Restaurants like Texas de Brazil
Exactly what else can we say about a $100-a-head, 300-seat restaurant without a coat-check area in dead of winter season?
Well, in reality, we could state more. Far more.
During my restaurant-reviewing annals, a number of howlers stick out.
Bear in mind man Fieri’s instances Square laugh riot, or Masaharu Morimoto’s Tribeca Canvas, in which ranch sauce seemed the sole ingredient?
But there’s absolutely nothing funny about Tx de Brazil, satellite of a rodízio-style (all-you-can-eat) steakhouse sequence in which supper per person begins at $59.95 before plastic-tasting dessert or watered-down beverages.
I became tempted by Texas de Brazil, gleaming brightly over Third Avenue. It flaunts Wine Spectator awards and a 24 score for food within the Zagat Survey, which cited a “fun” knowledge.
The fun on a freezing evening started: “whenever you’re all here, inform me and I’ll seat you.” I shivered nearby the door for ten full minutes before we had been ushered towards suburban-blah upstairs dining area, strewn with cumbersome coats piled in empty chairs. (Perv alert: The men’s space door couldn’t be shut because it had been an inch wider compared to door frame.)
Associated with the candlight salad bar’s “50 to 60 regular items, ” roughly 50 to 55 would embarrass a Bronx bodega buffet — rawhide-tough bacon and sun-dried tomatoes and lettuces to their last legs.
I don’t know where they obtain animal meat, but we are able to eliminate “artisanal” ranches.
Roadhouse-grade flank steak and filet mignon provided way to bone-dry, completely flavor-free pork tenderloin and concrete-dense, yucca-flour-coated “pork stomach.” The sole readily available lubricants were greasy, isolated chimichurri sauce and near-liquid mint jelly.
Fatty, sinewy leg of lamb defeated a steak knife’s efforts to cut it. Beef-pork sausage approached mediocrity if we sawed through triceratops-hide casing.
Asked to determine a mozzarella cheese factor attached to reheated-tasting chicken “Parmesan, ” the waiter apologized that it was their “first day.”
However hungry, I gagged regarding pretip bill of $199.22 for just two. But the enjoyable had beenn’t over.
Two managers in suits established into the thing I first took for a slow-motion dance, but was in fact their prolonged make an effort to “clean” a floor by dragging wet paper towels across it with their legs.