Fogo de Chao (Downtown, 01/09/09) - No Mas!!!

I'm done. No more. I've really had enough of this place. Chances are that some wide-eyed summer associates, dying to kick off the shackles of the Ramen-noodle diet in their new-found life as an adult, will drag me back to Fogo de Chao at some point in the future. Or I will cave to peer pressure when a meat-crazed friend convinces a group to head downtown to this meatatorium. But when I'm deciding, when it's on my dime, I will never choose to go back.

Look, the idea is enticing. No menus, no waiting - just a floor full of waiters dressed in "authentic" Argentinian garb, carrying around all varieties of slow-roasted animals on spits. You have a little card on your table that, when turned to its green side, invites these merchants of meat to come and keep coming, carving off a slice of this or a chunk of that. When flipped to red, the card is supposed to turn off the protein spigot - though it seems that is a formailty rarely obeyed. I admit to having been tempted by this Siren on a few occasions before. "Filet mignon wrapped in thick-cut bacon? Yes please. And come back in about 2 minutes, 'cause I'm-a want summore."

But this past Friday night was really the last time. It is not because the service was pretty spotty. The meat guys were all over us, but ordering a drink proved a veritable oddessy. It's not that the place was loaded with tourists. I'm up for sharing great food spots with those who come visiting this fair city, even when their clothes have been "bedazzeled." It's not even that dinner for 6 with 6 drinks and 1 bottle of wine cost (gasp) $550. No dessert, mind you. I'll glady drop that cash at Mini-bar or Capital Grille when the (very rare) occasion calls for it. It's because, in the end, a restaurant must be judged on its food and the value thereof. And Fogo's food just isn't very good.

It took me a little while to come to this conclusion. I've been going to Fogo about twice a year for the last 3 or 4 years (Budda, you'll have to remind me when that first time was). But I should have been tipped off by the fact that it has a salad bar. I don't care how big the palm hearts are (in fact, who can eat an entire freakin' palm heart), it's a salad bar. Sizzler had a salad bar. In the end, you get back to your table with your big pile of nonsense and you realize, this is just boiled asparagus. No care was taken to ensure each individual spear hits the tastebuds correctly - they're about quantity. That huge wheel of parmesean looks really cool sitting there at the end for you to carve your own slice, but when I'm paying $50 a head, I want someone to carve my damn cheese for me.

But the main problem with Fogo rests squarely on that which is the most enticing to begin with - the meat. It's fine. It doesn't taste bad. It's generally hot, pretty juicy, and there's a lot of it. But come on! I can walk 6 blocks down Pennsylvania Avenue to the Capital Grille, order the Kona-crusted aged sirloin, and actually feel good about the fact that I've probably taken about 2 days off my life. And that piece of meat will leave me a pound heavier in the gut, but only fourty dollars lighter in the wallet. I leave Fogo seriously considering pulling out my teeth so I have no way to chew anything ever again. I don't care that, in the space of 30 seconds at Fogo, you'll be offerred top sirloin, bottom sirloin, tenderloin leg of lamb, rack of lamb, chicken and filet wrapped in bacon, sausages, pork, veal, what-freaking-ever. Quality surpasses quantity very quickly when performing a cost/benefit analysis. I can eat $100 worth of the best beef on the planet (wagu comes to mind) and be a happy little carnivore, but I can't (and don't want) to eat $50 worth of ok meat. And Fogo's meat is just ok. Even the bacon-wrapped filet looses its appeal once you get over the utter briliance of the conept.

The bottom line is that Fogo is the worst kind of tourist trap. It looks fancy, offers something foreign (meat on a stick) but still safely domestic (meat) and gives you more than any one person should ever eat. But, when you're sitting there with your pants unbuttoned under your shirt, reaching for a Zantac and a packet of metamucil, Fogo is just mass-produced, thoughtless food showing no personality, no skill and no restraint. And for that, you have to leave a good bit of coin on the table. So I, for one, am never going back....unless you wanna go....ok, fine, I'll go. Can I recommend the bacon-wrapped filet mignon? You can eat as much of it as you want!!!