Brasa! Brasa! Brasa! (or This Day is Brought to You by the Letter B pt. 1)

I got to start my Halloween weekend in the most delicious way.

After a terrible Thursday and a shaky Friday morning, my new friend/Minny tour guide decided I needed to go to Brasa to cheer up.  He was right; he was oh so right.

(Funnily enough a cousin had just suggested adding Brasa to my wish list the day before.  Also, although I am a big fan of meat, I probably wouldn't choose this place based on it's website or menu alone - I like it, but Caribbean just doesn't usually land at the top of my cravings.)

The day was sunny and warm and my mood started to improve as soon as we hit the Hennepin Avenue Bridge crossing into Northeast.  When we scooted into the little parking lot and I saw the outside patio and the big glass door/walls of the restaurant I had a feeling I was in for a treat.

It started as soon as we walked in the door.  The aroma was one of the best I have ever experienced, and it was matched perfectly with the warm colors of the place, the warmer afternoon sun that was streaming into the restaurant, and the friendly employees on both sides of the kitchen. It was as intoxicating as something entering your nose can be without actually being intoxicating.  It was marvelous.

The menu had the things I usually note - mentioning they get their goods from local growers, and enough items for a good selection but not so many you picture a kitchen full of canned and frozen items, and, reasonable prices (enough that I wouldn't worry it's discount meat, but not too much for a lunch). 

We ordered a 1/4 pound each of the Rotisserie Chicken, Pulled Chicken, Slow & Roasted Pork, and Braised Beef, plus side orders of Yams & Andouille, Cheese Grits, and Sweet Plantains.

My view after we moved to a bigger table to accommodate all the food:

 

His:

The meat was all things meat should be...  The sauces had so much flavor but with complexity, not just sweet or salt... The sides were bursts of delicious...

The pulled chicken was served in a cream sauce with it that was just creamy enough to be smooth and savory without reminding you of cream of whatever out of a can, and it balanced with the tender shreds of chicken just right.  The beef was so tender, with a little bite but just enough, with a sweet/sour sauce that seemed to just emphasize the flavors of the meat itself.  The shredded pork leaned towards dry, but the texture was perfect - some crispiness, some chewiness, just enough saltiness, and a little lime squeeze livened it all up.  The rotisserie chicken was good, not my favorite, but with everything else it was almost an afterthought.

The grits were cooked perfectly with a little bite, not too much, so you could tell it was cornmeal but didn't have to work at it.  I would have liked a little more cheese on top, but I know I go to the extremes with my cheese consumption so that might be just me.  The yams tasted earthy and good, and the sausage with them had a tiny bit of heat, but was so tasty with the smokiness and smoothness of it all together.  I haven't tasted the likes of the sweet plantains since I lived in Puerto Rico.  They were creamy and sweet on the inside, with a solid and full texture, and some caramelized bits on the outside.  They came with a little side of sauce that had some dill in it, and tasted nice, but was sort of superfluous with all the flavor happening everywhere else.

This meal was so good.  This restaurant was so good.  I am going to go back often, and if you are anywhere near, you should too. 

Up next:  Barbette Take Me Away (or This Day is Brought to You by the Letter B pt. 2)

Let's Eat

I love food. 

I love especially what happens to people when they share a meal, or some wine, or even better, both. 

My sister described what I love as “celebratory eating experiences.”  I thought – isn’t every eating experience celebratory?  I love eating not just for nourishment but pleasure, because I believe good food is one of the very few pure pleasures in this life.

I spent the last three years of my life on a farm in Healdsburg, California thinking about food, wine, and everything that comes with it for most of my waking hours.  I’ve gotten to watch a pig turn into pork, olives to oil, grapes to wine, and chicken to dinner (for 150 people, no less).  I’ve gotten to eat dinner with some of the best chefs on the west coast, often from something that was hunted or harvested within hours of when we ate it.  

I cannot write about my passion for eating and everything that comes with it without trying to make clear that I understand that I have been privileged in my experiences with food.  I understand that for too many people food is only about nourishment and that it’s a struggle to just have enough.  I appreciate deeply that I’ve been able to have the education and experiences I have had around meals.

It was a difficult decision to leave Sonoma County for many reasons, not the least of which that it's one of the best places in the world for someone like me; someone who loves to eat and cares about where her food comes from, and where everyone's food comes from.  I chose Minneapolis  for many reasons too, not the least of which is that it's populated with a high concentrate of people who care about the same.  I am in Minneapolis now, as of two weeks ago, and and I have so much to explore; restaurants (within walking distance!), farmers markets, co-ops, pubs…  So much to taste and eat and drink.  So much to write about.