After a leisurely lie-in, we head up to the Sky restaurant for breakfast, which thankfully (and I’m thinking most civilized-ly) is included with our room. The buffet spread reminds me of my first trip to Brazil and the fact that breakfast for locals is something like a cup of coffee and pao de queso (a lovely little round roll made from manioc flour and cheese) or a slice of cake. They’re so darn paleo, NOT!
At 11 am, we are met by Vicky, a culinary tour guide that I found on Trip Adviser through “Around São Paulo” tours. She was a delight, and made us realize what a lame-ass we have for our A&K selected guide. We drive through the city in her car, as she gives us a brief history of the origins of the town (and now I understand a few things our guide tried to explain) as well as how the different groups that founded the country contributed to the gastronomic specialities of each area. We go through really nice residential neighborhoods and the “Rodeo Drive” shopping street and start to form a much different impression of São Paulo than we had previously.
Our first stop is at a weekend open-air market right outside the stadium. We sample various fruits. How many varieties of naners do you think there are, honey?
5 just at this stand! and share a prize-winning pastel. This is a lightly fried pocket of dough that is about 4″x7″ and stuffed with a wide variety of items. We select our guide’s favorite: sliced tomato, oregano and cheese. Love it!
She explains how this is from the influence of a large number of Japanese who immigrated when there was a drought in Japan. It’s an adaptation of the dumplings (gyoza) that the Japanese make. We also sample a lovely, freshly made (we watched) fresh sugar cane juice with lemon squeezed in. Mmmmm….
Off again in her little car, we head over to the largest municipal market: the Mercadao. It’s the Brazilian version of the market in Budapest that Lance and I visited. So many varieties of strange fish (piraña! leopard spotted fish!),
what are those funky pig parts?:
the usual cheeses and cured meats,
and stands that sell everything that goes into the national dish of feijoda (handed down from the slaves, who only received the leftover parts of the pig and beans). We walk and marvel and then head up the stairs to the restaurants to sample the world-famous mortadella sandwiches (they think they’re big, but they obviously haven’t been to the Carnegie!) with melted cheese and a bacala croquette.
I sample a light and dark beer (just loving that dark beer!) and we add another couple of notches to the culinary belt.
We make our way through the crowds and out of there and back into the car. She stops us at a stand and asks us if we recognize the fruit we see. No. It’s a cacao, which we sample. A soft white fleshy fruit with the actual nut on the inside.
Next stop: the recently establishes gourmet store for Brazilian “brigadier” candy, which is basically a ball of reduced sweetened condensed milk (like a very soft caramel) rolled in all kinds of finishes: pistachio, almond, crisped rice flavored with dark chocolate, salted caramel, etc etc. Just okay for us chocoholics.
On the way there, she takes us for a quick spin through Vila Madalena, a delightful residential neighborhood with plenty of character and the Beco de Batman (which is on our schedule for tomorrow). We stop at a restaurant on the other side of the alley, and go in to sample a few deserts.
Mom and I are asking what the different dishes are that people are enjoying, hoping to return and try some. They even walk over to some folks to chat with them about what they’re having – so Charlotte!
We pass on the option to stop at the specialty cheese shop (no more room at the inn!) and head back to the hotel. Vicky asks if we’d like to go to dinner Sunday with she and a friend, and we immediately accept. Reservations at a fancy restaurant will be canceled in favor of following the local custom of pizza for dinner on Sunday.
Plenty of time to relax at the hotel today. I take a short nap, then go to the gym to use the treadmill (a lovely workout area, indoor pool with a slide, sauna, etc) and then back upstairs to shower and get ready for our dinner at DOM, ranked 4th in the world by the industry-only Restaurant Guide (my birthday lunch in Vienna at Steirereck was ranked 17th). Out we go and are ushered into a lovely, dark, incredibly high-ceilinged establishment. We are not the only ones there, but restaurant is mostly empty. I see the bread at the center table and am immediately disappointed. I tell myself not to tell any stories, nor to compare my lunch experience with this one. Mom and I sit, we order cocktails and examine the menu. As is the usual case at such places, there is a choice to go vegetarian, 4 courses or 8. We both choose 4, and then the show begins. The amuse bouche is comprised of a celery cream spread sitting in olive oil, as well as a roasted garlic/mashed potato smear across the plate, and butter. Meh. Bread: meh. A course (a bite) of roasted manioc (a root vegetable that is used in so many different ways as a staple of their diet) that is nice, but fairly flavorless to me. Meh. 3 sea scallops in coconut milk with grated (some kind of nut) on top that was incredibly delicious. I take a bite and comment that they’ve really stepped up their game.
I close my eyes and enjoy every bite. Plate whisked away, and new flatware that comes with each course, and we get a plate with roasted heart of palm (that turns a lovely gold color when cooked) and lap that up. BTW, that’s an anchovy sticking out from underneath!
Pretty, pretty, pretty good. Next up, a giant prawn that is on roasted kale cream. A bit salty and a bit overcooked? Meh. Then, as a palate cleanser, we have one raw, Amazonian ant (yes!) and another that is on a small slice of pineapple. Before you squeal, I have to say that the raw ant (dried, but not cooked) has a flavor redolent of lemongrass and mint, believe it or not!
Next up is the pan-roasted fish with some kind of broth poured over.
Sorry for the fairly inept descriptions, but didn’t get any lovely little info guides, nor were the courses listed on the menu. They use local ingredients and produce whatever hits their fancy. The fish was very delicious and up to the standards I was expecting. Next (yes, we are well over 4, but the chef was feeling generous) is a roasted bit of lamb, with mini-cubes of zucchini on the side.
The tank is getting full, but this one is a winner as well. Didn’t finish it, but thoroughly enjoyed. Next is the cheese course, but instead of actual cheese, it’s a whipped potato concoction with some kind of cheese mixed in. Really? Then is dessert: hazelnut cake with chocolate sauce and whiskey ice cream. Meh. I tell mom that if we don’t get the pleasure of eating food we think is at the 4th best restaurant in the world, we can have the snob’s pleasure of poo-poo-ing the (ranked) 4th best restaurant in the world!!
After we’re done, I pay the check (my treat!) and we get in a cab and head to Jazz nos Fundos, to hear a lovely trio chaired by the female drummer. The spot looks way sketchy, back in a parking lot, we walk into a covered garage/parking area, turn left and walk into the club. We each get a piece of paper with our name on it, and we use this for ordering drinks or food and then pay as we exit. There are tables in the back, for eating and chatting with friends, and old, wooden movie rows of seats (only 4 across) for about rows, and then the trio in the corner under some wicked bombed-out looking walls.
It really feels like we’re in with the locals here! We thoroughly enjoyed the music through the set, and then walked to the corner and hailed a cab. Home again in no time. Yay mommy for going on the adventure!