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| Rodizio! Hurt me! |
We all wanted to go somewhere exciting and unique, just like our birthday girl Becky. When Becky decided on the Ipanema Grille, which is the area's only Brazilian steakhouse, we were all very intrigued and excited to say the least.
I had heard about Brazilian steakhouses from a friend of mine a little over a year before. She and her boyfriend enjoyed going to Brazilian steakhouses for date nights. She described the dining experience as delicious and sensuous, romantic and savory. Naturally that description piqued my interest completely. I added it to my bucket list and made a mental note that when traveling about in metropolitan areas to seek out Brazilian steakhouses. Why wouldn't I?
She did forewarn me that the price was more than the average cost of dinner, but because I grew up around incredible cooks and worked in a few restaurants where the food was downright amazing, I had become a conessiour of food, if you will. I respected well prepared and flavorful food. I myself am an accomplished cook in many arenas. Cooking is a therapeutic and creative outlet for me. It is one of the many ways I show affection for my friends and family. And while my budget is not one for fine dining, I did treat myself a few times a year to a fine dining experience since food has always been a passion of mine.
Brazilian Steakhouses or Churrascaria offer what is called a Rodizio, which is a traditional Brazilian grill. It originates from Portugal, where meat is cooked Churrasco, which is Portuguese for barbecue. Various types of meat are roasted on a spit over an open fire, rotisserie style. Once the meat is roasted to perfection, Passadores, aka meat waiters, bring each meat around to the tables and slice off portions of the meat for the patrons to sample. Since most Rodizios are all you can eat, once you have finished your samples, you are welcome to request more.
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| Princess Sunshine Becky on her big day. Mazel tov and feliz aniversário!!!! |
I was determined to become "meat drunk" if you will. Bring it on Passadore! I was really looking forward to sampling everything but the lamb and the chicken hearts. I do not eat lamb nor any type of animal organs. Or so I thought.
As we were entering the grille, Becky's sister and my adopted sister Caryn turned to me and in an innocent, sweet manner asked if there was sausage on the Rodizio. I couldn't help but start laughing. Most people would be asking what cuts of beef they were offering. Filet? Sirloin? Prime Rib?
Not our girl Caryn. I laughed and assured her there was sausage. A small wave of what seemed to be relief crossed her face. "Good because I love sausage." she stated. I started laughing again because it is true, both Brominksi ladies love their sausage.
We took our seats in this quaint, NYC inspired grille, admiring the art and decor as the bartender arrived to greet us and inquire if we would like anything from the bar. Since Tuesday was half price night for the house specialty drinks, we ordered a pitcher of Sangria. Since I am a when in Rome kind of gal, as in I want to experience as much of a culture, city, region or event as possible, I also ordered a Caiprinha. Caiprinha is Brazil's national drink. White sugarcane rum, called cachaça is mixed with lime and sugar and served over ice. It was not only refreshing and the perfect mix of sweet and tart, it was also incredibly potent. Fuck it, I wasn't driving. I'll have another. And so I did.
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| Caiprinha. |
He forewarned me not to load up on the buffet because if I did, I would not have room to try all the meat. Since my mission was to be "meat drunk", I took his advice to heart. I also warned all the gals in our party to stay calm at the buffet.
The buffet had all sorts of delectable food. It was very hard to hold back. Fresh, marinated asparagus spears, steamed broccoli with lemon and garlic, fresh mozzarella and tomato salad, olives of every type, some kind of weird but tasty Brazilian cole slaw, deep fried polenta and bananas, chicken wings in some kind of Brazilian sauce ( I was just calling everything I was unsure of Brazilian sauce), prosciutto and provolone rolls ( wait, that's Italian?), plates of different kinds of Brazilian cheeses like pecorino and mozzarella .... wait...this whole buffet had Italian cuisine on it. Am I missing something here? I was so confused. Italian bread and marinated peppers were also on this Brazilian buffet disguised as an Italian antipasti?!?
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| I took it easy at the buffet. It was tough to do. Everything looked so good! |
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| Part of the huge buffet at Ipanema. |
Our birthday girl grabbed a nice serving of marinated peppers. She took a whole one in the mouth like the bad girl she is. Unfortunately they forgot to notate that they were extremely hot, marinated peppers. Becky skipped turning red and went right to purple in a record five seconds. I told her she needed milk. She insisted she did not. I told her that yes she did need milk. She said no. I said yes. She can be a little stubborn but I can be even more stubborn. Finally our friends Nadalie and Kendra took charge of the bickering and ordered our bday gal a milk. The waitress brought it to her in a coffee cup because why wouldn't you drink milk from a coffee cup.
