A caravel—“caravela” in Portuguese—was a 15th-century ship used by the country’s explorers. The vessel’s small size made it easy to navigate along the coast of Africa and into the Atlantic Ocean. The ship not only gives Caravela its name, but also represents the eatery’s menu, a transatlantic meeting of Portuguese and Brazilian fare. The majority of the selection comes from the sea, too. Shrimp caravela, for one, has jumbo prawns swimming in a lemon-cognac butter sauce. The grilled swordfish is drizzled with a spicy baiana sauce derived from Brazilian cuisine. Of course, there are options for those not craving seafood: chefs fire pork chops, racks of lamb, and filets mignons. The staff serves all of this in a dining room with a nautical theme modeled after Captain Hook’s room at the retirement home.
You'll never feel more like a Brazilian cowboy than the moment you take your seat at Copacabana Steakhouse. As you tuck in, fork and knife in hand, waiters pass by carrying 14 different styles of slow-roasted meat still sizzling on their skewers. Upon your signal, they shave portions of top sirloin, Brazilian sausage, leg of lamb, and barbecue chicken straight onto your plate. This meat parade, or rodizio, mimics the communal feasts of the 20th-century gauchos who settled in the grasslands of Southern Brazil with their massive herds of Carnival parade floats. As they eat, diners sip bold South American red wines that complement the flavors of the steak. For guests who aren't looking for an all-you-can-eat smorgasbord, the churrascaria also serves single portions of its meats paired with hearts of palm and fresh veggies from the salad bar.
Brazilian native Ivan Utrera came to the United States with a stack of family recipes and an idea for serving bottomless portions of rotisserie-grilled meats. That style of eating, similar to that in a churrascaria, has been popular in Brazil for many years. Rodizio Grill has since expanded to several locations, where servers armed with giant skewers of marinated pork loin and beef saturated in garlic travel around the dining room, carving off the meat tableside. The chefs also slow-cook on the grill and expertly season Brazilian sausages, lamb, chicken hearts, and pineapples. Much like a list of terrible babysitters, the selection of adventurous meats often includes rattlesnake, bison, and wild boar.
Wielding knives and sword-like skewers, the servers at Texas de Brazil seem prepared for impromptu duels. However, they only brandish the blades to replenish dinner plates, slicing meat from their spears at the behest of each table. The cuts of steak, lamb, and brazilian sausage are all slow roasted over an open flame in traditional churrascaria fashion—a technique that stems from the campfire meals of Brazilian gauchos, and one that fed the family behind Texas de Brazil during their life in Porto Alegre. In an effort to bring the South American style to the States, they established their first restaurant in Texas, thereby merging down-home charm with Brazilian spice.
Today, Texas de Brazil has expanded to several award-winning locations across the country. Despite the lofty ceilings and chandeliers that characterize their venues, the staff remains rooted in ranchers' habits. They conscientiously grill and season their meat, bake brazilian cheese bread in-house, and pass classic cocktails and loaner saddles over the bar for cowboys who consider chairs unnatural. To complement savory bites, guests can browse more than 50 gourmet sides at the salad bar—a compendium of soups, vegetables, and appetizers such as imported cheeses. They can also ask the resident wine specialist for recommendations on suitable pairings from the cellar.
Wrapped in the aromatic embrace of Zona Sul Churrascaria’s smoldering barbecue pit, up to four friends gather over unending portions of Brazilian meats, rice, and vegetables. Diners pile thick slices of meat onto their plates as they gaze in wonder at the crackling sirloin steaks and pork sausages skewered on spits over the flames. Beef ribs line up in rows as foursomes hammer out xylophonic bossa nova songs with their forks, and chicken thighs strut to samba beats on palate dance floors. A bountiful salad bar complements the orchestra of sizzling proteins with rice, green vegetables, and whole onions painted to resemble soccer balls.
Two longtime residents, nurse Audrey Hochroth and her husband, contractor Sal Barone, grew weary of traversing the bridge to Manhattan whenever they wanted a good steak. So in 2009, they opened Augie’s Prime Cut—a local place their neighbors could go for delicious steak-house fare, such as slow-roasted prime rib, dry-aged porterhouse steaks cut by hand, and fresh lobster plucked from the tank, without driving to the city or kidnapping a steak-house chef. Audrey recently told the Examiner News that so many customers flock to Augie’s Prime Cut on the weekends that they had to open a new 18-table area upstairs—Augie's Loft—to avoid turning people away.