On the Road - Salvador - Pt. 7 - The SENAC Restaurant-School

In Salvador, one obligatory stop for anyone interested in Bahian gastronomy and cooking is the SENAC Restaurant-School, located in a historic colonial house on the Largo do Pelourinho, the sloped square which is the epicenter of the Bahian universe. SENAC is a national Brazilian institution which teaches vocational skills in centers throughout the country, and the Salvador Restaurant-School is part of SENAC's cooking faculty in Salvador.

The restaurant was opened in 1975, and since then has served as an introduction to classic Bahian cuisine to hundreds of thousands of tourists and as a review of the riches of the cuisine to local residents. The restaurant is open for lunch and dinner from Tuesday to Saturday, and is invariably very busy, although it's almost always possible to get a table fairly quickly. (One thing to note - there are, in fact, two SENAC buffets housed in the same mansions. On the street level is a small buffet that serves standard Brazilian dishes, those that can be found in almost any pay-by-weight restaurant in Brazil. The Bahian buffet is up two flights of stairs on the top floor of the house.)

As the restaurant fuctions as a teaching facility as well as a restaurant, the cooks, bartenders and wait staff are all students at SENAC working under the supervision of the faculty's teachers and professors. Because of its non-profit status, the school's charge for the unlimited-serving buffet is a reasonable R$40 (about USD $20). There are cheaper Bahian restaurants in town (and there are definitely more expensive, too), but at no other will you be able to sample such a wide variety of Bahian dishes in a single location. Every day there are at least forty dishes available on the buffet, including an amazing selection of traditional desserts, something that Bahian cooks have been noted for for centuries. The number of dishes one can sample is limited only by one's appetite and capacity. You'll find abará and acarajé, of course, but also almost a dozen types of moquecas - everything from traditional standards like fish and shrimp up to moqueca de fato (fato meaning entrails). There are numerous rice and bean dishes, steamed fish and vegetables, sweet potatoes, various treatments of manioc and three or four traditional Bahian pimentas (hot sauce). A word to the wise when it comes to SENAC's pimenta; the restaurant makes no concessions to non-Bahians' limited tolerance for hot peppers. SENAC's hot sauces are very hot indeed, so be careful.

The service staff is hardworking and earnest, though it must be said that as it is composed of students, the service isn't always what one might call polished or speedy. But what the waitresses and waiters may lack in velocity they make up for in charm and friendliness.

The food at SENAC is good, at times very good. It may never be the best Bahian food on the planet, but it is the spot for newcomers to Bahian food to discover which dishes they love, which ones they like and which they'd prefer not to return to. A visit to SENAC should be made early in one's trip to Salvador. Later, in other restaurants, armed with what you learned at SENAC, you can knowledgeably read a Bahian menu and revisit those dishes that particularly appealed to you.

On the Road - Salvador - Pt. 6 - Museum of Bahian Gastronomy

The Museum of Bahian Gastonomy, Largo do Pelourinho, Salvador

Located in a beautiful historic house on the most famous square in Salvador, the epicenter of Bahian culture Largo do Pelourinho, the Museum of Bahian Gastronomy (Museu da Gastronomia Baiana in Portuguese) testifies to the importance of food and cooking to Bahia's cultural identity. Opened in 2006, the museum was the very first gastronomic museum in Latin America and one of the first in the world.

Managed and operated by SENAC, a Brazilian vocational institute with branches in all major cities in Brazil, the museum is conveniently situated next door to SENAC's Faculty of Gastronomy with its famous Bahian training restaurant.

dendê display

Although the museum is small, the exibits are very well displayed with all notations and graphic material in both Portuguese and English. Display cases showcase antique cooking utensils and equipment as well as porcelain and silverware for table service. Ingredients which are essential parts of the Bahian pantry - things like grated coconut and dendê palm oil are displayed and technique for extracting and using them are demonstrated.

One door down, in the neighboring structure, the museum operates a small bookstore with an excellent supply of books on Bahian and other Brazilian cuisines, including an almost complete selection of SENAC's own cookbooks. Although most of the books are in Portuguese, those published by SENAC have English translations of their texts and recipes at the back of the book, something which is of great benefit to foreign travelers. The bookstore also has a small espresso bar.

The house on the other side of the museum, on the uphill side of the sloping Largo do Pelourinho, contains the SENAC cooking school and restaurant. Next post in our On the Road - Salvador series will feature both.

On the Road - Salvador - Pt. 5 - Dona Mariquita's Moqueca do índio

Among the numerous "endangered" dishes to be found on the menu at Restaurante Dona Mariquita in Salvador, Bahia, is an intriguing appetizer called Moqueca do índio (Indian Moqueca). (Click here to read more about endangered dishes) The dish is described on the menu as "Pititinga roasted in banana leaf with toasted manioc crisps", but there's much more to the story of the dish than that.

pititinga

Pititingas are very small silver fish found throughout northeastern Brazil - small enough that they fit in the palm of your hand. In this dish they are combined with spices and hot chili peppers, lots of them, wrapped in fresh banana leaves, roasted over coals in a tin-can oven and served with small crispy manioc crackers as an appetizer. The dish is very spicy, smoky and with a pronounced but not overwhelming fishy flavor that is balanced by the blandness of the manioc crackers. At Dona Mariquita, the moqueca is served with the fish still in its banana leaf, surrounded by crisps. Diners simply place a couple of fish on a crisp and pop the whole thing in their mouth.

According to the restaurant's website, moqueca do índio was once common in Salvador where it was one of the traditional staple dishes of the baianas who have sold acarajé on the streets of the city since time immemorial. Today the dish has completely disappeared from Salvador, except at Dona Mariquita. In the rural districts of Bahia that surround the Bay of All Saints, from which Bahia gets its name, traditional foodways have survived longer than they have in the capital,however, and it was in those districts that Dona Mariquita's owners rescued the recipe and returned it to Salvador, where it once had been so popular.

According to the bible of Brazilian historic gastronomy, História da Alimentação no Brasil, by Luís da Câmara Cascudo, moquecas (roasted or stewed fish and seafood) were eaten by indigenous tribes in Brazil long before the arrival of Europeans in the middle of the second millennium, and can lay claim to be among the most ancient dishes of Brazilian gastronomy. Thanks to the effort of Dona Mariquita you can still eat this most primitive, and most delicious, dish at her eponymous restaurant. It behooves the diner to consider the immense age of this recipe and to hope that although Moqueca do índio may be endangered, it will not become extinct.

