We Go Native

Sally came for the weekend. She arrives just when Orion's eyes are tired of rolling from my inanities. We head out to Rodizio Brazilian Steakhouse on Broadway. Naturally there is no parking. On the street, a mountain of filthy snow walls off the sidewalks from the street. We drive around in circles when I spot an open street space. Sally pulls into the deep slush. I step out into the muck as it slushes over my shoe top. Remembering that the good people of Somerville have visitors feed meters until 8 pm (a $30 lesson), Sally scales the steep snow bank to feed 8 quarters into the meter set into the icy peak. We walk to the restaurant and find a vast room, filled with tables and empty of customers.

A very charming fifteen year old tells us that we serve ourselves at the buffet. Prix Fixe. We wander over and stare at the largely mysterious looking pans. She appears again and gives a tour of mixed Portugese and English translations. We express interest in the acres of roasting meats and a young gaucho appears with a massive knife and tells us we are looking at coracao de frango, piranha, peito de fringe com bacon, carneiro, alcatra. Okay who knows portugese? Fortunately, at the table, they had a translation. Offered were balck beans, gizzard with patato, cow stuck, passion fruit mouse, and corn gruel.

All fabulous!

Tomorrow we drop some things off at the new apartment and pick up keys for a Monday move in.