Brazilians Do it Better

We are trying to decide between the CAIPIRINHA and the CAIPIROSKA. One has Brazilian chacaca (no, we don't know what this is), the other features vodka. Both contain lime juice and sugar. We ask the waiter which one is sweeter, and he kindly allows us to butcher the menu with half-assed guesses at pronounciations. He says the caipiroska. Done. Of course this leaves us with a lingering question: what the hell is chacaca? We ask Jeeves, but all we find out is that it is a Brazilian spirit. Gee, thanks Jeeves. Jeeves, why don't you go suck it, already?

So, back to wining and dining.

We order the PALMITO AO FORNO--hearts of palm mixed with other veggies and baked in a parmesan cream sauce. It's yummy in taste, but we feel the dish could use some rice. We aren't used to a bunch of cheese and veggies with no carbohydrate backdrop. So we steal some from our 21-month-old dinner companion, who wasn't doing anything with it but throwing it on the floor. Now it's perfect. On the side we have fried banana slices and sweet honey mustard sauce for dipping. They call them banana tots and we likey.

And how's your dish? we ask our other dinner companion. The one that eats meat and gets seven refills of Dr. Pepper. Really good, he says. It must be. He doesn't say this kind of thing often. Okay is the word we always hear. Really good? It must be freaking awesome. By the way, he ordered the POLLO MAGDALENA, which is described as "red tortilla encrusted chicken breast stuffed with crabmeat, cheese, and spinach. Served with ancho cream sauce, vegetables, and rice."

Our waiter is awesome. He's quick and he's pleasant. We notice that all the waiters appear to be dark-haired men in all black. They seem cheerful and unfrazzled. Perhaps it is our caipiroska that makes us see the world with such rosy hues, but despite the spoonfulls of rice being launched in our direction, we are happy here.

We are drunk, full, and very satisfied. Thank you São Paulo's. And next time we promise to try the chacaca.