Last night, I went out to Brasa, which replaced Betty’s Bikes and Buns at the corner of Central and Hennepin.
It’s clearly supposed to be an upscale sort of place, as upscale as rotisserie chicken and paper cups can get. They make a point of telling you that the meat is local and organic. The bar inside, where they have a wine and beer selection, is shiny metal against a faintly southwest decor. When I say ‘faintly’ it means I really couldn’t tell. I got the impression that was what they were going for. To be honest, there is a certain ‘corn chips and sour cream’ kind of color that makes me think ‘bad attempt at southwest decor.’
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The food is good. I couldn’t try the pork, but gather that it is what really brings the people in. On the menu it lists the chicken as available all night. The pork is only served ‘until we’re out.’ Having said that, the chicken was good last night, and the piece that I had left over today passed the cold chicken taste test. It was flavorful and tender. Last night it was melt in your mouth moist. They have a variety of sides, you get two with your order. I had yuca and chick peas with barley. Both were tasty, if unspectacular.
All of which sounds pretty good, right? Well… I don’t know that it was $14 good. That’s probably my inherent prejudice against rotisserie chicken, but it’s comfort food. I always want comfort food to be pretty cheap, so that it can comfort me often. When you add in the $5 beer, I was suddenly feeling lite of pocket.
I also have a no molestation policy at restaurants, and the waitress made it a point of touching me every time she came to our table. At one point she fingered my earlobe. For some reason 5% of all middle aged waitresses seem to think that part of their charm is feeling up the customers. Icky.
In the end, I felt like Brasa did for me what Big E’s did a few years ago. It made good home cooking seem so good and cozy, that I want to learn to make the dishes at home, instead of eating out.