There are a few things about Brazil and its cuisines that you probably should know before you lift your fork. Of course you can skip ahead to the reviews, but you'll be left wondering what Lebanese meatballs are doing on a Brazilian menu, and what you're supposed to do with the weird pile of tan cracker-meal on your plate. So -- Brazil sprawls over a vast area nearly the size of the United States, and although even its southernmost border is on a latitude equivalent to New Orleans', it's not all rain forests, beaches, and sugar plantations: There's also mining country, cowboy country, wine country, industrial cities, et al. And like the U.S., it's an international melting pot, but with different ingredients, and more interracial mingling. (Unlike the U.S., its birds of different feathers have long flocked together.) Its first main ethnic groups were Amerinds, Portuguese, Africans, and then Germans. Next came Italians, Japanese, Lebanese, and Eastern Europeans, all of them contributors to the country's varied menu.
All three of San Francisco's Brazilian restaurants boast cooks from a single region, the northeastern, coastal province of Bahia -- home of Brazil's most fascinating food. The influences of Portugal, Africa, and the indigenous peoples meld there into a spicy, luscious tropical cuisine, the edible quintessence of the national culture. (Elsewhere in the country, people eat steaks, pizza, or even wurst.) When it's at home, the Bahian kitchen includes dried and smoked meats and fish, fresh seafood, coconut milk, ground nuts, corn, okra, tropical fruits (including lemon and lime juices as important flavorings), dende (red palm) oil, sugar, and powerful condiments, especially the scorching hot peppers native to the region -- members of the devilish habanero family. (San Francisco's Bahian restaurants, protecting tender yanqui palates, cut way back on the cooked-in peppers, but furnish do-it-yourself spicy table sauces.)
Along with the rice and beans common to Iberian colonial cuisines, Bahia's staple starch is the native cassava, also called manioc root, made from yucca (a tropical leafy plant, not the Mexican cactus of the same name). Yucca root is used as a flour, a starchy vegetable, a farinalike porridge, a sauce base, and a table condiment called farofa -- that heap of beige grits you'll find alongside most of your entrees, looking like casserole topping, hold the casserole. Brazilians sprinkle this toasted manioc flour over almost everything, even pizza. Since farofa is a developed taste that I haven't yet developed, the renditions at all three restaurants tasted about the same to me.
Two of us had two meals at each of the Brazilian trinity, starting downtown and heading west; the first round was in early spring (to make up for not getting to Bahia for the real, pre-Lent Carnaval), the second round, last week. Since comparisons are as inevitable as they are supposedly odious, I decided in advance to try at least one seafood dish from each of the three, and one feijoada completa, the "national dish" of Brazil. Native to Rio, it's a stew of black beans, with various meats and sausages cooked separately and introduced into the beans shortly before serving; feijoada is always served with sides of pilaf-style rice, couve (sauteed shredded collard greens), farofa, and orange slices.
Cafe do Brasil (aka Brazilian Fruit Basket)
If we could put together the best features of all three restaurants, the side dishes would come from Cafe do Brasil. With its sublime rice and beans, bright, fresh table sauce, and amazingly edible greens, this double-named restaurant is also probably the best Brazilian choice for vegetarians.
With big windows on both Mission and Seventh Street, the middle-size room has a dark yellow and Shaker-green color scheme, rugs enough to keep the sound level reasonable, marble-topped tables, and large houseplants to imply a tropical ambience. A bulletin board along one wall includes numerous grateful postcards from travelers (former guests of two large midprice motels nearby) who were lucky enough to fix on Cafe do Brasil for their breakfasts. Lunchtimes, the place is rocking; daytime meal choices are interesting but basically American. Evenings are much quieter, and Brazilian specialties dominate the dinner menu and the music.
Our meals began with a very light-textured club roll, split and spread with chopped garlic toasted in oil. Appetizers are any three for $4.95. Quibe (which Middle Eastern restaurants usually spell "kibbeh") are deep-fried Lebanese beef dumplings, shaped like miniature footballs. They were pleasant, very salty but lighter than many Middle Eastern restaurants make them. Pastel Samuel was a thin-crusted baked cheese turnover. Empadas (miniature pies) were reminiscent of dim sum tartlets (or Trini-Venezuelan "arepas") with flavorful crumbly dough shells made partly of corn flour, and a rather plain filling of finely minced chicken which worked wonderfully with the crust. With the appetizers came a delightful dipping sauce of sweetened vinegar with hot peppers and cilantro, resembling dips you get in Thai restaurants. The competent waiter was Asian-Brazilian, and I wouldn't be surprised if the cook were, too.
