Choice Tables
In São Paulo, Brazilian Cuisine Is Back on the Table
Lalo de Almeida for The New York Times
At D.O.M., Alex Atala creates dishes like a gel with green tomatoes, coriander seeds, Peruvian corn and Amazonian aromatic herbs.
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LinkedinDiggFacebookMixxMySpaceYahoo! BuzzPermalinkBy SETH KUGEL
Published: May 17, 2009
HERE’S a novel idea: When in São Paulo, eat Brazilian food.
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São Paulo’s Culinary Roots
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São Paulo, Brazil Well, perhaps not so novel for gastronomes who travel to Milan for osso buco, the French Riviera for bouillabaisse or the Yucatán for cochinita pibil. But for the Brazilian business capital’s restaurant-crazy natives — who can’t stop raving about the Italian bistro Due Cuochi Cucina and are quite sure Aizomê serves the best sashimi outside of Japan — that may be an odd concept.
The abundant praise for São Paulo’s dining scene has historically focused on its global range. Brazilian food, meanwhile, is what you eat at home or in rural roadside pit stops or at restaurants serving dirt-cheap, starch-heavy lunch specials known as “pratos feitos” (literally, “made plates”).
But the idea that Brazilian cuisine can hold its own is slowly taking hold in São Paulo, thanks to a new generation of chefs looking outward for technique but inward for ingredients and tradition. Attuned to the necessities of presentation by their (mostly) European training and conscious that the heaviness of traditional Brazilian dishes will never pass muster with the gym-going elite, they have created a movement that has given their own nation a new sense of pride in its culinary heritage.
They have also adopted a loose version of the locavore philosophy: sure, those cupuaçu fruits were shipped thousands of miles from the Amazon, but at least they didn’t go through customs.
And for visitors, there is a fringe benefit of these chefs’ efforts: a way in to the richness of a country that is simply too big to eat your way around during any reasonable vacation.
At the forefront of the movement is Alex Atala, the chef at D.O.M., a restaurant that vaulted him to international fame for using Brazilian ingredients in majestically executed contemporary dishes. One example: scallops marinated in coconut milk with a crispy mango chip (resembling a dragonfly wing).
But Mr. Atala’s second restaurant, Dalva e Dito (Rua Padre João Manoel, 1115; 55-11-3064-6183; www.dalvaedito.com.br), which opened in January, focuses on simpler, more typically Brazilian dishes. In essence, the prix-fixe executive lunch for 47 reais (about $22 at 2.2 reais to the dollar) is a prato feito of rice, beans and meat at about eight times the price and a hundred times the quality.
Partly for this reason, Dalva e Dito is not the ideal place for the uninitiated to sample this new wave of native cuisine. If you haven’t grown up on — or at least regularly consumed — codfish croquettes, rice and beans, and the ubiquitous manioc-based farofa, much of the place’s charm will be lost on you. It’s kind of like having one of Daniel Boulud’s foie-gras-and-truffle-stuffed burgers when you’ve never been to McDonald’s.
A better place to start is Brasil a Gosto (Rua Prof. Azevedo de Amaral, 70; 55-11-3086-3565; www.brasilagosto.com.br), a modestly elegant two-story restaurant that unloads an avalanche of flavors and textures and experiences without intimidating.
The place is modern and tasteful yet completely unpretentious, with only a few visual bells and whistles, like screens showing video of traditional cooking techniques from across rural Brazil. They are scenes that the chef, Ana Luiza Trajano, encountered as she barnstormed Brazil while writing a book (also called “Brasil a Gosto”) and collecting recipes for the restaurant.
I first visited Brasil a Gosto with Arnaldo Lorençato, the restaurant editor for Veja São Paulo magazine, which named it the best Brazilian restaurant in the city only eight months after it opened. We started with a caipirinha cocktail, with big slices of cashew fruit instead of the traditional lime, then moved on to an appetizer platter of tapioca crisps with an accompanying creamy coconut-and-crab mix to slather on; a lollipop of grilled, cubed cheese known as queijo coalho drizzled with molasses; and slices of sweet plantain with a dab of pepper sauce (16 reais a person).
But what transformed the place into my favorite restaurant in São Paulo, where I’ve lived since December, was the baru-crusted sea bass (48 reais). Baru nuts, which come from the cerrado of Brazil and are unknown even to many inhabitants of that vast savannah, have a peanut-like taste but the rich substance of a cashew or almond. Ms. Trajano crushes them and adds in butter and bread crumbs before placing a thick layer on the fish. The bass, in turn, sits on top of a purée of plantain and an orange vinaigrette.
Suckers for flavor and texture contrasts, please note: that’s rich-and-crusty on light-and-flaky on sweet-and-mushy on sharp-and-citrusy.
The bass was not the only standout; the second time I went, my friend Zack hit the jackpot with a fillet of pirarucu — a white-fleshed Amazonian fish — served with a purée of squash and sweet potato. Just as good as it was unusual was a pork loin served with a sauce made from the sweet, pulpy jabuticaba, a Brazilian fruit that’s as fun to pronounce (zhah-boo-chee-CAH-bah) as it is to eat.
Long before Brasil a Gosto appeared on the scene, there was Tordesilhas (Rua Bela Cintra, 465; 55-11-3107-7444; www.tordesilhas.com), where Mara Salles has toiled for two decades to raise Brazilian food to a grander stage. And unlike Brasil a Gosto, it goes for a rustic feel — appropriately, since it’s tucked quietly into an old yellow house on Rua Bela Cintra, in an area that hops at night.
1 2 Next Page
In São Paulo, Brazilian Cuisine Is Back on the Table
Lalo de Almeida for The New York Times
At D.O.M., Alex Atala creates dishes like a gel with green tomatoes, coriander seeds, Peruvian corn and Amazonian aromatic herbs.
