June 5, 2010 § 2 Comments
My love affair with pão de queijo began about a month ago at Fogo de Chao. We’d gone to celebrate a delicious end to college, despite my parents reluctance to drive into Federal Triangle. The restaurant is a spectacle itself, gauchos–complete with (real?) Brazilian accents–run around the store with huge cuts of steak, pork, and lamb, happily shoveling heaps of heart-attack-inducing marbleized slabs of meat onto your plate. But the pão, oh the pão came steaming to your table, piled in a basket, lasting only minutes as Evan and I fought each other for the final pieces. It was stretchy, chewy, cheesy, and crusty. It was everything I’d ever wanted.