On the Road - Salvador - Pt. 4 - Dona Mariquita's Endangered Dishes

Walk down the long narrow one-way street called Rua do Meio in Salvador's happening Rio Vermelho neighborhood, away from the leafy Largo da Mariquita square which is home to Dona Cira's best-in-the-city acarajé stand, and you'll eventually come across a small unprepossessing restaurant named Dona Mariquita. It's on the right as you leave the square and is adorned only with a simple sign with its name. It's easy to miss, or at least it was for our taxi driver on the windy and rainy night we visited Dona Mariquita recently. He had to circle around and try a second time, but armed with the address and a trusty GPS we were able to find it second time around.

Even on a damp, raw evening - a rarity in tropical Salvador - the interior of the restaurant radiated warmth, human warmth. We were greeted with a smile by the entire waitstaff (it was still early, at least by Salvador standards), given our choice of seats and were helped to settle in, candles were lit. and menus were distributed. All of which made the effort we'd made to locate Dona Mariquita on such a stormy night worthwhile. The large room felt indeed like shelter from the storm.

Dona Mariquita had been on our to-do list for Flavors of Brazil's gastronomic tour of Salvador, Bahia ever since we'd begun planning the trip a couple of months ago. It's not the most famous restaurant in the city, nor the most chic. Neither does it perpetually top social network review sites. But with limited time, we'd chosen Dona Mariquita for one of our dinners - our "traditional Bahian cuisine" dinner - for one reason. Just as Diane Fossey provided sanctuary and shelter in Africa for her beloved gorillas, or as ethno-musicologist Alan Lomax recorded folktunes and spirituals as sung by black field hands in the Southern USA before they were lost forever, Dona Mariquita has as its purpose the preservation of "endangered dishes" of traditional Bahian cuisine. We wanted to see and taste the work of this interesting gastronomic project.

Dishes and recipes, as with any other cultural object, don't always have an unlimited lifespan. Whether it's Bahian food we're talking about, or Russian, or Chinese, dishes disappear from kitchens, tables and menus of even the most traditional gastronomic cultures to be replaces by new ones. In medieval Europe, swan was a traditional banquet centerpiece, though it's almost never eaten today. Italian pasta sauces from the same period, before explorers brought tomatoes back from the New World, have been changed radically by the arrival of that fruit. Bahian food is no exception to this rule, and some dishes that were common in earlier times are just not to be found in 21st-century Salvador, or anywhere else in Bahia - except at Dona Mariquita, that is.

The restaurant's "mission statement" which is published in Portuguese on its website says:

Opened on November 23, 2006, Dona Mariquita has as its purpose the preservation of traditional regional dishes of Bahia; dishes once served at fairs and festivals, street food, what you might call "roots food."...
Returning from a voyage to our gastronomic origins, Dona Mariquita has rescued original recipes and ingredients, bringing seafood from the Recôncavo da Bahia (the region surrounding Salvador), as well as seeds and leaves, blending together indigenous, African and countryside influences in search of the true flavor of our history. (translation by Flavors of Brazil)

Arroz de Hauçá

On the website, there is a very interesting article about the restaurant's efforts to preserve Muslim elements in Bahian culture, an influence that generally goes unnoticed in most discussions of the food of Bahia. Many of the black Africans who were forceably brought from West Africa to Brazil to slave on the colony's sugar plantations and in its mines were Muslims. Over time and under pressure from Catholic owners and authorities, most of these slaves became Christians in Brazil, and their Muslim heritage was lost or hidden. The restaurant features some dishes that can be traced back to Muslim West Africa, dishes like Arroz de Hauçá, variations of which are still common in Africa.

Dishes which are under the restaurant's protection are identified as such on the restuarant's extensive menu, which also features many of the non-endangered jewels of Bahian gastronomy such as Xinxim de Galinha and Moqueca de Peixe. We were unable to sample them all, due to limited time and stomach capacity, but did make sure that our menu choices focused on those dishes that, but for Dona Mariquita's efforts, might have disappeared entirely from Bahia's gastronomic history. Our next post  in this series will focus on these dishes. 

In the meantime, we applaud Dona Mariquita's noble effort and encourage readers of the blog who might be in the neighborhood in the future to do themselves the favor of enjoying the restaurant's unusual dishes while surrporting the preservation of Bahian food history at the same time.

On the Road - Salvador - Pt. 3 - The FIFA/McDonald's Scandal

It's hard to overstate the cultural value of the humble acarajé to the citizens of the Brazilian state of Bahia. This unprepossessing, fist-sized black-eyed-pea fritter has become the icon of Salvador in much the same way that the Eiffel Tower represents Paris, or Guiness represents Ireland. When tourists and returning locals exit the Salvador airport terminal on the arrivals level, they are immediately greeted by the unmistakable aroma of acarajé frying in a pot of dendê oil - the sidewalk in front of the terminal is home to several stands of baianas selling acarajé. That haunting aroma, the marvelous taste of the fritter and the traditional and ritualistic way in which it is sold are cultural touchstones of Salvador, and have been recognized by all levels of Brazilian government as important cultural patrimony worthy of protection.

So what does acarajé have to do with FIFA, McDonald's and the scandal referred to in the title of this post? As the governing organization for the 2014 World Cup of Football/Soccer, which will be held in Brazil, FIFA has control over many aspects of the Cup. Things like stadium capacity and required facilities, transportion of players and sponsorship of the Cup. Because the McDonald's corporation is one of the largest corporate sponsors of the World Cup, FIFA wants to prohibit the sale of acarajé within 2 km (1.2 miles) of Salvador's Fonte Nova stadium during the World Cup, in order to protect the interests (and hamburger sales) of McDonald's.

Could this....

become this???

This potential disruption of acarajé sales has created an uproar in Salvador. Rita Maria Ventura dos Santos, the president of Associação das Baianas de Acarajé e Vendedoras de Mingau (Abam), the official association of acarajé vendors, calls prohibiting sales of acarajé "absurd." She notes that at present there are eight acarajé stands within 2 km. of the stadium, and wonders what will happen to the women who own these stands when the Cup comes around. Community groups in Salvador are calling for a boycott of McDonald's to protest the move, and news of the prohibition and the boycott is spreading rapidly across all the Internet social networks.

The FIFA/McDonald's prohibition has not been confirmed yet by the Brazilian organizing committee or by Salvador's municipal authorities. The Bahia state Secretary in charge of World Cup arrangements has been quoted as saying no decision has yet been made, but will only confirm that the role of baianas and of acarajé in the World Cup is "under consideration."