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| Aww! Sometimes you should gently lick something before taking the whole thing in your mouth. Just saying. LMFAO! Have some milk in a coffee cup. |
If we turned it to the red side, it meant no more meat please. I just laughed. She had NO idea just how much meat I could eat. But, she eventually she would discover just how much meat I could handle. Wow. That sounded so pervy.
We were given forks and tongs. I had no idea why she gave us tongs. None of us did really. Becky explained they are used to pull the meat slices from the spit. By this time I was feeling pretty good so the innuendos were flying at the table nonstop.
I don't spit. Won't it hurt the meat if I pull on it with tongs. I want my meat to like me. "Not if I pull gently." Becky retorted as she reassured me meat loves me and that spitting wasn't very ladylike. I felt so much better. Let's have another glass of sangria.
Becky wasn't kidding. We all turned and watched as our passadore walked towards us with this big spit of meat. I was so excited that I wiggled in my chair like a little girl and started clapping a little. First up to sample was garlic roasted sirloin. I watched as the passadore made her way around everyone's plate. She asked each of the ladies how they liked their meat, then sliced hunks of meat from the spit according to their requests.
The ladies used the tongs to remove each piece of meat from the spit. When it came my turn, I requested medium. In my opinion, meat is at it's most flavorful when prepared medium. It's perfection. But that is just me. My dad and my sister rather enjoy the flavor of charcoal encrusted hockey pucks. Did I say that out loud?
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| Garlic roasted sirloin heaven! |
Our passadore brought the peppered roast beef next. Again the meat was melt in your mouth tender but there was a boat load of pepper on it. Too much for my taste. I was glad I only took one slice. Next up was the skirt steak.
Skirt steak can be very chewy if not prepared just right. Since steak is not one of my strong points, I do not mess with skirt steak. However, this skirt steak tasted like it could be beef tenderloin. It had the meatiest flavor by far which was just amazing. It was beautiful in it's own right. Becky declared this one to be her favorite. It was a nice choice. I commended her.
When the passadore brought the rib eye, I was super excited. It was the meat I was most excited to try. I love rib eyes. I took three slices of the rib eye done medium. Again, the meat was done to absolute perfection. However, I was still madly in love with garlic roasted sirloin. If the rib eye would have had garlic, then perhaps it would have been numero uno but as of this moment, the garlic roasted sirloin was still my fav.
We were only four meats into the Rodizio and already I was starting to feel full. However, I am no quitter. Next!!!
The turkey wrapped bacon reminded me of ramaki. And while it had a smokey flavor that I relished, the bacon just didn't do it for me. I did not care for the whole turkey/bacon combo. I only ate half of my portion. I felt really bad for wasting food but I just couldn't do it. Becky was more than happy to assist me so I did not have to feel guilty. I turned to Megan who, like me, was starting to feel full. We were troopers though. We pressed ahead.
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| I went back to Ipanema with my daughter. She loved it! |
As much as I enjoyed the lamb, I couldn't get past the rosemary. I finished my slice but passed on a second one. I wanted more of the garlic roasted sirloin. Instead the passadore brought the plain sirloin. It was soooooo good. I make sirloin quite a bit but mine never come out this wonderful. I decide I needed to build a Churrasco in my backyard. Hopefully I won't burn the neighborhood down.
I looked down at my stomach. I looked pregnant. I announced to the table that I was pregnant with meat's baby. All the ladies found this to be absolutely hilarious. We sampled the top round. Again, very nicely prepared. It was slightly chewier than the other meats but that is to be expected with top round. It was still way better than anything I could have prepared.
I noticed Becky and Caryn getting very excited. We looked to the passadore who was standing over our table with a spit full of sausage. Sausage Time!!! Caryn's eyes lit up at the sight. I decided to pass on the sausage because I personally wanted more beef. Instead I took pics of the lovely Brominski ladies enjoying their sausages. And boy, do they know how to eat a sausage. First you nibble on a sausage, then you take a little more, savoring it. Then you go in for the kill. Hawt!
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| So lady like Caryn. Nothing like a little foreplay. |
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| Becky....you are such a tease. |
After the sausagefest, there were chicken legs. They were huge! Again, I decided to pass. I was looking for the filet mignon. Did I mention how much I love beef? Such a fiesty little carnivore I am. I decided to excuse myself for a smoke. I know it's not healthy to smoke when you are pregnant but I needed a breather to make room for more meat. Megan joined me for a smoke because she too was making room. When we returned from our smoke all the gals were at the table giggling.
"Fess, we got you a piece of meat while you were out. It's the filet. You have to try it. It is sooooo good."
