Cook it yourself!

I like to cook - but I definitely wouldn't consider it a hobby. I haven't exactly become renowned for my culinary prowess over the years, but I've never poisoned anyone either, and I've definitely moved on beyond the student staples that got me through my hard, hard studies.

Come to think of it, in four years as a student, I seldom ventured into the kitchen for fear of contracting something incurable. And to demonstrate the sensitivity of my refined pallete, I ate some bloody hot curries that made me cry just for a laugh. Where does that put me in line for Jamie O's crown?

I do, however love to eat local food wherever I am and a work buddy recently organised a session with ''Cook in Rio' for us to try some Brazilian food (and be taught how to prepare and cook it!).

The occasion was a friends birthday, and it was a perfect way to celebrate. Not least because if you meet a bunch of people from work it is always a good idea to try and steer the conversation away from the bleedin obvious, and when everyone is 'hands on' from the moment they arrive, chopping, peeling, boozing etc, then it really does feel like a party rather than a works outing.

Simone was the culinary oracle of the moment, and she led us through Batida de Côco, Aipim Frito, Caipirinha, and Moqueca (there was more, but you get the idea...) - I'll definitely be giving it a go at home.

So - if you fancy fine-tuning your chopping or just getting tipsy with the excuse that you're absorbing another dose of Carioca culture, then give it a go - can't recommend it enough. Cheers!

Viva são João (and a really boozy recipe)

So.... no shortage of stuff to do in Rio at the moment.... and if a break from the onslaught of the Rio +20 earth summit is needed then it might be the perfect time to get stuck into one or more of the many ´Festa Junina´celebrations scattered around the place. Just don a checked shirt and get stuck in.

Festa Junina started out as a celebration of the nativity of John the Baptist. It is also a chance to thank St. John for the rain (although lately there might be a case for saying 'thanks for the rain and everything, but could we have something elese now - its been pissing it down for ages.'

Dress code is rural. That is pig-tails, gap teeth, freckles, strawhats and any other hillbilly stereotypes you can think of. Don't be shy, there is absolutely no way you will overdo it.

We took our little man to the Fazendinha Estação Natureza in Vargem Grande for the festa laid on by the creche - what a corker. Horse rides, climbing frames, ostriches, you name it - I suggest you give it a spin on any day (might want to check if its open first).

And, being a teacher - its always good to see just how excited the youngsters (and their teachers who actually understand what is going on) get about these events.Our bash yesterday was the real deal (with everything but the super strength São João booze - Quentão - Can't wait to get my hands on a wooden bucketfull!

View from the playground yesterday

When it rains....

Corpus Christi 2012



I keep an eye on the weather forecast. I gloat from time to time, especially when I'm drinking in the sun. One thing I don't tend to bang on about is the rain.

Well today was one of those rainy days that reminded me why everything is so green and lush here. It reminded me that many of the streets in town simply don't have drains that can cope in any way. And it reminded me that the intrepid drivers on the newly formed underwater racetrack don't give a shit about taking it slightly easier with the right foot.

Still, at least it gave the hoards of umbrella sellers a chance to rip off a few victims.

So much for a bank holiday Thursday out and about - we spent half the day sheltering in Leblon shopping with the rest of the young and beautiful trendy masses. If you fancy a really expensive (but rather good) burger and chips I can recommend 'the fifties' diner up on the 4th floor.  Cold beer and a what would have been a great view of Christ. The clouds scuppered my gloating photo.

Mind Your Tongue In Laranjeiras

I remember going round to my Grandma's house and doing all sorts of things that seem really strange now that I'm looking back at them. But sometimes those memories come flooding back, triggered by random things that happen by surprise.

It happened last night. I went out for a million or so beers with a couple of friends in Bar Serafim in Rua Alice, Larangeiras, and of of them ordered tongue and onions for us to share. The memories of Grandma's sandwiches returned and I couldn't help but smile. Who would have thought that all these years on, and so far away, I would be pondering my bickering grandfolks and getting the beers in. - It really was excellent, although I have to admit not something I would have plumbed for myself. Must remember to remain more adventurous in my menu perusal.

