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Man – I think I ate WAY too much last night.

There are limits to what Man can ingest, and I pushed those limits all the way. What can I say? I’m too much like a dog, who when presented with meat, will continue to eat until it is gone, not looking back to see if he shared with the others around him or contemplate the possibility of saving some for later or even room for “dessert.” I’m talking about the South American meal of Rodizio.
My compatriot and I were in the fine village of Newark, and after a long day of meetings and such, we needed refueling. So – we hit the Ironbound and went to the Brasilia Grill. Monroe Street, in case you were wondering.
If you hit the link you would have read about the “journalists” experience – let me tell mine.
We came in, sat down, handed back the menus as soon as we were handed them, and promptly ordered a pitcher of Red Sangria and of course – the Rodizio. We were early, so the side buffet wasn’t quite open yet. To supplant the table, we ordered up some garlic shrimp. The garlic is good for the heart, I hear. We would need it.
The next hour is blurry. We ate and ate and ate, as soon as they could bring it out, including the side dishes of red beans, rice, fries, collard greens and fried bananas. Skewers of freshly grilled chicken thighs, pork loin, turkey wrapped in bacon, beef ribs, sirloin tips, kabobs, pork ribs (we begged for them, as they only do them on weekends), and huge filets carved from the skewer to our plates. And chicken hearts. Yup – I ate a few of ‘em. I couldn’t resist – they came out hot – and were eaten just as fast. Not bad. It was neat seeing the little ventricles before gobbling them down, but tasty nonetheless.
Everything was simply salted and grilled. Delicious, but man – I am now effectively cured.
We wrapped it all up with an extra order of fried bananas and some flan. The extra caramel went well with the bananas and good cup of joe, to jump start the bod to drive home.
The fine staff informed us that they have live music on the weekends, and a dance club downstairs that the patrons gain admittance to. Yeah – I’ll be back, but there is no way I’ll be able to move around to the Latin beat after another meal like that with out making a mess.