Sign in to Recommend
Sign In to E-Mail
Single Page
Reprints
ShareClose
LinkedinDiggFacebookMixxMySpaceYahoo! BuzzPermalinkBy SETH KUGEL
Published: May 17, 2009
HERE’S a novel idea: When in São Paulo, eat Brazilian food.
Skip to next paragraph
Sao Paulo Travel Guide
Where to Stay
Where to Eat
What to Do
Go to the Sao Paulo Travel Guide »
Multimedia
Slide Show
São Paulo’s Culinary Roots
Map
São Paulo, Brazil Well, perhaps not so novel for gastronomes who travel to Milan for osso buco, the French Riviera for bouillabaisse or the Yucatán for cochinita pibil. But for the Brazilian business capital’s restaurant-crazy natives — who can’t stop raving about the Italian bistro Due Cuochi Cucina and are quite sure Aizomê serves the best sashimi outside of Japan — that may be an odd concept.
The abundant praise for São Paulo’s dining scene has historically focused on its global range. Brazilian food, meanwhile, is what you eat at home or in rural roadside pit stops or at restaurants serving dirt-cheap, starch-heavy lunch specials known as “pratos feitos” (literally, “made plates”).
But the idea that Brazilian cuisine can hold its own is slowly taking hold in São Paulo, thanks to a new generation of chefs looking outward for technique but inward for ingredients and tradition. Attuned to the necessities of presentation by their (mostly) European training and conscious that the heaviness of traditional Brazilian dishes will never pass muster with the gym-going elite, they have created a movement that has given their own nation a new sense of pride in its culinary heritage.
They have also adopted a loose version of the locavore philosophy: sure, those cupuaçu fruits were shipped thousands of miles from the Amazon, but at least they didn’t go through customs.
And for visitors, there is a fringe benefit of these chefs’ efforts: a way in to the richness of a country that is simply too big to eat your way around during any reasonable vacation.
At the forefront of the movement is Alex Atala, the chef at D.O.M., a restaurant that vaulted him to international fame for using Brazilian ingredients in majestically executed contemporary dishes. One example: scallops marinated in coconut milk with a crispy mango chip (resembling a dragonfly wing).
But Mr. Atala’s second restaurant, Dalva e Dito (Rua Padre João Manoel, 1115; 55-11-3064-6183; www.dalvaedito.com.br), which opened in January, focuses on simpler, more typically Brazilian dishes. In essence, the prix-fixe executive lunch for 47 reais (about $22 at 2.2 reais to the dollar) is a prato feito of rice, beans and meat at about eight times the price and a hundred times the quality.
Partly for this reason, Dalva e Dito is not the ideal place for the uninitiated to sample this new wave of native cuisine. If you haven’t grown up on — or at least regularly consumed — codfish croquettes, rice and beans, and the ubiquitous manioc-based farofa, much of the place’s charm will be lost on you. It’s kind of like having one of Daniel Boulud’s foie-gras-and-truffle-stuffed burgers when you’ve never been to McDonald’s.
A better place to start is Brasil a Gosto (Rua Prof. Azevedo de Amaral, 70; 55-11-3086-3565; www.brasilagosto.com.br), a modestly elegant two-story restaurant that unloads an avalanche of flavors and textures and experiences without intimidating.
The place is modern and tasteful yet completely unpretentious, with only a few visual bells and whistles, like screens showing video of traditional cooking techniques from across rural Brazil. They are scenes that the chef, Ana Luiza Trajano, encountered as she barnstormed Brazil while writing a book (also called “Brasil a Gosto”) and collecting recipes for the restaurant.
I first visited Brasil a Gosto with Arnaldo Lorençato, the restaurant editor for Veja São Paulo magazine, which named it the best Brazilian restaurant in the city only eight months after it opened. We started with a caipirinha cocktail, with big slices of cashew fruit instead of the traditional lime, then moved on to an appetizer platter of tapioca crisps with an accompanying creamy coconut-and-crab mix to slather on; a lollipop of grilled, cubed cheese known as queijo coalho drizzled with molasses; and slices of sweet plantain with a dab of pepper sauce (16 reais a person).
But what transformed the place into my favorite restaurant in São Paulo, where I’ve lived since December, was the baru-crusted sea bass (48 reais). Baru nuts, which come from the cerrado of Brazil and are unknown even to many inhabitants of that vast savannah, have a peanut-like taste but the rich substance of a cashew or almond. Ms. Trajano crushes them and adds in butter and bread crumbs before placing a thick layer on the fish. The bass, in turn, sits on top of a purée of plantain and an orange vinaigrette.
Suckers for flavor and texture contrasts, please note: that’s rich-and-crusty on light-and-flaky on sweet-and-mushy on sharp-and-citrusy.
The bass was not the only standout; the second time I went, my friend Zack hit the jackpot with a fillet of pirarucu — a white-fleshed Amazonian fish — served with a purée of squash and sweet potato. Just as good as it was unusual was a pork loin served with a sauce made from the sweet, pulpy jabuticaba, a Brazilian fruit that’s as fun to pronounce (zhah-boo-chee-CAH-bah) as it is to eat.
Long before Brasil a Gosto appeared on the scene, there was Tordesilhas (Rua Bela Cintra, 465; 55-11-3107-7444; www.tordesilhas.com), where Mara Salles has toiled for two decades to raise Brazilian food to a grander stage. And unlike Brasil a Gosto, it goes for a rustic feel — appropriately, since it’s tucked quietly into an old yellow house on Rua Bela Cintra, in an area that hops at night.
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