Anyhow if Lingua Cebolada is not your thing, then the rest of the Portugues menu is also superb and the location is smashing. I´ll be back.

Did you just stick your tongue out?

Itatiaia! (again)

We don't have a car either!

A recent post from fellow bloggers Qualidade de Vida inspired me to let the universe know that we don't have a car either! A year and a bit into our adventure and I don't reckon we'll ever have one either. Driving in Rio is not for the feint hearted and taxis, buses, boats (not to mention the slowly expanding metro*) all ensure that we get from A to B and back again all in one piece.

Once in a while, however, our desire to head for the hills means that we hire a car and take off for the weekend. Its not that we can't do it on the bus (we often do) - its just that sometimes there is no substitute for a ride into the wilderness with nearest and dearest. And once in a while that means splashing out R$550 odd for a 1 litre VW to join the loopy Carioca racetrack.

This time we visited Hotel Pousada Esmeralda - a few hours drive out of town and a few kilometres from the entrance to the Itatiaia National Park.

The hospitality was just what the doctor ordered - three hearty meals a day and ducks quacking their way around the place to the delight of our little man.

One thing that I love about Brazilians in a restaurant is just how seriously they take their food, and just how eloquently they describe every last morsel. Now this means that when something is worth complimenting the whole table can pretty much sing together to the glory of the potatoe. I'm not kidding.

And equally if the punters decide that something needs sending back for a 5th and 6th time, then so be it. I've seen the patience of a hundred waiters unabashed by the most discerning of diners.

Anyhow, Pousada Esmeralda does the trick. Proper hearty mountain food. Somehow a trip into the mountains seems so mean that the tourists need to ignore the fact that its still in the mid 20's and wrap up like they're on some sort of polar expidition. This is a place for fondue and log fires. Honest.

Anyhow - if the hulabuloo is all a bit much and you fancy a trip out,  then why not pull on the old hiking boots?

*metro will eventually be so crowded they might need Tokio style 'pushers' to squash the punters in at busy times....

Reasons to feel like a cheerful Carioca. Part 1.

We have houseguests again! - Always a welcome diversion and a chance to rediscover this and that. I don´t reckon I´ll ever tire of nipping up Pão de Açúcar. This lastest time included a sunset that I´ll remember for a while!

Anyhow - when people visit and I have to work, I try took line them up with a few bits and bobs to supplement what the Lonely Planet has to offer. And this time I`ve noticed that I`m actually starting to develop a slightly more natural rapport with this cidade maravilhosa. This in turn makes me feel like I actually (and only occasionally) know what I'm doing.

1. I know bus numbers.
2.  I know where to peep out of the cab window to grab a cheeky view.
3. I have first hand experience of at least a dozen conveyors of pork sandwiches.
4.  I have a carioca card. (though I don't really know why)
5.  I drink coffee sold from the back of some bloke`s car.
6. I don't notice that the bus driver seems to be posessed by the devil anymore.
7. I read the paper on the metro. (well.... I actually only read the easy bits)
8. I'm developing a creative sense of timekeeping. (not sure if this is a good thing)
9. I've started folding all my money into a big wedge that actually amounts to very little.
10. I've used my credit card to buy a coffee.
11. I've sat on a bench outside a restaurant queing to get in.
12. I've worn outlandish fancy dress in public.
13. I'm developing a tolerance for beer beyond my wildest dreams.
14. I sometimes find myself eating a piece of toast with a napkin.
15. I eat feijao in the pub with my 2 year old.

Now  - I know these are small moves - and I know that I'll forever be a big tall 'rob me' gringo - but for the moment at least, I feel like I've turned a corner. Get in.

(still reckon it'll be a while before I go to the supermarket in a pair of swimming trolleys though)

Sanduíche de pernil com abacaxi

Tada!

Now, at this time of resolutions, it really is hard sometimes to decide what to give up or take up. I decided this lunchtime to become an expert in this Don of sandwiches. Our guests of the moment were seriously impressed - and to be honest, who wouldn't be.

So, next time you roast an elephantine leg of pork - stick an obnoxiously over the top wedge of it between  two bits of bread. Add onion and chilli sauce and top with a slice of pineapple (yep, you heard right).

