Dinner out...

It's raining and its fairly late, not by Chilean standards. We are looking for a place, apparently in this part of town, for some 'typical food from the north'. The town is in the middle of nowhere, or more like the middle of Brazil, a little spot called Niquelândia.

We find what we are looking for, I only know this because of the thumbs up we receive from the big guy behind the counter to whom we shouted the names of the typical dishes from our car window. We are the only ones there, besides the big guy. There are two tables inside and one outside. The furniture is of the garden variety, bright yellow beer company sponsored plastic.

You enter through two narrow roller doors, and the place is only just wider. Straight away you get the run-down dirty Cuban feel from the old pressed ceiling, the blown light bulb, old chest freezer, concrete floor and ceiling fan that seems not to have moved in ages. The walls were once all a mustardy colour, they are still mustardy where alterations, cracks, new windows and damp haven't taken control. Despite this the place is clean and welcoming.

In the immediate corner are the crates of old beer bottles. As you move across, the counter and mini tv catches your eye, a football game is on, competing with some not so modern pop falling out of a dodgy speaker. Behind the counter on the walls are rows of various cachaças, one of the shelves has a cardboard holder for disposable bic razor blades pinned to it. The light fades as you head towards the far corner behind the freezer with hinges indicating it is from a bygone day when people opened lids with conviction. The big guy lurks with a wonderful smile as he opens the first of the quarts. We are already friends, know the menu that doesn't exist, the score and that he doesn't have Shakira.

The far wall has a small A4 sign saying that this is a family atmosphere and people without shirts are not allowed. The last corner has a small hand basin, not sure if its been used - ever.

Someone takes up the outside table everyone is greeted and he gets a cachaça. It is about now that you start to understand Brazil. It is all about the simple pleasures, we are all sharing the same quart from small glasses (makes sense, the beer stays cold), the food is talked about, and seemingly nothing is continually discussed all night.

Right now the Ritz can't come close, what we have can't be created by the finest chef and interior decorator. What we have is no pretense food, great beer and awesome company, besides here we get offered seconds and don't have to order the next bottle (it just seems to arrive). What a spot! Now just have to gather friends from around the world.






























Excuse the iffy phone photos...