I walked in hungry. Like, silly hungry. The kind where your jacket still on, but your nose already follows the grill smoke. Warm light. Big skewers by the fire. I could hear the knives scrape. That sound made me smile. You know what? I was ready.
For a detailed recount of another carnivore’s epic evening at the same churrascaria, check out this first-person review.
If you're curious about how this rodizio style fits into broader Brazilian food culture, take a quick look at Brazzil Magazine. You can also browse the flavorful diary “The Taste of Brazil: A Week on My Plate” to see how everyday dishes compare to an all-you-can-eat feast.
That little card trick
They gave me a coaster. Green on one side, red on the other. Simple. Flip to green, the gauchos come by with meat. Flip to red, they pause. I liked the control. It felt like a game, but also like traffic control for my stomach.
First sips, first bites
I started with a lime caipirinha. Cold, tart, a little sweet. It cut through the smoke. Then I took a lap at the salad bar. Not to fill up—learned that the hard way once—but to warm up:
- Hearts of palm (tender, salty)
- Fresh mozzarella and tomato
- Smoked salmon that didn’t taste fishy
- A spoon of farofa for later (tastes like toasty sand, in a good way)
They brought pão de queijo—cheese bread—hot and chewy. Soft inside, crisp outside. I could’ve eaten a basket. I didn’t. I tried to be wise. Key word: tried.
The meats keep coming (and coming)
Here’s the thing. The pacing felt tight, like good front-of-house flow. No long gaps. No rush, either. When my card was green, the table had action.
- Picanha: The top sirloin cap. Juicy, with that fat edge. I asked for medium rare, and the gaucho sliced from the pink center. Perfect bite. I salted it with my own happy tears. Kidding. Kind of.
- Garlic beef: Bold. A touch salty. Great with rice and black beans, which I ordered on the side.
- Lamb chops: Tender and a little earthy. They had a crisp edge. I like lamb, but it can be strong. This wasn’t.
- Ribeye: Marbled and rich. Two slices were enough. My fork paused. My brain went, “One more?” My hand said yes.
- Chicken wrapped in bacon: Smoky, juicy, safe pick for folks who don’t like red meat.
- Brazilian sausage: Snappy casing. Good char. A bit salty on its own, but it sings with chimichurri.
I thought I was full. I wasn’t. Then came the grilled pineapple. Cinnamon dusted. Warm and sweet. It reset my taste buds, like a tiny vacation.
Small quirks I noticed
Not everything was perfect. Some servers carved a bit fast, which made two slices thinner than I like. One pass of the garlic beef came out salt-heavy; the next pass was better. So yeah, minor swings. But when I asked for picanha again, they brought a fresh skewer and cut the middle for me. That fix earned points.
Service with a smile (and a knife)
Our gauchos were friendly. One taught me to mix the farofa with black beans and a splash of meat juice. Sounds odd. Tastes great. Our water glasses stayed full. Plates got cleared fast. The manager checked in once, not pushy, just “How’s the cut?” I appreciated that. For more diner perspectives on the staff and vibe, take a look at this detailed Brasas Do Brazil review on TripAdvisor.
The room felt lively, but not loud. Families, birthdays, date nights. Someone sang. I clapped with sauce on my hands. Classy? Maybe not. Honest? Very.
All that flirty energy over skewers and caipirinhas reminded me that good food often sparks more than conversation. If you’re curious about how people once looked beyond mainstream dating apps for spontaneous meet-ups, the infamous Craigslist personals scene is a fascinating rabbit hole; this deep-dive on Craigslist hookups unpacks how those connections worked, the safety lessons learned, and which modern alternatives can keep your post-picanha chemistry rolling without the guesswork.
In fact, if you’d rather keep the momentum going at a chic, low-lit lounge instead of swiping on your phone, consider slipping up the road to Tryst in Frisco where a quick read of their insider overview will clue you in on the dress code, signature cocktails, and peak DJ hours—perfect intel for turning dinner buzz into a full-tilt night out.
Money talk, real quick
It’s not cheap. It’s an all-you-can-eat vibe, and you pay for the show and the quality. My tip: go hungry. Make a reservation on weekends. You can preview the full rodizio menu or book a table directly through Brasas Do Brazil's official website. Share a dessert. We split the papaya cream. It tasted like a cold sunset—soft, silky, with a hint of liqueur. And if you have a sweet tooth, you’ll appreciate this candid piece on Brazilian cocoa culture: “My Honest Take on Brazil Chocolate: Sweet Wins, Small Misses”.
What I loved
- Picanha cooked right, on request
- Grilled pineapple as a palate break
- Cheese bread that stayed warm
- Salad bar with hearts of palm and good salmon
- Gauchos who listen when you say “medium rare, please”
What bugged me a bit
- A couple meats leaned salty
- Thin slices on one round
- Parking was tight when we arrived, though we found a spot after one loop
Tiny tips that help
- Flip to red when you want a breather; they’ll wait
- Ask for the center cut of picanha if you like it pink
- Save room for the pineapple
- Pair rich cuts with black beans and farofa—great balance
- Early dinner slots feel calmer, with cleaner pacing
Final bite
Brasas Do Brazil gave me that happy, smoky, meat-sweat grin. It’s a feast, but it’s also a rhythm: green, slice, chew, smile, red, sip, and reset. I left full, not stuffed, which shocked me. Would I go back? Yep. I’d bring friends, wave that green card with a little swagger, and chase the picanha like it’s my job.