You'll never look back.

Happy new year.

Holiday Wednesday

Back in the UK, random days off usually happen on a Monday. No Idea why - here they happen on whichever day has been bagged by the occasion deemed worthy of allowing the nation to do as it pleases for 24 hours.

So, it was bank holiday Wednesday today, and I've had a mini weekender all in 24 hours. Last night (Tuesday, but effectively Friday)  I hit the glorious Pavão Azul  in Copacabana, and behaved precisely like it was Friday night. I was, after all celebrating having made it through 37 years relatively unscathed.

Chicken, feijao and beer.

This morning (Wednesday) was effectively Saturday, so me an the little rascal watched kids TV and then headed out for an early lunch (which was effectively Saturday night) - we had Galeto and he demolished an unholy amount of feijao. Good news, 'cause he spent the next 2 hours (effectively Sunday lunchtime) spark out in the buggy, and I whiled away the time at one of my prefered kiosks watching the world go by. Many of the 'world' were, incidentally, a thousand or so pissed up students on their 'Dawn of the Dead' style zombie march. Quite entertaining.

The Brama kiosk, just near Barraca 86 - Barraca de Fatima

The he woke up, and I spent Sunday afternoon in the park with Jed (see what I did there?). And then our early evening scran was at the old favourite on Belford Roxo - Pizza and a bottle of Original to boot.

And no Sunday on a Wednesday is complete without chasing after your child while he tries to drive...

Now its Sunday night and I'm snoozy to say the least. And its Thursday tomorrow. Only 2 days till next weekend. Get in!

Put your dirty foot in it...

The million or so local boozers in rio (botequins) are affectionately known as  pé sujos or `dirty feet bars`. I love that.

So, where should I dip my toe in? - In Copacabana there is a local boozer every 20 feet or so. And they vary in quality (and friendliness) much like they do in any UK city. I guess the best advice is just to go for it. Order a beer and put your feet up for a while. Just people watch. I love that too.

My local  pé sujos is simply wonderful. From the moment I set foot inside they were great. And I couldn`t speak a work of Portuguese without having a minor meltdown. Its called Saci-Pererê on Rua inhanga in Copacabana. The same guys are in there from one day to the next - and a friendly nod is about the extent of our communication, - but to be honest, a friendly nod is perfect.

Saci-Pererê incidentally is a folkloric character that the kids (including mine) learn about at nursery. Interestingly, he only has one leg, so I suppose that makes my local one of few `dirty foot` bars.

The food is to die for. Especially if you`re a fat bastard. R$10 buys grilled chicken, chips, rice and feijão. There`s enough for a family, but don`t let that put you off buying it just for you - thats what the hoards do at lunchtime. And they scran it as if their life depended on it. Probably `cause they have to hot foot it back to work.

In the evening its a more pedestrian affair, and somewhat more civilised. Unless the ode boys playing dominoes in the square kick off for whatever reason - just pace yourself. Its easy to get carried away and go one massive bottle too far. (this is where I sampled the deadly Paulista Fogo) But still - its there to be drunk. 

I wouldn`t use the bathroom though. Its the result of an international projectile pissing competition. Go in there and you really will be wiping your feet on the way out.

This from Rocinha - Don`t put your foot in your mouth

And remember - only a fool tests the depth of the water with both feet.

How to escape for the weekend.....

The possibilities are endless, and even though we only seem to have explored a fraction of the city, sometimes there is simply no substitute for just taking off and grooving at another address. (ouch, did I really say that?)

We hired a car on Friday - not a cheap option at R$150ish a day (including all insurance) and blasted over the Niteroi bridge, headed for Cabo Frio. We drove the 200km in 3 hours or so and the week of work was a mere distant memory.

The delightful 'La Plage' Hotel, Pero, Cabo Frio

Our accommodation was a cross between Fawlty Towers and the Overlook Hotel in 'The Shining' - everything was proper knackered, and our room included a concrete spiral staircase leading up to the double bedded area. Everything was at least a bit of a health risk, be it a rusty nail or a twenty-foot plummet or a curiously gaffer-taped electric shower. Nice.