On the Road - Salvador - Pt. 2 - The Joy of Abará

As Julie Andrews once warbled, "Let's start at the very beginning, A very good place to start...". So, we're beginning our reportage on our recent visit to Salvador, Bahia with the item that's always first (alphabetically, at least) in any list of traditional Bahian dishes - abará. It's hard to think of anything that might proceed abará in an alphabetical listing of dishes - except aardvark, and they don't eat aardvarks in Bahia.

 Abará  is one of the foods that is most closely associated with the Afro-Brazilian religion of Bahia, Candomblé, and it's also one of the items that can always be found for sale by baianas, the traditionally-dressed black women who sell Bahian food, most notably acarajé, on streets, squares and beachfronts of Salvador.

Iansã

In the rituals of Candomblé, which preserve the religious traditions brought from Africa to Brazil by slaves, abará is a favorite food of the orixá (divinity) Iansã, and offerings of food made to her invariably include abará. Iansã is the orixá of the River Niger in Africa, and of the wind, hurricanes and tempests. She is considered to be one of the most agressive of the female orixás and has dominion over the dead. In the syncretic tradition of linking orixás with saints of the Catholic church, she is identified with Santa Barbara and is worshiped as such in the Catholic churches of Bahia.

 There's nothing complex or complicated about abará - it's not a fancy or delicate food. But it does combine many of the most important ingredients of the Bahian pantry, which was large inherited from Africa. Basically, an abará is a soft batter made from black-eyed pears, flavored with bright orange dendê palm oil and cooked by being steams in a banana-leaf package. Sometimes ground dried shrimps are added to the batter for additional flavoring, but this isn't obligatory. Readers familiar with Mexican tamales will have a very good idea of what an abará is, as the two dishes are very similar. They differ in the mass used to create the dough - ground corn in the case of tamales and ground black-eyed peas in the case of abará. Although tamales are often stuff with a meat or chicken filling, abarás are not and resemble most closely those unstuffed tamales called "blind."

The list of ingredients that go into making abará is almost identical to acarajé. Both are based on the same batter, though in acarajé the batter is deep-fried in dendê whereas abará is steamed rather than fried and a small amount of dendê is stirred into the batter to flavor it. This makes abará slightly more healthy eating than acarajé, though it could never be considered health food.

In Salvador we sampled  abará at the famed Bahian buffet of SENAC, the public-private vocational school that can be found in any city in Brazil. In our next post, we'll look at the 40+ dish SENAC buffet in more detail. It's an edible encyclopedia of Bahian cuisine and an essential part of the Salvador experience.

(Click here for a recipe for abará  from an earlier posting on Flavors of Brazil).

On the Road - Salvador - Pt. 1

Salvador, Bahia

From time to time since beginning this blog in 2009, we've featured series of reports from various cities and regions of Brazil. We call them On the Road, and in the past we've reported on the gastronomic culture and food scene in such places as São Luis, Rio de Janeiro, Jericoacoara and Belém. Every one of these series originated with a trip to the location in question - visiting markets, street-food stalls, restaurants, museums and supermarkets. And in each, we've included restaurant reviews, photos and videos, and recipes.

This weekend we're in Salvador, Bahia, preparing for the next in the series. The state of Bahia, and in particular its capital, Salvador, is home to the most well-known and widely-appreciated of all of Brazil's regional cuisines, referred to in Portuguese as comida baiana and in English as Bahian cuisine.

Brazil's food culture is a complex mixture of influences, but there are three essential referential points - the gastronomy of Europe, particularly of Portugual, the native American gastronomy of the indigenous Amerindian cultures, and the gastronomy of Africa, which was brought to Brazil by captive slaves. Bahia's food culture rests primarily on African roots - the slaves who came to Brazil from Africa beginning in the 16th century carried very little with them in the holds of slave ships. Only their African cultural heritage - food, art, religion, music, rhythms and the like - survived the trip across the South Atlantic from Angola, Benin and Guinea to places like Bahia, Pernambuco and Minas Gerais in Brazil.

Candomblé

The African influences on Bahian culture bubble and stir together in a large open pot - the spicy dishes that Bahia shares with Africa are served in the temples of the Afro-Brazilian religion Candomblé, and the rhythmic songs and chants of Bahia often sing the praises of local delicacies. It's all connected organically, and the mixture is unique to Bahia.

Starting at the beginning of next week, when we're back from Bahia, check out Flavors of Brazil, On the Road - Salvador. If you know Bahia, it should bring back some great sensory memories. And if you've not been there, it will surely whet your appetite to go.

On The Road - Belém (Pt. 10) - RECIPE - Pan-fried Filhote

We'll wrap up our series of "On the Road" posts about the city of Belém and its unique regional cuisine, based on the bounty of the world's largest river system, with this simple recipe for pan-fried filhote, one of the typical fresh-water fishes of the Amazon. The entire culinary culture of Belém, like the very life of the city itself, depends on the riches of the river and the rain forest that fills its basin. In Belém everything can be traced back, at some degree, to the waters that flow more than 4000 miles across the basin and to the plant and animal life that flourish there.

The Amazonian rain forest is the most bio-diverse ecosystem on our planet, and the food resources there, properly managed and controlled, could continue to nourish the bodies and souls of the regions inhabitants for millennia to come. Let us hope that we humans wisely shepherd this most unique of the world's natural resources.

This recipe is a typically regional way to cook filhote. The fish is only available in the region, however, but the recipe adapts wonderfully to all sorts of fresh-water and salt-water varieties of fish. Try it with catfish, with halibut or any other white-fleshed firm fish of your choice.
_________________________________________
RECIPE - Pan-fried Filhote
Serves 4

4 filhote steaks (or filets) about 1/2 lb (250 gr) each
2 limes
1 serrano or japapeno pepper
3 cloves garlic, crushed
salt to taste
1/2 cup dry white wine
1/2 cup water
1 Tbsp extravirgin olive oil
1/4 cup finely chopped cilantro
1/4 cup finely chopped green onion, green part only
additional olive oil for frying
lime wedges for garnish
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Prepare the fish: wash the fish in fresh running water and refresh it with the juice of one the two limes. In a ceramic dish combine the juice of the the other lime, the white wine, the 1/2 cup water, the whole chili pepper, the garlic , the olive oil and the chopped herbs. Soak the fish in this liquid for 30 minutes in the refrigerator.