Okay. By now I am a little more than buzzed because Caiprinhas are so damned good but unless I am blacked out, I always have my wits about me. The little roundish ball sitting on my plate was no way in hell filet mignon. I look at my plate, then I look at Becky. She lets out that loud adorable, genuine laugh that I am so very fond of. She insists I try the filet. I look to Caryn. She is like "I'm telling ya, it's so good. We even got Megan some filet." Megan and I look at each other. I call bullshit.
I decided to say screw it. You know, the whole when in Rome shit I like to practice. They all laugh hysterically as I take my knife and fork and proceed to cut the most minuscule little sliver of CHICKEN HEART known to man and put it in my mouth. Surprisingly, I didn't puke. The chicken heart was weird and chewy and smoky but not at all revolting. I even took another little sliver just to be sure. Nah, it was too weird for me but hey, I gave it a shot.
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Give me more meat please!
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Becky also "forced" me to finish the sangria. So not fair. I believe she poured so much into my glass that it spilled over onto the table. I could be wrong, but I don't think I am. Becky the Pusher! Just say no, unless you are mostly Irish and "no" is not in your vocabulary.
My sweet alcohol pushing friend Becky calls the passadore over to our table. She informs her we did not get the filet yet and that we would also like more garlic sirloin and skirt steak. The passadore apologizes profusely because she thought she brought the filet over already.
She quickly retreats to the kitchen then reappears with the spit of filet. We all take a piece. I am not at all impressed with it. I will say, if there is one steak I make well, it is a filet. I make it almost every year for Christmas dinner. I buy a whole beef tenderloin and slow roast it in the oven with garlic, olive oil and butter. It is truly fabulous.
After the filet, Becky and I are the last ones standing. The passadore brings my future husband over and Becky's back door man. She is a sucker for a man in a skirt. I take three big slices of the garlic sirloin. I have no idea where I am going to put it since it has become apparent I am pregnant with twins but I find the room.
As Becky finishes her skirt steak we look at each other. We glance around the table. Everyone gives the nod. It is with a heavy heart that I changed the thimble thingy from green to red. I'm not gonna lie, our passadore looked a little relieved. I also noticed we were the last table in the place. So not surprised by this.
However, we were not done. For dessert there was a brown sugar coated pineapple on a spit. Kendra and I also opted for the banana crepes. By now I was trying to recall ninth grade physics because the density in my stomach was so heavy that upon entering the minivan, I just may tip the thing like a fulcrum or pulley or plane or one of those six physic gadget things. (Physics was not my strong point but I was an ace in Chemistry.) The bartender cames over, crepes in hand and set them on fire. I started clapping. I loved eating fire food. How exciting!!
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| Flaming Bananas |
As our evening came to an end, I declared myself officially "meat drunk". We all were. This rowdy bunch of gals thanked our wonderful hosts for a fantastic evening filled with all sorts of meat goodness. After we paid the bill, we made our way outside. Some of us were walking a little slower than others. The two genuinely pregnant ladies in our group were having an easier time moving than the rest of us.
As I stepped into the fresh cold air I felt it. I started scolding myself in my head. "Do not EVEN think about hurling. You just paid $35 for a meal. There is no way in hell you are puking it up in the middle of the sidewalk in Scranton. It is not happening." I looked over at Caryn. She was feeling it even worse than I was. She said she was going to puke. I empathized with her pain.
We decided to take a break from walking to the minivan. We had made it approximately seven feet from the front door of the restaurant. We made sure Becky had all of her presents and her balloons. I'll tell you what, this was one hell of a sweet sixteen/bat mitzvah. We asked her if she had a good time but the look on her face said it all. She was beaming with happiness. That was all that mattered.
During the 45 minutes it took us to walk to the minivan parked 20 feet away ( okay I may be exaggerating a little) we had lots of laughs about the night. It was definitely an experience worth having. The food and the service was fantastic, the company of good friends priceless, and our birthday girl Becky, well she is one of a kind. There is only one Becky B and I get the honor and privilege of calling her one of my bestest.
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| Me and my gal Becky B |
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| Always a good time with these fabulous women. |
I highly recommend dining at a Brazilian steakhouse. It is worth every penny. It's unique, fun and delicious. I am so glad we did this. I love trying new things. I love having new experiences. I love living life. It's moments like these that make the not so great days bearable. I appreciate every single one. I take in every little detail and sear it into my mind. One day, I will be the old lady telling her grand children and anyone else willing to listen about all of my adventures....I plan to have so many adventures that I will never have to tell the same story twice. That is what life is all about.
Ipanema Grill, Scranton, PA
Chrissy