So how did we stumble upon such a gem? - Peixe Urbano, the internet offer site, advertised it a while ago and we bought it on a whim. Still, at least the beach was a belter.

There is something about seaside towns out of season. Some folks are dilligently getting ready for the wave of punters  on the horizon, some are desperately competing for the cash of the few intrepid tourists that have stumbled by early, and some just can't be arsed to do anything. Hotel La Plage couldn't even manage to rustle up a breakfast worth more than 5/10. Bless em. They were probably too busy not cleaning the pool, or checking that half the light bulbs needed changing.

At least the beach was a total stunner

Saturday was spent doing beers and sun/wind bathing. The beaches around this area really are special. So special in fact, that even if your hotel royally takes the piss in the hospitality stakes, you are still going to arrive home on Sunday evening with the batteries recharged. What is the something about alfresco seafood and beer that puts the world to rights?

Cobal Perspectives....

Cobal do Humaita, Rua Voluntários da Pátria, 446 e 448

This place has got everything. A fruit and veg market with a generous smattering of coffee shops, bars, vitners, restaurants, you name it.

Its open from early to late and if as informal as you like - I ve been a couple of times now and the crowd don´t really come here to be seen, they just come to chill out and have a beer, or do some shopping or buy a cushion, you name it (yep, you name it again...)

Come to think of it, its really hard to put this place into any category at all. Think marketplace meets nightclub meets live band meets car park meets furniture shop, you name it (?*!). All under a collection of mashed together corregated rooves. If this was back home it would be rougher than Catford Broadway. Here in Humaita it´s just a wonderful place to sit out and ponder the labours of the day. Christo, as ever is looking out over the place, and just in case he fails to keep the peace, a selection of armed private security guards are on hand at each gate to lend a gentle hand if required. Always nice to know you´re in good hands either way.

That´s the spirit

We went to 'Espirito do Chopp' where, believe it or not, great big towers of beer are served at your table and you can help yourself. Rude not to give it a go. Twice.

And if you're not blotto by the time you leave, Cobal has a nightclub! - I never ventured up the steps, but the with a name like 'Farup' I guess it might only be a matter of time.

Post Gig Bite and a Natter?

Why not listen while you read?

There is a love of nattering amoung all performers. I suppose it comes from spending hours and hours killing time in cafes and pubs and service stations the world over. It came as absolutely no surprise that in Rio, the nattering has been going on in Style for decades.


La Fiorentina restaurant in Leme (near the end of Av. Atlantica) is a wonderful glimpse into the gigging life of the Carioca performers throughout the decades. Many have left their photos or signed their name on the wall. MPB composer Ary de Resende Barroso even left a bloody great bronze statue of himself.

We stopped by for pizza and pasta Sunday lunchtime. Wonderful, if a little pricey. Still, it beats a pasty in an M1 services at 3am. And that´s always a little pricey too.

Apparently they stay open until the last person leaves. Might be perfect as the last stop after a boozy one in Lapa. Who knows, if I pull my finger out I might be allowed to sign the wall one day.

Fancy a tall, stiff one?

Gadding about - Arraial do Cabo

This was a slightly warmer day...

The sea at Praia Grange, Arraial de Cabo  reminded me of the time I  swam in the Baltic Sea on a trip around Lithuania. Fortunately now that I am older and wiser, I stopped short of a full-on swim and called it a day once I'd dipped my big toe. Quite enough of that thank you very much. Apparently some feat of nature helped this stretch of water reach -2 degrees earlier in the year. Watching a Carioca take a dip in that would be a sight to behold.

The unusual temperature is explained by uninterrupted stretches of water reaching the south pole, according to Alex, the guy who sorted us out with a cool box full of tinnies. Its also the reason that there are types of fish here not seen elsewhere in Brazil. So There you have it.

Spectacular beach though, by even the snobbiest standards. And its some 50 kilometres long, so you can grab your own private bit of paradise if you don't mind a stroll.

