Well, they don’t beat around the bush at this miniature Brazilian joint. They tell you right in the name exactly what it is they serve. The issue here is that Mr. Hipster isn’t a huge fan of beans, and doesn’t like his rice to taste like flower petals–a strange effect to be sure. Now, why, you might ask yourself, would this asshole go to a place with the word beans in the name if he doesn’t dig beans? Wouldn’t it be like a normal person going to a place called Chicken ‘n’ Garbage or Steak ‘n’ Rat Feces? No, not quite. I figure I go to Indian restaurants where I only eat about two things on the entire menu, so why not try out this place? Plus, they have a menu posted outside the door, and I spied some chicken that didn’t feature beans–they merely came on the side with the aforementioned flower-tasting rice (which wasn’t mentioned on the menu). The chicken breast itself was floating in some sort of orangey-yellow viscous liquid that tasted vaguely of garlic and grease. It must have been cooked at a really high temperature, as it seemed to have shrunk up to pigeon size by the time it made its way to me. The over abundance of pigeons in the neighborhood didn’t exactly ease my trepidation. Well, if it was indeed one of our dirty, scavenging friends, it was the best tasting winged rat I’ve ever tasted. Of course, that ain’t saying much if you think about it. The two plantains on top of my rice helped the situation a little bit, but couldn’t help overcome the disappointment I felt when I spied that little clucker in the sad take-out tin. Maybe there are some folks out there who like frijoles (however you say that in Portuguese) a little more than I do and can benefit from their filling properties in order to round out a spicy little meal. [MF]
744 9th Ave.