Imagine if you were attending a local festival celebrating your culture. Perhaps it is a bit of a mini-family reunion where your extended family has traveled to join in the festivities. As you are seated around your table waiting for food, someone approaches the table to tell you that there are foreigners present and they need a place to sit.
Would you welcome them to your table?
Let me tell you about my Sunday.
Early in the week we had been told by some friends about a festival taking place just outside the city. Costela ao Fogo de Chão festival, or more a way of cooking and eating, that celebrates the Brazilian Gaucho, cowboys typical to South America and from what I’ve learned most prominent in the south of country. You will likely hear of them in Argentina too which creates a bit of a rivalry from what I hear.
We made the decision to attend the festival after Sunday turned out to be a beautiful day and arrived to look around, not exactly sure what we were in for. We knew the costela (ribs) were a big draw, but we didn’t know what else was involved. The day turned out to be quite the cultural and culinary adventure, one we weren’t at all expecting.
We soon found a gymnasium-type facility decked out in colorful decorations, overflowing with people and filled with dinner tables. In the middle of each table was a round base, and in this base was a massive piece of cow rib.
Throughout the dining rooms there were tables set up with vinaigrette (tomatoes with onion, lime juice and parsley), lettuce, mandioca (yucca, manioc), rice, farofa (toasted mandioca flour with bacon, onion and corn) and rolls. The idea was to surround your table with family and friends, fill your plate from the salad bar and then feast off the slab of ribs elevated in the center of the table.
We weren’t exactly sure how things worked. Many of the tables were reserved and we had started to think that it was a private event or maybe that we needed to have made reservations. Finally we saw a gentleman dressed in gaucho attire and we decided to ask him what we were supposed to do and if we could eat.
Immediately he asked us if we were German (as usual). My husband told him we were from the US and from that point things just happened so fast. Before we knew it he had grabbed a lady who happened to be an English teacher. She was asking us if we had someplace to sit and told us to hold on while she found the boss.
It turns out that the boss was the head of the CTG (Centros de Tradições Gaúchas) organization. He appeared very happy to see us and in a few minutes we were directed to the table of his family. As it turned out two members spoke English and even though my husband told them he spoke Portuguese and I spoke a little they continued to communicate with us in English. Incredibly hospitable, in my opinion. They were having a bit of a family reunion and let us know that their family was from Rio Grande de Sul (known for gaucho traditions) and had moved to both Curitiba and Maringá.
I have to say it was the most welcoming, gracious experience I have had in our two years here. Looking back, the whole event and how we were treated was unbelievable. Here we were complete strangers, foreigners at that, and we were simply wondering if we could get a table to eat. They welcomed us to the experience, and were clearly excited for us to witness a piece of their culture. We were even addressed during the announcements!
So let’s talk about this costela (the rib meat of the cow) as it was certainly the main attraction at this event. Our new friends told us that the ribs are salted the night before and then the cooking begins about 5:00 a.m. over the open flame. That means they cooked for about seven hours before making it to the table. Fogo de Chão, which you may be familiar with because it is the name of a popular chain of Brazilian restaurants in the US, is roughly translated fire of the floor, or fire of the earth.
The meat was coming out all over the place, and if you weren’t carefully, chances are you would get bumped in the backside with a big slab coming out on a long metal pole with a sharp hook which the meat was attached too. From there, on the table it goes and the designated carver slices off pieces for everyone around the table.
The meat itself was just okay. This was much more about the experience itself. It was very, very fatty and resembled a roast beef like my mom makes at home with the carrots and potatoes. I can appreciate the fact that it is loved around here though. I just can’t eat it like most Brazilians do, fat and all. I carefully picked around the fat to get to the better meat. As is the case at most parties here, a second portion was practically forced upon us, but after that I was done for sure. The rice, vinaigrette and farofa were much more to my liking.
At dinner the family was telling us about their horse. He was described as a champion and after we ate we went out with a large group of people to walk through the stalls and take some pictures of him. We were met by a barn full of horses, some wanting a bit of attention, others content to eat their hay and still others a bit moody.
The champion’s name turned out to be Zeus. Zeus fully met the criteria of being a self-confident champion. He was bit irritated at being bothered during his hay munching. As one of the men teased him a little, I have never in my life seen a horse practically bust through a stall gate to try to bite someone. Zeus may have been beautiful, but he was not all that friendly. In fact, they closed up the stall and I didn’t even get a picture. He looked like his day was going bad enough already and I didn’t think a photo would sit too well given his current mood.
We did meet some other friendly horses. The names were the best part because many of them were in English. My husband really liked Cowboy.
Hanna was my favorite; a sweet girl with her head out of the stall welcoming anyone who passed by to give her a scratch. I couldn’t help but laugh when two young boys walked up to give her hay and started calling her Hannah Montana. Apparently she is popular here too.
What a completely unexpected day. In fact, until about 10 minutes before, we weren’t even sure we would go. I’m so glad we did and it makes me wonder if I’ll ever have the opportunity to return this type of hospitality and cultural experience to a complete stranger someday.
This culture and culinary experience was a good fit for both my blogs so you’ll find this cross-posted at Blondie in Brazil.