Remove the fish from the soaking liquid. Dry thoroughly with paper towels. Heat a non-stick frying pan over medium high heat. When hot, add a small amount of olive oil. When the oil is hot but not smoking add the fish and cook over high heat for a minute or two on each side, until the fish is nicely browned on both sides and just beginning to flake. Do not overcook.

Remove from heat, then serve the fish immediately, accompanied by wedges of fresh lime.

Recipe translated and adapted from Cozinha Regional Brasileira by Abril Editora.

On The Road - Belém (Pt. 9) - A Very Big Puppy - Filhote

Probably the biggest puppy we ever saw was a two-month-old St. Bernard - it had to have been at least 100 lbs (50 lbs) and it was still a long way from being fully grown. At least he was the biggest puppy we'd ever seen until Flavors of Brazil's recent road trip to Belém, situated near the mouth of the Amazon River system. There we saw a puppy that was about 6 feet long (2 meters), probably weighed over 600 lbs (500 kgs) and instead of being furry and fluffy and cute was wet, slimy and ugly as hell. But it was delicious!

You see, the word for puppy in Portuguese is filhote (filho means son). But in Belém the word isn't applied just to young canines, it is also the name of a very large member of the catfish family, one of the largest fresh-water fishes in the world. This creature's scientific name is Brachyplathystoma filamentosum, and it also bears the alternative name piraíba.

filhote en route to market

This fish exists only in the rivers of the Amazon rain forest. It lives in the deepest parts of the river system, which are very deep indeed, and when caught on a line it puts up a tremendous battle. Fishing for filhote is a favorite activity for sports fishermen from all around the world who come to the Amazon to fish.

filhote at the market

But filhote is caught primarily not because of its value as a sports fish, it's caught for its delicate and delicious flesh. Filhote is one of the favorite eating fish of the region, if not the absolute favorite. Filhote has a clean, clear taste with none of the "muddy" flavors that often mar the flavors of other members of the catfish family. The flesh is a bright white in color and when cooked properly it flakes but doesn't fall apart.

Because the taste of filhote is subtle, most Belenenses prefer to eat it quite simply - to let the taste of the fish shine through. The most common ways to serve this fish are pan-fried, grilled or roasted, lightly seasoned, and without rich sauces. We'll provide a recipe in the next post.

On The Road - Belém (Pt. 8) - Tropical Ice Cream Paradise

In the hot, muggy, often stifling climate of Belém, simply being able to refresh oneself from time to time with a cone or cup of ice cream is a potential lifesaver. And if that ice cream comes from Belém's most well-known and loved chain of ice cream store, Cairu, it's also a potential lifechanger. For if you visit one of Cairu's 10 locations around the city, whether in the tourist/entertainment center Estação das Docas  or in a residential neighborhood you'll taste ice cream as good as the best that Italy or Argentina has to offer, with the added bonus of a range of flavors that exists nowhere else in the world.

Cairu sells all the standard ice cream flavors, of course, and their quality is probably high. We say probably, because when faced with the list of flavors posted on the wall choosing vanilla or strawberry over one of the local fruits of the jungle wasn't even an option for us. During our recent visit to Belém we made repeated trips to Cairu and not once did we order a flavor of ice cream we had ever had before in our lives, nor did we order a flavor we'd already tried at Cairu, tempted though we were.

Cairu's speciality is the confection of superb ice cream flavored by the tremendous cornucopia of fruits that flourish in the tropical rain forest. Fruits like bacuri, cupuaçu, ixu, murici, açaí, taperebá - all with flavors as exotic as their names. Some, like cupuaçu, which is related to chocolate, are creamy and smooth and others, like taperebá and murici have the sharp acidic tang of plenty of vitamin C. Cairu also has an interesting selection of local flavors that are not fruit-based, such as castanha-do-Pará (brazil nut) and tapioca. All of Cairu's ice creams are made in house, using only natural flavors, sugar and dairy. There are no artificial flavors or preservatives. Considering the quality of the product, we found Cairu's prices to be surprisingly reasonable. A single cone or cup (a very large scoop) was R$4.00, just over USD $2.00 and a double R$7.00, about USD $3.50.

It's 9:40 in the morning as we write this post, and it's already 31 degrees (88F) here in Fortaleza.  We'd kill for a scoop of Cairu's taperebá ice cream right about now. In the tropical heat, it's definitely good for what ails you. Too bad it's 800 miles away!

On The Road - Belém (Pt. 7) - RECIPE - Tacacá

Photo by Adalton Ramos

As with our earlier recipe for pato no tucupi in this series of posts about the Amazonian cuisine of the city of Belém, this recipe for the city's favorite afternoon pick-me-up, tacacá, isn't something that you're likely to try at home. Unless your home is within striking distance of the Amazon River, that is. The main reason is that with the exception of shrimp, the main ingredients of tacacá are just not available outside the rain forest region, even in other parts of Brazil. Trying to find jambu leaves or a bottle of tucupi in your local A&P, Safeway or Waitrose's is an exercise in futility.

Nonetheless, without a recipe for tacacá, this particular edition of Flavors of Brazil On the Road would be incomplete, so here it is, from the pages of Cozinha Regional Brasileira. Keep in mind, that most of the tacacá vendors in Belém have never seen a recipe for the soup, and if asked what quantities of this or that are required would have no idea. They'd say you need just enough manioc starch (goma) to give the broth a nice silky texture, enough chili peppers to liven the dish without burning out the mouth, and just enough jambu leaves to make your tongue and palate tingle but not deaden entirely. But here's the recipe, quantities and all.
________________________________________________________
 RECIPE - Tacacá
Serves 2

For the tucupi
4 cups (1 liter) tucupi
3 cloves garlic, peeled
A few leaves, Amazonian chicory
1 bunch Amazonian basil

For the jambu
1 bunch jambu
salt to taste
water
ice

For the shrimp
1 lb (500 gr) dried, salted large shrimp with shells

For the manioc starch
1 cup manioc starch (tapioca flour)
1 cup cold water

For the  tacacá
8 cups (2 liters) water
salt to taste
2 cloves garlic
1 bunch  Amazonian chicory
chili peppers in vinegar (to taste)
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Make the tucupi: In a saucepan combine the tucupi, the garlic the chicory and basil. Bring to a boil over medium heat, then lower the heat and reserve, keeping hot.

Prepare the jambu: Heat plenty of water in a saucepan and when it comes to the boil, add salt to taste. Blanch the jambu for a minute or two in the water and refresh immediately in a bowl of ice water. Reserve.