We stayed a couple of nights at the pousada recanto do atalaia - just five minutes from the beach. A real warm welcome - even with a noisy nearly two-year-old. We'd definitely go back, even just to have one more night between the jungle-style sheets. Very Austin Powers.

oh my good grief

and this little piggy walked all the way home...

Ipanema Market Av. Visconde de Pirajá, 499 - Lunch of distinction

Click here for the website

Even the furniture looks better than Ian Beal's fruit and veg stall.

Ooooh - what a treat. If you fancy splashing out on a fancy lunch then this might well be the place for you.

We had skewers and mash. Literally a rare treat. Ladies had black risotto and cous cous. The risotto was probably made by the God of rice himself. No kidding. Greg Wallace would have shat his pants.

All accompanied by posh booze and coffee with a teaspoon of fudge on the side. Cute touch I thought.

Not exactly the lunch I could stretch to on a weekly basis, but quite the place to prove you can keep up with the Jones' if that seriously is still your thing.

Now, I may very well have not let him in...

Also, if you need any incentive to get up in the morning - the breakfast menu looks rather spectacular too.

For a more foody revew (or if you simply don't trust me) try here.

How do you like your eggs in the morning?

Midweek Breakfast Panic......

Now theres no point starting the day on an empty stomach, and here in Rio there is absolutely no excuse whatsoever. My daily coffee and fresh bread is such a staple part of my life now I feel as though I might come slightly unhinged without it. Who would have thought? Anyhow, if by some freak of nature (and believe me they happen here) I don't make it to work before breakfast is snatched back into the kitchen, there are literally hundreds of en route possibilities worth considering. I'm not kidding. On wednesday this week I bought a coffee and a sarnie from some bloke selling them from the boot of his car. Absolutely top notch.

Weekend breakfast delights....

Now, since the patter of tiny feet, hung over lie-ins have become more modest to say the least. Hangovers though, I have to say are still plentiful and getting worse as a speed towards dementia. Thanks heavens for the marvellous Copacabana saturday morning breakfasts. They truly save lives. Here's how.

This morning we amble along the road for 5 minutes and stopped at Big bi's (I reckon there a few) - and bought:

• Toast+butter
• Pineapple Juice (fresh as a daisy)
• 2 coffees with milk
• Cheese and ham pastry (called a joelho)
• Esfha de Carne (mince meat and veg pastry)
• pão de queijo (cheesy bread balls)

Wonderful - all fresh, and served with a smile - the bill? R$16 - just over 6 quid.

Coffee here, as you might expect, is everywhere and really varies in quality, but at these places, a 'Cafe Media' with milk is a small work of art. Take the time to watch your waiter pour the milk and coffee it precisely the proportions you want. Does it really make a difference? - Apparently so. And always remember that if you want to add the entire sugar bowl to this carefully crafted concoction, then that's absolutely fine.

Now - if you want to splash out, there are loads of places the hungover chic Carioca set like to be seen recomposing after a heavy night. Last weekend we went to Santa Satisfação. The honey was amazing - and I'm not that bothered about honey. Ra ra ra - you get the idea.

Anyhow, I reckon we could do breakfast out for years without exhausting the possibilities. How do you eat yours?

I can't get no place to sit down...

Ever had a glorious lost weekend?

My student days were largely lost. Not just the weekends either. I would occasionally even stir from my heavenly resting place after the latest in a series of parties of my life and realise I'd missed a nine o clock lecture. By a day and a half.

Well, this weekend was a touch different, although as I sit here trying to piece it all together it occurs to me that the glorious weekend must have involved more than just a couple of cheeky ones. We did some really cool bits and bobs though - so if you're interested, here are the headlines.

Saturday was a lazy morning with lunch from the local bakery/petrol station. This place is an institution, and I'm sure I'll bang on about it for years to come.  Anyhow, given that the world (or at least the world that I'm familiar with) seems to be football obsessed, we decided that it might be time to just roll with it. We met up with a crowd at INVICTO - "Sports and Fun Restaurant" to watch events unfold. Pretty good boozy fun really - and our little man joined in where he could. As the afternoon progressed, his banter seemed more and more profound and sensible. Come to think of it I was concentrating so hard on the refreshing Bohemia, I must have forgotten to pay closer attention to the game. Still, I'm sure I can ask a few of the United fans I know to enlighten me.

