Knife and skewer show

Too old for Chuck E. Cheese but miss the crazed energy? On a high-protein diet and want to push the envelope? Want to be an extra in a knife-thrower’s act?

You’re going to love Fogo de Chao (3101 Piedmont Road, 404-995-9982). This churrascaria — basically a Brazilian steakhouse — has attracted rave reviews from other local critics, as well as ones in Dallas and Houston, where the company operates restaurants with the same name. Three others are operated in Brazil.

I visited recently with my friends Will Bonner and Jay and Michele Botwinick. Friends from the gym, the Botwinicks and I have been trying to arrange a meal together for, oh, maybe five years. The problem is that Jay, a power lifter, has the palate of a mountain lion and I, of course, enjoy dining on creatures and plants from unfamiliar eco-systems. Thus, as soon as we were seated at Fogo de Chao, he announced: “I know you’re going to hate this because there are no monkey brains on the menu.” Everyone laughed. It was his one good line of the evening.

He was partly correct. Let me say at the outset that the grilled meat is delicious. It really is. But the experience is a Brazilian fire drill. And here’s a bit of weirdness: The restaurant is almost devoid of atmosphere in exactly the way most of Buckhead wraps itself in vapidity. True, the waiters are outfitted in gaucho costumes but there is otherwise nothing besides the “colors of the Brazilian soil” and the food to evoke Brazil. The music is especially horrible.

You can probably guess why the ambience is bland. At $35.50 a head ($19.50 at lunch) and smack-dab in the middle of Buckhead, the restaurant is appealing to an expense-account crowd, folks who want very little kink with their cooking. My father used to travel constantly on business and once told me that he got so sick of eating bad food in expensive restaurants that he finally stopped ordering anything but steak. I think Fogo de Chao is perfect for people who have reached that despondent state.

Here’s how it works. First you visit the salad bar, where you should graze ever so lightly. There’s good stuff among a staggering range of textures and flavors, from bitter endive to oily olives, smoked salmon (with watercress sauce) and salty salami. There’s crunchy asparagus and al dente hearts of palm. There’s rice and beans and mixed greens, marinated designer mushrooms, oils and vinegars you’ve never seen.

But I warn you, eat light from this display designed to look like a huge traditional kitchen table. As soon as you clear the salad from your plate, the knife and skewer show starts. The waiters (who, according to a press kit, are trained in Brazil for two years), begin arriving with meat on skewers, big knives flashing about your head. When I walked to the restroom I almost committed involuntary hara kiri by bumping into one racing to a table.

You are instructed to use a pair of tongs to grab the meat as it is sliced from the skewer. “Just a small piece!” Will kept crying, like the waiter who keeps pressing the “wafer-thin mint” that makes the diner explode when he finally relents in the Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life.

The offerings are amazing. There’s rump steak, by far the best beef, along with beef ribs, (incredibly delicious) lamb chops, leg of lamb, pork loin, sausage, filet mignon, sirloin, chicken wrapped in bacon, pork ribs and probably more. All of it is brought to the table directly from the grill, hot, slightly charred and sizzling. Nothing is heavily seasoned or marinated. It’s all deliciously pure.

Still, I burned out very rapidly in this frenetic food race. You are given a tag, red on one side and green on the other, by which to pace the waiters’ visits like a stoplight, but, unless the entire table agrees to slow things down, the tags are often ignored or forgotten.

Side dishes include very mediocre fried yucca and mashed potatoes and very nice glazed whole sauteed plantains. Cheese bread belongs at Shoney’s.

Being such a light and picky eater and spending much of our 90 minutes at the table sipping coffee while my three companions made sure they got more than their money’s worth, I couldn’t face dessert, but I did sample theirs. The creme brûlée and chocolate cake are good but throw you out of whatever Brazilian vibe you’ve managed to catch. By far the best choice is a cold papaya cream.

Will I go back? Yes, when my father comes to town on business next. I will always prefer the leisurely gait at Bone’s.

Night from hell
On a recent Friday night, with both of us on deadlines, Wayne and I decided to run out for something quick to eat. We chose our fave burger joint, Miss Ann’s Snack Shop, on Memorial. As usual, we took our seats at the bar and waited until Miss Ann finished orders in front of us to acknowledge that we’d even come in. “Problem is,” she said after we’d perched there 15 minutes, “I’m out of ground beef.” M’kay.

We drove quite a distance to Taqueria del Sol, where we found a line snaking into the middle of the parking lot. M’kay. We left.

We went to nearby Cantina Nuevo Laredo where there was a crowd waiting for the restaurant’s killer mole. The host told us it would be 30 minutes. Considering our luck so far, we decided to wait. An hour later, she told us it would be no more than 15 more minutes. We waited, still no table. “It’s not my fault people aren’t leaving when they should,” she told me. M’kay. We left.

We drove back to Taqueria del Sol and had a killer meal at the bar. Three hours later we were home from our “quick” meal.

Contact Cliff Bostock at 404-688-5623, ext. 1504, with your restaurant tips and comments.??