Prepare the shrimp: Thoroughly clean the shrimps. Soak them in cold water until needed to partially desalinize them. Reserve.

Prepare the manioc starch: In a medium mixing bowl, gradually stir the starch into cold water until it has all dissolved. Reserve.

Make the tacacá: In a third saucepan, mix the water, salt, garlic and chicory. Heat over medium heat and when it comes to the boil remove the garlic and chicory. Slowly add the dissolved manioc starch, stirring constantly with a spoon or whisk to ensure that lumps don't form.

Serving: use hollowed-out dried gourds or deep soup bowls. In each bowl combine the tucupi and the manioc starch in proportions of  3/4 tucupi to 1/4 starch. Add a few jambu leaves and a few shrimp to each bowl, plus chili peppers if desired, and serve immediately, very hot.

On The Road - Belém (Pt. 6) - Tacacá

tacacá

At the end of the afternoon in Belém, around four or five, just after the daily torrential downpour ends, a collective hunger pervades local residents. It's the same hour as tea in London, churros and hot chocolate in Madrid, or coffee and Viennese pastries in Vienna, but nobody in Belém indulges in any of those treats. Here the end of the afternoon means only one thing. It's time to "take tacacá." Although tacacá is a soup, in the local dialect one doesn't drink or eat it, one takes it - tomar tacacá.

One might think that the last thing anyone would want in the muggy heat of an Amazonian afternoon is a steaming hot bowl of soup. But if one thinks that way, one's not from Belém. For Belenenses (inhabitants of Belém), a bowl of tacacá cures all ills and soothes the soul like nothing else. It also tides one over until dinner quite nicely.

tacacazeira

Taking tacacá has long been a ritual all throughout the Amazonian basin, though anthropologists tell us it originated among the Amerindian tribes in the region nearest to Belém. How, when and why it is served are controlled by age-long custom. Among the unwritten rules and regulations: tacacá is street food, purchased and eaten on the street. Tacacá vendors, usually women and known as tacacazeiras, sell their product from carts and stalls situated on the street, on the corner or in a park, just like Salvador's famous baianas and their acarajé. Tacacá must be served in a gourd, never in a plastic or ceramic bowl. The gourd sometimes nestles in a small woven basket to make it easier to pick up when filled with hot tacacá and traditionally decorated gourds are often lovely objets d'arts. Tacacá must be sipped directly from the gourd, not brought to the mouth via a spoon, although a small toothpick is often provided to help pick out the solid ingredients. Finally, and seemingly perversely, tacacá has to be very, very hot.

tacacá gourd

To sit on a small plastic stool on a busy street in Belém at 5 pm, watching the tacacazeira dish out portion after portion of tacacá while sipping from one's own gourd is to participate in the life of the city and to share a culinary ritual that goes back millennia.

proper technique

So what, exactly, is this soup that's so much a part of Belém's identity? For readers who've been following these recent Flavors of Brazil posts on the foods of Belém it won't be a surprise that the basis of tacacá is manioc. The broth that is at the center of tacacá is seasoned tucupi (the liquid that results from squeezing grated manioc root), thickened with manioc starch, also known as tapioca. The broth is enlivened with with a dash of hot chili peppers preserved in tucupi. Cooked in the broth are leaves of the anesthetic jambu, which deadens the mouth and makes the tongue tingle, and dried shrimp. That's all there is to it - spicy broth, jambu leaves and a few shrimp.

But to call tacacá simply a soup with a few shrimps and some greens is to sell it short. A well-prepared tacacá is marvelously delicious and a true end-of-the-afternoon pick-me-up. The spicy liquid, the tingly sensation in the mouth and the rich, salty tang of the shrimp awaken all your senses without leaving you feeling full or over-satiated. It's just what you need to carry you through the end of the day. It's the chicken soup which nourishes the soul of Belém.

On The Road - Belém (Pt.5) - Manioc, Let Me Count the Ways

As we mentioned in last Friday's post about the three cornerstones of the cuisine of Belém, the staple carbohydrate upon which the cuisine in built is the tropical tuber manioc (Manihot esculenta), alternatively known in English as cassava or sometimes yuca. Manioc is to Belenense cooking what rice is to Chinese, wheat is to Italian cooking and the potatoes is to Irish - the supplier of the major portion of the population's daily nutritional intake. In the Amazonian region of Brazil, where Belém is located, up to 33% of the daily caloric intake comes from manioc in some form or another.

Bitter manioc tuber

What is most astonishing about this tuber, first domesticated in the southwestern portion of the Amazonian basin as long as ten thousand years ago, is its chameleon-like nature. Manioc shows up in all kinds of shapes, forms and consistencies in Belém and it's hard to imagine that two dishes as different as the soupy broth called tacacá and the crunchy, gritty flour called farinha that is sprinkled on top of grilled meats share a common ingredient. And that ingredient could only be manioc. Manioc can look like mashed potatoes, as when it tops arrumadinho, the Brazilian take on shepherd's pie. It can look just like french fries. Or it can be an airy, light form of bread - as in Brazilian  pão de queijo. It even makes an appearance at North American dessert tables, disguised as tapioca pudding. Those pearly balls in the pudding are manioc, as are the "bubbles" in Asian bubble tea. It's an infinitely versatile food, and the cooking of Belém would be radically different without it.

Producers, vendors and cooks of manioc in Belém sort manioc plants into two types, normally called sweet (doce) or bitter (amargo). It's a good thing that they do, too, for bitter manioc is highly poisonous in its natural, uncooked form. Both types of manioc contain cyanide poison in their tubers, roots and leaves, but the quantity is much less in sweet manioc. A kilogram of sweet manioc contains approximately 20 mg. of hydrogen cyanide, but the same quantity of bitter manioc can contain 50 times as much. Since as little as 40 mg. of this chemical can be fatal, bitter manioc is toxic indeed.

Fortunately, the toxins present in bitter manioc can be removed by processing and cooking the plant, something that Amerindians discovered at the time they first domesticated manioc. This detoxification can be accomplished by long cooking - the technique that's used when cooking manioc leaves, which must be cooked for an entire week without stopping before they are served. Tubers are processed by mashing or milling the root, then squeezing out the liquid which contains most of the toxins, and cooking the remainder.

Ground manioc leaves, Ver-o-peso market, Belém

Brazilian Portuguese makes it easy to differentiate between sweet manioc and bitter, though there are regional dialectical differences which cloud the picture. The bitter type is called mandioca, from a Tupi word that is also the basis for English manioc. Sweet manioc is called mandioca-doce, mandionca-mansa, macaxeira, or aipim depending on region. In English, dangerously, both bitter and sweet are called manioc or cassava.

