Fogo Gaucho

Some work buddies took me to dinner at a Gaucho-style Brazilian steakhouse named Fogo de Chao. I’d never done Gaucho before, but I think I heard this word a lot in London and it basically means cowboy in South American. The cocktails were top shelf and the salad bar was exquisite, with salads, veggies and cheeses from around the world. But cowboys don’t come for the salad bar; cowboys want meat to flood their boots and hats like a torrential waterfall.

We were instructed that when we were finished on salads and bread, we should flip our coasters over to the green side. Green means “go”, or “serve me meat” or, more appropriately, “belligerently try to serve me your cuts of meat, regardless of how many other guys just gave me a slice of some other meat that is still waiting to be devoured on my plate.” Yes, it was a little stressful, but so, so wonderful. Each large-knife-wielding waiter that walked past had a spike with some different animal and flavouring that he’d offer to cut a slice from. It was sort of like yum cha but with damn fine meats that didn’t meow or woof.

The next day, meat comas ensued, all around. In fact, I ate no breakfast or dinner; just a vegetarian lunch. Such was the effect on this soft Gaucho.

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Comments
One Response to “Fogo Gaucho”
  1. sherine says:

    i sympathise, i had meat sweats for ages after:)

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