Run by husband and wife team Luiza and Marcello, Justine Grill sits unexpectedly on a leafy corner of Hunters Hill. Exposed brick, white paint and dark wood fit out a cosy, modern interior that feels a bit like a rural gastropub. To start, Crispy Quail ($25) is too tempting to go past, and sufficiently moreish to result in unbecoming bone-gnawing.
If you’ve worked in a Sydney office, you’ve probably experienced a Brazilian all you can eat meat-feast on the boss’s dime. The stop/go paddles keeping the meat coming/at bay, with the whole thing feeling hectic and wolfish.
You’d be forgiven for thinking designer Mike Delany dropped a tab of acid before choosing this riotous colour scheme. It’s alarming, that is until a few Panamargaritas ($17) get your lips tingling with jalapeno, aloe drink, agave and tequila, and ease you into the swing of things.
Yes, it’s in a club. Now we have that out of the way, this deceptively exciting restaurant affords you chance to sit in a gorgeous glass box overlooking Coogee Beach.
I know Bridesmaids gave all-you-can-eat Brazilian a bad name, but Sydneysiders have clearly moved on, because this joint was pumping on a cold Friday night. The bright murals and good-looking Brazilian staff are both eye-catching in their own right; and at $44 for unlimited meat, you can’t beat the price.
Unlike some of its South American neighbours, Argentinean cuisine isn’t about eating marathons of meat – this was nothing like the gaucho (meaning cowboy) grill I had in mind!
It may come as a surprise, but not all Brazilian has to be an endurance test in protein consumption. Petiscos or ‘tasty foods’ at this small bar accentuate an excellent list of cocktails including Sydney’s best Pisco Sour ($16).
In case the cooler weather hasn’t reminded you, Autumn’s on the way. So this week I thought I’d arm you with some foodie adventures to help you savour the last dregs of Summer.
“You’re new to Brazilian? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” echoes from a neighbouring table. And take care of you is exactly the Brazilian passadores do; their skin glistening as they man the churrasco before a back-lit image of Christ the Redeemer.
The maddening aromas of charcoal and meat captivate me every time I drive past. It’s taken me a while though, because Brazilian places are often a festival of meat without much else going on. I will now eat humble pie.