Tucupi, Ver-o-peso market, Belém

As we explore the gastronomy of Belém in this series of On The Road posts, we'll run into manioc again and again. It already showed up in a liquid form in yesterday's recipe for pato no tucupi (duck in tucupi). Tucupi is made by squeezing the liquid from bitter manioc tubers, then letting the liquid sit until the starch settles out and can be removed. The remaining liquid is cooked to rid it of poisons, resulting in  tucupi. That settled starch, by the way, is later dried and becomes tapioca. Just one more transformation of this remarkable plant.

On The Road - Belém (Pt. 4) - RECIPE - Duck in Tucupi (Pato no Tucupi)

Such is the fame of Pato no Tucupi, the most iconic dish of the Amazonian cuisine of Belém, that in the annual listing of the city's best food published by Veja magazine, Pato no Tucupi has its own category. According to the food guide, one restaurant is the city's best Italian, another has the best meat, while a restaurant called Lá em Casa (Back Home) is crowned with the honor of serving the city's best Pato no Tucupi.

The late founder of Lá em Casa, Paulo Martins, is often credited for bringing Brazil's attention to the culinary richness of the Amazon. An early advocate of the values of the Slow Food movement, Martins sniffed, smelled and tasted his way through the region's markets, forests and rivers, continually searching for those ingredients which exemplify the food ways of the Amazon. Although Sr. Martins died tragically young a few years ago, the kitchen of his restaurant continues under the supervision of his daughter, Daniela, and his influence continues to grow locally and nationally. Brazil's acknowledged top chef, Alex Atala, often speaks of Sr. Martins and how he was personally influenced and inspired by the chef from Belém.

On Flavors of Brazil's recent road trip to Belém, leaving Pato no Tucupi off the menu was unthinkable, and to our way of thinking, Lá em Casa was the logical place to sample it. The restaurant is located in the city's art and entertainment complex, called  Estação das Docas. Situated on the banks of the river,  Estação das Docas is a mix of performance spaces, shops and boutiques, restaurants, bars and even a craft brewety. Formerly a group of abandoned waterfront warehouses and depots, the area now is busy day and night with locals and tourists alike.

At  Lá em Casa Pato no Tucupi is served traditionally. A large tureen comes to the table. Inside are several very generous pieces of duck in a thick yellow broth that also contains some spinach-like greens called jambu. The broth itself is the tucupi. The traditional side dishes are white rice, hot yellow peppers in vinegar and  manioc farinha. The serving is large, and although the restaurant claims it serves only a single diner, it can easily serve two persons. (Sharing a dish for two persons is very common in Brazilian restaurants and asking to share will cause no embarrassment or problem anywhere).

Our Pato no Tucupi was wonderful and it was immediately clear that the dish is a prize-winner by rights. The duck was fall-off-the-bone tender and very lean, not fatty at all. The broth was complex and refreshingly acidic and the jambu was just plain fun. Eating jambu causes a slight by very distinctive anesthetic effect on the tongue and palate. It's as if one's mouth had "gone to sleep." Tingly, numb - the sensations are strange and wonderful. The effect lasts only a short time after finishing the dish, about 10 minutes, but it's an absolutely unique experience. The effect is caused by a compound found in jambu called spilanthol, an ingredient in many proprietary toothache powders and other such medicines.

Pato no Tucupi wouldn't be Pato no Tucupi without tucupi. And tucupi is not something you can make at home. Belém's central food market, Ver-o-peso, has hundreds of tucupi vendors, and the ingredient is available sporadically Brazil outside the Amazon basin, but it is not exported. Because of this, we realize that the recipe below is not something that you're likely to cook at home - you'll just have to fly to Belém yourself if you want to try it. But a culinary visit to Belém without a recipe for Pato no Tucupi would be incomplete. So here it is - enjoy.
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RECIPE - Duck in Tucupi (Pato no Tucupi)
Serves 6

2 small free-range ducks (about 2 lb, 1 kg, each)
juice of 5 limes
5 heads of garlic, smashed
2 cups white wine
4 very mild chile peppers (Anaheim or similar)
salt to taste
6 quarts (6 liters) tucupi
1 bunch alfavaca (Amazonian basil)
1 bunch chicory
6 bunches jambu
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Wash the ducks well in running water. In a large bowl combine the ducks, lime juice, three of the smashed whole heads of garlic, the white wine, 1 chile pepper, salt and water to cover. Marinade the ducks, refrigerated, for hours in this liquid.

The next day, preheat the oven to 350F (180C). Remove the duck from the marinade, pat dry and in a non-stick roasting pan, roast the ducks for 90 minutes. While the ducks are roasting, combine the tucupi, 3 chile peppers, 2 heads of garlic, the alfavaca and the chicory in a large stockpot and bring to a boil. Reserve.

Remove the ducks from the oven, let cool slightly, and cut or chop into serving-sized pieces. In a large saucepan, combine 2 quarts of the seasoned tucupi and the duck meat and simmer until the duck is very tender and beginning to fall off the bone. Meanwhile, wash the jambu in plenty of running water, the blanch in boiling water, refreshing immediately in cold water. Reserve the jambu.

Bring the remaining 4 quarts of seasoned tucupi to a boil. Divide the duck meat between 6 deep soup plates. Divide the refreshed jambu equally among the plates, the pour hot tucupi over all. Let stand for a minute or two to let the jambu warm thoroughly, then serve immediately, accompanied by plain white rice and toasted manioc flour (farinha).

On The Road - Belém (Pt. 3) - The Three Cornerstones

The cuisine of Amazonian Brazil, and in particular the cuisine of the city of Belém, is complex and elaborate, even in its most traditional form. Ingredients are transformed almost beyond recognition. In fact, a single ingredient might show up in various metamorphic forms in the same dish. Giant fish are reduced to bite-sized chunks or smoked, dried and grated, nuts are ground into flour, leaves are cooked for a week without stopping to eliminate their poisons, and fruits are dried, pureed or distilled - all in the goal of increasing the flavor on the plate (or banana leaf) that arrives at the table.

No matter how much manipulation and reformation is going on, though, it's clear that the entire culinary culture of Belém rests on three basic types of foodstuffs. Almost every dish, savory or sweet, will have at least one of these groups in its ingredient list, many have two, and often all three groups are represented in a single dish.

