restaurant than about the actual food. Seriously, Chazz, let's hear a comparison between the oh-so-expensive Fogo and the less expensive Em Chamas. You could have also mentioned that Em Chamas has recently gone to a new pricing structure. I don't want to hear about phallic asparagus or rods of heart of palm - this isn't Tony Bourdain's show on Food Porn.
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