Fogo de Chão

We came to Fogo de Chão on a Tuesday because the calendar was kinder than the weekend. The room was three-quarters full and somehow more honest for it.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: gaucho service in a polished glass dining room. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with chopped salad with too much bacon, exactly right, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered Rioja gran reserva, decanted at the table, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: picanha, the dish that puts Fogo de Chão on every short list. It was, frankly, the best version of this cut I have had this year. The signature touch — the rodízio of fifteen cuts on skewers — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for hash browns the size of a hubcap and broiled tomato with a breadcrumb cap. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was panna cotta with stewed cherries, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

I will be back. With company, next time, and a longer reservation.