Pato no Tucupi

These three groups of food which rest at the bottom of Belém's pyramid of ingredients are manioc in all its many forms, the animal life that abounds on and in the fresh waters of the Amazon River basin, and the cornucopia of fruits and vegetables to be found in the world's largest rain forest. Take, for example, the region's most iconic and famous dish, Pato no Tucupi (Duck in Tucupi). This marvelous and marvelously complex dish consists of river duck (pato) cooked and served in a broth of tucupi (wild manioc root which is peeled, grated and juiced, then cooked to eliminate the toxins) enlivened with the surprisingly anesthetic leaves of the jambu plant, native to the rain forest. All three food groups are represented in a bowl of Pato no Tucupi - manioc in the form or tucupi, riverine duck, and jambu, the exotic harvest of the jungle.

In upcoming posts Flavors of Brazil will highlight each of these categories of food as we explore the cuisine of Belém. But next up, there's the recipe for Pato no Tucupi.

On The Road - Belém (Pt. 2) - The Links

Although our current series of posts on the Brazilian city of Belém is intended to give a good overall view of the gastronomic culture of that vibrant, and let's say it, HOT, city, this is not the first time Flavors of Brazil has dealt with the foods of Belém, of its state, Pará, or of the Amazonian region that contains half of Brazil's territory.

We first reported on the region back in February, 2010, when we posted an article about how the Amazonian fruit açaí was gaining space in North American and Europeans food consciousness, and have since published a dozen or so articles directly concerned with Belém.

Rather than repeat information that we've already published, we've decided to post quick and easy links to previous;y published material on the blog. These links are below.

Starting with our next post, we'll get into the matter at hand.
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Flavors of Brazil posts about  Belém:

1.   Açaí Makes the New York Times - 24 Feb 2010
2.   INGREDIENTS - Jambu - 14 May 2010
3.   RECIPE - Jambu Rice (Arroz de Jambu) - 15 May 2010
4.   Pirarucu - An Endangered Giant - 06 Sep 2010
5 .  From the Rivers of the Rain Forest - Aviú - 22 Mar 2011
6.   MARKETS OF BRAZIL - Ver-o-peso Market, Belém - 30 May 2011
7.   The Story of Carmelita - Ver-o-peso's Queen of Amazonian Fruits - 31 May 2011
8.   SEAFOODS OF BRAZIL - Amazonian River Prawn - 01 Jun 2011
9.   FRUITS OF BRAZIL - Tucumã do Pará - 03 Jun 2011
10. Chibé - An Indigenous Staple Goes Upmarket - 29 Sep 2011
11. FISH OF BRAZIL - Tucunaré (Peacock Bass) - 31 Jan 2012
12. FRUITS OF BRAZIL - Bacuri - 01 Apr 2012

On The Road - Belém (Pt. 1) - The Culinary Importance of Belém

From time to time Flavors of Brazil posts a series of related articles which we call "On The Road". Each series details the gastronomic culture - the culinary history, distinctive ingredients and dishes, and local recipes - of a Brazilian city or region. Each series is based on a visit we've taken to the locale featured, often a city we haven't visited before. In the past, these series have highlighted destinations such as São Luís, Maranhão, Rio de Janeiro and Jericoacoara, Ceará.

Flavors of Brazil has recently returned from a fisrt-time visit to the city of Belém, capital of the Brazilian state of Pará and situated near one of the many mouths of the gigantic Amazon River system, just one degree south of the Equator. It was an eye-opening experience and a crash course in the food of Brazil's north, a culinary culture that is very different from the rest of Brazil. The next few posts on Flavors of Brazil will concentrate on what we saw, heard, smelled and tasted while we were there.

Those readers of this blog who've been with the blog for a while (and who are attentive students of Brazilian gastronomy!) will remember that the tremendously varied and inventive regional cuisines that make up Brazilian food culture are the result on the mixing and meshing of three primary gastronomic influences. These three influences are the tripod from which Brazilian cuisine rises and the various regional cuisines of this country grew from the many possible ways in which these influences can blend and combine. The three major influences are European, primarily Portuguese, food culture, African food culture and Amerindian food culture. European food culture came to Brazil with the various waves of European explorers, colonizers and immigrants. African food culture crossed the Atlantic in the belly of slave ships along with the approximately 10 million Africans forced in slavery in Brazil's sugar plantations and gold mines. And the Amerindian food culture arrived on foot with the very first humans to inhabit Brazil, thousands of years before either Europeans or Africans were aware that the Americas even existed.

Touches of these three primary influences, European, African and Amerindian, are found in most Brazilian regional cuisines, but only in one cuisine is one of these influences of almost exclusive importance. The spicy, rich cuisine of the state of Bahia owes its unique qualities almost entirely to the culinary heritage of Africa. South-central Brazil, the states of São Paulo, Rio de Janeiro and Minas Gerais, is where you'll find cooking that is most strongly influenced by the cuisines of Europe. And the north, the location of the world's largest rain forest and the world's largest river, is where Amerindian food ways most stongly inform the local cuisine. The gastronomic center of Brazil's north is Belém. One can't really know Brazilian cuisine without knowing the food of Belém, just as it's impossible to claim to know Brazilian cuisine without having sampled the African-influenced dishes and delicacies of Salvador, Bahia. The food of Belém and its region is fundamental to Brazilian gastronomy, and so in the next week or so, Flavors of Brazil hopes to open a small window on this fascinating, exotic and largely-unknown cuisine. We hope that reading about the city, its markets, shops, food-stalls and restaurants will give you just a bit of the Flavor of Belém, an important part of the Flavors of Brazil.

On the Road - Jericoacoara (Pt. 4)

Last month, before Flavors of Brazil's excursion to Jericoacoara, we published a few posts about this isolated beach resort. One post in particular seemed to be very popular judging from the number of hits it received. It concerned a local resident of Jeri, who goes by the professional name of Tia Angelita (Aunt Angelita) and who is famous both locally and beyond the city limits for her delightful banana torte.

We were aware of her notoriety when we wrote the article, and when we published the recipe, which came from a regional cuisine website, it did sound very, very good. So when we went to Jericoacoara, it seemed imperative to try out her torte for ourselves.

There are no street numbers in Jericoara, and only the main streets seem to have a name. Directions tend to be in the "go up that way for a while, then when you see the laundromat on your left duck into the alley on the opposite side of the street. Follow that for a ways, then turn left on the first smaller alley you come to...." So when we asked local residents how to find Tia Angelita's bakeshop, we got general directional pointers only, even though everyone seemed to know her. No one gave us a blank stare when we said, "Which way to Aunt Angelita's?" But no one could give us precise directions either.