Anyway - this bar was pretty trendy, and had one of the infamous 'consumption card' systems. Best get used to these. Its like a reverse debit card. You just collect one when you arrive and go as mental as you like. Everything you buy goes on the card. Three course meal, bottle of vodka, beers for everyone, you name it. All you have to do is pay it off and collect a ticket so you can leave. I've heard some pretty grim stories about what happens when these cards get lost. Still, not to worry, I can't imagine how anyone could be so daft - especially after 2 barrels of booze and a bag of chips (which cost a tenner, incidentally)

And so onto the lagoa for a lovely evening stroll ending at 'Bar Lagoa' - where apparently the waiters can be a bit arsey. This is a real Carioca institution - frequented by misty-eyed students, pensioners and novella stars alike. Our waiter was a top bloke - shame really, I was expecting the full-blown quasi Parisien snort. Never mind, I'm sure if we go again we could ask for someone a bit pissed off.

Maybe if I kicked him in the knackers....

All bottled up

Now, I was always partial to filling the trolley with a selection of as much beer as possible, and as such I've regularly sampled bottled beer till it has emerged from my lugholes. Imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon a healthy selection of English real ale in Rio Design earlier. I tell you what, if the urge to taste the sublime bottled genius of Marstons and the like hits me, then I might just get a bottle or two. Heaven knows how much it costs - this is one of those places where there are no price tags.
I could never have imagined that there would be a day when a pint of pedigree would be deemed a designer label.

Shit hot. I've been a style guru for years. Effortless chic mate, that's me all over. Pork scratching anyone?








Posted from my mobile! Assuming I haven't been mugged.

Breakfast of kings

The Cafe Imperial, Rua Vouluntarios da Patria

Coffee, beef sandwich,death by chilli. Take a bow Andy, you did very very well.

This place reeks of tradition. And it does everything with style. If this place were in London, people would travel from far and wide. Once a weekish, this is where I treat myself, however deserving! This cafe is worth a 6000 mile commute for any self respecting member of the modern workforce. Have the chilli sauce, even if you only stop by for an apple. Bloody hell. Nuff said.

Location:R. Voluntários da Pátria,Rio de Janeiro,Brazil

Told you it was old - here it is way back when...

Dial out....

Nothing like Baba ghanoush on a motorbike

I know its unremarkable for most people, but I feel I should announce that we just ordered takeaway food online. This most basic pastime represents our Carioca coming of age. This was the first time we have embarked on any such mission without encountering a single obstacle.

We used disk cook, which provided a good list of local restaurants. Sure, you have to sign up here, enter all manner of personal details and generally faff about, but we are slowly getting used to all that. The main thing was the food arrived within the alloted time, it was what we ordered, and we didn't have to venture out in the pissing rain. Spot on.

So, what did we eat? We ate arabic, from the swanky place down on the seafront. We've always fancied giving it a try. Jill would love it! Would I disk cook again? Yep. Especially when pushing the buggy through a monsoon seems like being as much fun as punching yourself in the face.

Back in Brighton, we ordered internet pizza sometimes. It was always crap.

Keep it Informal...

Can you guess the dress code?

Now, I usually avoid chain restaurants, in favour of smaller, more intimate dining experiences. To be honest I enjoy the game of culinary Russian roulette. You might just uncover a hidden gem. On the otherhand you might get shot in the head with a dose of week-long botulism.

Last night we went for a chain place. No idea of the size of the chain. Its called 'Informal' on Nossa Senora de Copacabana. Just around the corner from my local (which I really must get around to writing about).

Anyhow, Informal was great. Honestly priced menu (mostly traditional Brazilian fare) And Antartica Original in fun-sized bottle (and by fun-sized I mean fun, not miserable and small - I call those ´no fun whatsoever sized´

We plummed for pasteis. How predictable.We chose a cozy little table for three overlooking the traffic jam and relaxed as afternoon turned into early evening and the unbridled psychotic aggression of the nearby motoristas subsided into mild anarchy. Ahhh.

A Botequim - Fun sized watering hole.