Xin xin ($8.95, and more commonly spelled xim xim) is pronounced "shinh shinh"; this version was an eccentric take on a Bahian classic. It had shredded dark-meat chicken (rather than the more usual serving pieces) with sliced okra in a pleasant but timid sauce. Although the menu specified "prawn sauce," we didn't see any prawns, but perhaps the liquid included ground dried shrimp. Moqueca de peixe ($10.25) consisted of red snapper sauteed with bell peppers and onions in a coconut milk sauce. The sauce was rich and very tasty, and the fish was tender but tasted as though it hadn't been caught yesterday. Our second dinner's camarao a Baiana ($13.50) had six plump medium-large prawns, just slightly overcooked, in a gorgeous coconut milk sauce with sauteed peppers and onions. With its clear, rich flavors, this was the best of the seafood dishes at all three restaurants. We wanted it spiced up; but the few rings of jalapeno were put into the pot late, and the surrounding sauce remained mild. These main courses all came with the same side dishes (including the inevitable farofa). A slightly stingy portion of scrumptious pilaf-style rice had long, plump grains permeated with some tasty broth. Collard greens are normally bitter; here, fine-shredded, they had been mysteriously tamed, and tasted good enough to eat.
Soupy black beans were intriguingly spiced, with a clove flavor paramount. The same delicious beans were the basis of the feijoada ($6.95 for a small portion, $10.25 for full size). The small version had plenty of beans but precisely one slice of franklike sausage, three tiny shreds of beef, and one wee bone. For dessert we chose the intense-flavored passion-fruit mousse ($3.50) with a fine balance of sweet, sour, and creamy flavors. The espresso was good, the wine and beer choices barely adequate.
Bahia Cabana
Full o' beans, we headed west to Bahia Cabana, at Market and Haight. Originally, owner Valmor Neto opened a bright, charming restaurant called Bahia a block away from the current site. A few years later, the owner decided to open the nightclub, and as his attention sambaed away from the restaurant, food and service quality waned. A few years ago, Neto finally closed Bahia and brought its menu to the Cabana, where patrons can now fuel up for dancing on tropical eats.
It's a big, dark space with a lot of decor. The walls are brick and the floor is red, with a raised platform (for the band) at one end, backed by a vast hand-painted tropical mural. Diners usually sit in the "cabana" -- another platform at the edge of the dance floor, with wicker chairs and tables, a small fountain, and a low-occupancy fish tank, in which we spotted a lone catfish apparently wriggling to the Carnaval music coming from the loudspeakers. Wall deincludes stained-glass windows above the front door, "Bahia Is Happiness" travel posters on the cabana wall, and serene paintings of Brazilian rural life brought from the restaurant. A giant TV screen plays videos of Carnaval in Bahia, with many multiracial bare-breasted damsels making serpentine terpsichorean motions.
Although the doors open at 5, the kitchen takes awhile to get going. At normal dinner hour (say, 8 p.m.), it's still no problem to get a table; even on weekends it's lonesome until the show starts (at 10 p.m., an hour before the kitchen closes). The paucity of dinner patrons apparently afflicted our miniskirted waitress with a profound ennui: She spent most of her time on the pay phone or hanging out with her colleagues at the bar. For starters we tried camarao ao molho ($7.95), a small portion of smallish, overcooked prawns sauteed with onions, garlic, and hot pepper, which we found spicy but dull. Better were the salty, slightly spicy coxinha de galinha ($3.50), a chicken croquette, and a very tasty bolino de bacalhau ($3.50), a salt-cod croquette with a creamy interior. These came with a stale-tasting cooked dipping salsa. At our second dinner, we had to request hot sauce, and while the waitress made a phone call another staffer brought a ramekin of dried-pepper table sauce, its rancid oil flavor indicating too long a stay on other tables. Still suffering the ravages of a large, gluttonous party the previous night, the kitchen was out of most appetizers, but we enjoyed salada de camarao ($7.95), a shrimp salad consisting mainly of lettuce in a good creamy dressing. The scattering of large prawns arrived tenderly cooked to order, but this may have been because the party had eaten all the precooked shrimp. Garnishes included sweet Maui onion slices, excellent hearts of palms and wine-vinegared green olives, and succulent eggplant slices with the texture of avocado. It'd make a good light dinner to kick off a night of booty-shaking. It also suggests that most of Bahia Cabana's ingredients are of high enough quality; when the food fails, it's from a lack of caring.
Pernil recheado ($9.95) made an outstanding main course, a succulent and full-flavored slab of roast pork leg stuffed with vegetables, olives, and bacon. But besides farofa, it came with some DOA black beans, a heap of inedibly bitter couve, and plump rice that tasted like Rice-A-Roni minus the "seasoning packet." Bobo de camarao ($11.95) was mildly pleasant, with slightly overcooked prawns in a starchy yucca sauce gently enlivened by the sweetness of cashews, and came with the same nasty rice and greens, as did (at the next dinner) moqueca de peixe ($11.95), red snapper simmered with tomatoes, bell peppers, and coconut milk. The snapper was tender and tasted fresh, but the unpleasant, muddy-flavored sauce was degraded by flakes of what tasted like some much older fish. The rendition of the national dish was treasonous: the feijoada ($9.95) had underseasoned beans, plenty of sawdust-dry beef cubes, and a single slice of franklike sausage.
The quintessential Bahian drink is the caipirinha, a cocktail of lime, sugar, ice, and cachaca, Brazilian "bush rum." Although the Cabana actually has a stock of commercially bottled cachaca, apparently we didn't rate any, as our caipirinhas tasted distinctly of vodka. For our first meal's dessert, we had a pleasant pudim de coco ($3.25), a coconut-milk-based flan.