With a bit of perseverence (a virtue not easy to come by in the hot mid-day sun) and even more luck, we finally came upon a tiny sign in front of a fairly anonymous residential-looking house with a large verandah. Sitting in the verandah were three or four adolescent girls, gossiping about Justin Bieber, no doubt. We asked them if we had the right place and if so, could we have a couple of pieces of banana torte. The answers were yes and yes.

We followed one of the girls inside, where there were a few table, a counter, an ice cream freezer and a coffee maker. AND a tray of banana torte. We bought two pieces for R$3 each (about USD $1.55) and decided to eat them on the way back to our pousada, as it was very hot inside Aunt Angelita's.

The torte looked exactly like the photo we had published in November (it's published again below). It was slightly warm, whether from the oven or the temperature in the bakeshop it's impossible to tell. Bringing it to our mouth, the two unmistakeable aromas of cooked banana and powdered cinnamon hit us straight on. Once we bit in, they were the two principle elements of the flavor profile, but there was also a nice butter flavor in the bananas and in the crust, which had almost a shortbread consistency.

It was unanimously agreed that Angelita's torte lives up to her recommendation. We're not marijuana smokers, but there's no doubt that one slice of this torte would be heavenly relief for someone suffering an almost-terminal case of the munchies. It's great stuff.

On the Road - Buenos Aires

Although this blog normally concerns itself with Brazilian food and Brazilian cuisine, I thought it might be interesting to post a few comments about Flavors of Brazil's recent visit to Buenos Aires, Argentina. This won't be a series of posts like other "On the Road" articles, just a few impressions and recollections of the nearby yet very different cuisines of Argentina.

We found that while food generally is cheaper in Brazil than it is in North America or Europe, it is cheaper still in Argentina - both in supermarkets and in restaurants. In the mid-1990s when  Brazil and Argentina reformed their currencies the Brazilian Read and the Argentinian Peso were valued as USD $1.00. Today, Brazil's very strong Real is worth about USD $0.60 and the Peso is worth USD $0.25. The variation in the amount these two currencies have devalued in the past 15 years shows on every supermarket receipt and restaurant tab. For Brazilians, food in Argentina is good value, for North Americans and Europeans it is even better value. For example, one evening in a typically meat-driven restaurant four of us each had a large steak, of excellent quality, a number of side dishes, no dessert, and a good bottle of wine for a total of AEP $50.00 - or about USD $12.50 per person. At the neighborhood greengrocers, we paid about USD $0.10 per pound for bananas, and $0.15 per pound for excellent apples. Cherries, which are exorbitantly expensive in Brazil when you can find them, were a bargain $1.00 per pound.

What's true about the cost of food in Argentina also applies, happily, to Argentinian wines. Although Argentina's reputation internationally as a producer of top-quality South American wines still tails that of Chile, the quality of Argentinian wines has improved enormously in the past decade or so, as has the variety of available wines. A bottle of Trumpeter Reserve 2007 (a blend of Tempranillo, Malbec and Cabernet Sauvignon), which sells in Brazil for the equivalent of USD $35.00, cost us USD $16.00 in a Buenos Aires wine shop. At it drank more like a thirty-five dollar wine than a sixteen dollar one, you can believe!

Argentinians are doing their best to uphold their reputation as being the world's most beef-crazed nation. They have recently lost their World Crown in tems of per capita consumption to neighboring Uruguay, but only by a small amount. Even so, they eat two times as much beef as Americans do, per capita, and three times what Canadians do. The beef is abundant and delicious in Buenos Aires - Argentinian beef is normally grilled, seasoned only with salt, and has a beautiful flavor profile, as it's all grass-fed.

Buenos Aires continues to look to mother-country Spain for guidance on proper meal times, and not to Brazil, North America or Northern Europe. In the evening, most restaurants are closed until about 9 pm, empty until about 11pm, and hopping from midnight on. It takes some adjusting to be able to dine, heartily, at that late hour. It certainly has an effect on bedtime, as it's impossible to sleep after such a large, late meal. However, bars are open to dawn, and clubs don't even open until after midnight, there's no shortage of things to occupy one's time in the wee small hours of the morning.

he city, though still very much a traditional food city (meat, Italian food, etc.) has become quite sophisticated and the contemporary food scene is flourishing. One recent trend which has caught on big in Buenos Aires is that of the closed-door restaurant - that is, a restaurant in a private home, somewhat clandestine, served family style for a small number of diners. Until one reserves, the location is not disclosed. We were lucky enough to dine one night at Casa Saltshaker, run by an expat American and fellow blogger, and had a marvelous meal. On the night we were there, the menu saluted the 70th anniversary of the end of the Franco-Thai war. Twelve guests, of whom half were Canadians surprisingly, spent the evening happily working their way through five courses with paired wines. Good food was eaten, excellent wines were sampled and new friends were made - an excellent way to spend a Saturday night, in Buenos Aires or anywhere else for that matter.

For more interesting blog articles on food and dining in Buenos Aires, Casa Saltshaker has an excellent blog, which you can visit by clicking here. As for Flavors of Brazil, we'll now move back to the subject at hand, Brazilian food.

On the Road - Rio de Janeiro (MASTER POST WITH LINKS)

Just like we did last month with our posts from São Luís, Maranhão, Flavors of Brazil has compiled a complete list of all of the postings from our recent On the Road trip to Rio de Janeiro. Each listing contains a link to the article itself, and a simple click will take you to the posting in question. Judging by the number of hits that our previous master post with links received, this seems to be a popular feature with readers of this blog, so we'll continue the practice in the future when Flavors of Brazil hits the road once again.
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On the Road - Rio de Janeiro (Pt. 1) - The Cuisine of Rio (Comida Carioca)
On the Road - Rio de Janeiro - Pt. 2) - Filé Osvaldo Aranha
On the Road - Rio de Janeiro (Pt. 3) - RECIPE Filé Osvaldo Aranha
On the Road - Rio de Janeiro (Pt. 4) - São Pedro Fish Market, Niterói
On the Road - Rio de Janeiro (Pt. 5) - Lunching at the São Pedro Fish Market
On the Road - Rio de Janeiro (Pt. 6) - The Botecos of Rio
On the Road - Rio de Janeiro (Pt. 7) - Pet Delícia, Rio's Canine Restaurant