Canto do Brazil
Propelled on wings of beans, the next night we found ourselves a couple of blocks east of Mission Dolores, at the cheerful, intimate Canto do Brazil. A homey, small room with a parakeet's yellow-and-green color scheme, its giant-size video screen projects the family version of Bahia Carnaval -- mainly Caucasian coeds, clothed, hopping up and down. The nonsync music covers the gamut of Brazilian pop. Delicious smells emanating from the open kitchen greet you as you enter.
If we were putting together the perfect Brazilian meal from our trio, Canto would sweep the appetizers. Mandioca frita ($3.95), french-fried yucca, tasted like good french fries, and came with a delicious dipping sauce of ripe fresh tomatoes, onions, and (that night, at least) dill pickle juice. Empadas ($2.95) gave us two tasty miniature chicken pot pies, with cilantro, corn, and peas enriching the minced poultry. A gigantic portion of calamari Brasileiro ($6.95) ranked with the city's best fried squid: The fat, greaseless calamari rings had been dipped in lemon juice and coated lightly with bread crumbs and an emphatic ration of salt. On our return visit we tried the superb kebe ($2.50), as salty as usual but well-flavored with cilantro and cumin, and lightened by tabouli and coarse-chopped onion. Garlic-wafted chicken wings ($3.95) were irresistible, slowly fried (uncoated) to crisp the skin, sprinkled with lemon juice, and served with slow-fried onions.
On our first visit several months earlier, the resident matriarch had been absent for several days, and while Mom's away, the kids may play. Both main courses were overcooked: Bobo de galinha ($6.95) had chicken breast sauteed almost inedibly dry, bathed in an authentic, garlic-touched sauce of yucca, coconut milk, and red palm (dende) oil. OK, these delicious fats are supposedly bad for you -- but will one dinner's worth kill you? A special (one that always seems to be on hand) called "tropical seafood" had assorted pisceans (shrimp, mussels, and chunks of salmon and rock cod); some were tender but most were badly overcooked, served in an underripe hollowed pineapple, with a nice coconut sauce colored red by yummy dende heart-attack oil. The spicy table sauce was among the hottest I've ever tasted. But on that visit, the beans were a pinkish-gray species from a can. The rice, both times, consisted of short, slim grains, cooked with no great inspiration. The couve was slightly (and pleasantly) oily, its bitterness halfway between Cafe do Brasil's and Bahia Cabana's.
Feijoada completa ($8) is available only on Saturdays and Sundays. (In Rio, it's the traditional Saturday midday meal -- since lunch is the day's main meal, nobody can eat feijoada on a workday and then stay awake on the job.) At our return to Canto, we finally found the city's only true feijoada! The beans had complex flavors (with cilantro the ringing top note), and there was meat in every bite, including kielbasa, tender pork, and beef. (What's more, the tastiest, most generous feijoada in town was also the lowest-priced.) Our other entree, the special paella, wasn't so hot -- the rice was harshly flavored with turmeric, and the plentiful seafood and chicken pieces were desiccated enough to rouse strong suspicions of death-by-nuker. However, the friendly, enthusiastic young waiter stopped by our table frequently to answer questions, chat about Brazilian food, and speculate about local retail sources for cachaca -- making this a very enjoyable dinner.
The sole regular dessert is an excellent chilled version of pudim de coco ($2.95), with coconut shreds in a custard with a pronounced coconut flavor, the mound resting on a light, thin caramel sauce. Among the beverages, the standout is Brazil's own Xingu beer (pronounced "shin-goo," it's $5.50 for a feeds-two bottle), which is gentle-flavored but strong-mannered, topped by malty fuzz like a hops milkshake.
While none of the local Bahian restaurants bring the full blast of authentic spiciness to their Yank-adapted food (and all of them tend to overcook shellfish), Canto do Brasil offers the most credible hot sauce, the most rewarding feijoada -- and, unself-consciously, the most genuine atmosphere. More than in restaurants of other nationalities, the friendly, comfortable service counted: If we couldn't go to Brazil, our waiter brought a Brazilian spirit to San Francisco.
Canto do Brazil
3621 18th St. (at Dolored), 626-8727. Tuesday through Friday 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. and 5 to 10 p.m., Saturday and Sunday 11 a.m. to 10 p.m. Street parking is difficult. Muni via the 33 bus or the J Church streetcar. The dining room is wheelchair accessible, the bathroom isn't. Takeout avaiable.
Cafe do Brasil (aka Brazilian Fruit Basket)
104 Seventh St. (at Mission), 626-6432. Open daily 6:30 a.m. to 9:30 p.m. Parking in unattended paid lot. Muni via all Mission and Market Street lines, as well as metro service to Civic Center. The restaurant is wheelchair accessible. Delivery available downtown.
Bahia Cabana
1600 Market (at Franklin), 861-4202. Doors open at 5 p.m., but actual food service is from 6 to 10 p.m. Sunday through Thursday, to 11 p.m. Friday and Saturday. Parking is difficult. Muni via all Market Street lines; also metro service to Van Ness. Bar tables and the dance floor are wheelchair accessible, the bathrooms aren't.
