All language subtitles for Anthony Bourdain Parts Unknown S08E08 Minas Gerais Brazil 1

>> Anthony: Man, that's good.

Man, that is good.

Yeah, it's good.

Mm.

Ah, man, it's really good.

It's really good, by the way.

This is good, so good.

That's amazing.

It's fantastic.

Oh, man, there we go.

Life is good.

* I took a walk through this

beautiful world *

* Felt the cool rain on my

shoulder *

* Found something good in this

beautiful world *

* I felt the rain getting

colder *

* Sha, la, la, la, la,

Sha, la, la, la, la, la, *

* Sha, la, la, la, la,

Sha, la, la, la, la, la, la *

[ whistle blows ]

*

>> Anthony: Chances are you have

never been here.

In fact, it is likely that you

may never have even heard of

this place.

Tourists don't really come here.

There are few hotels, no major

attractions.

[ Man speaking Portuguese ]

>> Anthony: The state of

Minas Gerais, Brazil.

It's about the size of France,

covered by farmland, mountains,

and savannah.

Belo Horizonte is the capital, a

center for the Brazilian banking

and tech industry.

A planned city.

Built in the late 1800s.

Five million people live in the

metropolitan area.

It's one of the fastest growing

cities in Brazil, in the world

in fact, yet it's still

relatively unknown in the

outside world.

But if you travel through Brazil

and you talk about food, which I

have and I do, you hear about

this place.

You hear about it seemingly a

lot.

I've been told time and again,

this is where the best chefs

come from.

The question is, why don't you

hear that outside of Brazil?

Why hasn't the cuisine of Minas

caught on worldwide?

>> Leonardo Paixao: The pots

here are made up of chalkstone.

Uh my -- my grandmother still

cooks in them.

>> Anthony: Oh yeah, oh yeah.

>> Leonardo Paixao: If you go to

her place, you got a lot of

those.

>> Anthony: Chef Leo Paixao is

also asking that question.

Born and raised here, he grew up

cooking traditional Mineira

cuisine and went on to study in

France under the likes of

Joel Robuchon.

Now he's back with his own

place -- Glouton.

>> Leonardo Paixao: So we are up

at the Central Market at Bello

Horizonte.

Mineas Gerais is a central state

and we share with every other

state around.

It's very democratic up here.

Uh, the people come here -- they

can have a haircut, they can buy

like living chicken or good

cheese from France.

>> Anthony: If Mineas is the

heart of Brazilian cooking, then

the Mercado Central is the heart

of Mineas.

It's the place where everybody

shops, including chefs like Leo,

who are focused on giving

Mineiras products the attention

they deserve.

This is a country where there is

a lot of fruit that I've never

seen outside of Brazil.

>> Leonardo Paixao: Yeah.

>> Anthony: A lot of it is super

perishable too.

Like even if you wanted to

export it, it just doesn't

really last.

>> Leonardo Paixao: We're

getting to pequi season now.

>> Anthony: Oh, yeah.

>> Leonardo Paixao: And people

get, like, overwhelmed by the

just like they eat it like --

>> Anthony: Every day.

>> Leonardo Paixao: Every day.

>> Anthony: The infamous pequi,

loved and hated in equal

measure.

It's described by both camps as

tasting sweaty or like a

barnyard.

And if you bite too deep, you

get a mouthful of hundreds of

nano-spikes requiring

professional extraction.

And if you dig into the pit, big

problem.

>> Leonardo Paixao: Big problem.

>> Anthony: It's just this thin

layer on the outside.

>> Leonardo Paixao: Thin layer.

And it's so, so strong.

>> Leonardo Paixao: Our

vegetables -- she's my supplier.

So this is taioba, this big

tropical leaf here.

>> Anthony: This is the kind of

fundamental Mineria ingredient

you didn't find in restaurants

here until recently.

>> Leonardo Paixao: And it's

like it is part of like the

forgotten vegetables.

They used to weed it out of the

yard because it grew all around.

>> Anthony: How do you cook it?

>> Leonardo Paixao: Just boil it

like for 15 seconds with water

and a little butter.

It's meaty, it's got a meat-like

chew on it, resist a bit and

then it breaks down like meat.

[ Man speaking Portuguese ]

>> Leonardo Paixao: I went to

France to study culinary arts,

and I graduated in medicine and

I just loved so much the work.

And then I came back and I

thought, yeah, I'm gonna, like,

cook French food here.

I started Glouton to be a French

restaurant, but it's impossible

to have good French products

here in Brazil.

So I started to use the products

from the region.

The flavor of Mineria cuisine is

so intense, and then we are

raised eating that.

>> Anthony: Right.

>> Leonardo Paixao: That's such

a new gastronomy.

I started to cook pork neck,

oxtail, and I fell in love with

those products, because if I

don't cook it, who's going to

cook it?

>> Anthony: You have good

products, right?

>> Leonardo Paixao: Yeah.

>> Anthony: So why not use them?

>> Leonardo Paixao: Yeah.

>> Anthony: Bar da Lora is named

after its owner, also known as

the blonde, who is the first

woman to run a bar in the

Mercado Central.

It's a place to order a cold

beer, wedge yourself

shoulder-to-shoulder into a

small table, and order this.

You want this by the way.

This place is famous for --

>> Leonardo Paixao: This place

is famous for liver with jiló.

Jiló is very important to us.

It's like an eggplant, but it's

green and you need to eat it

while it's still green, because

if it ripens, it gets so bitter

you can't eat it.

>> Anthony: All the food here is

like if you -- if you bite too

far into the pit, it stabs you.

If you -- if you eat it at the

wrong time it poisons you.

>> Leonardo Paixao: Uh,

dangerous stuff, huh?

>> Anthony: Lyon has

Paul Bocuse.

Mineas has Chef Ivo Faria, owner

of Vecchio Sogno.

He's the godfather of Mineria

cuisine and ingredients.

[ Ivo Faria da Costa

speaking Portuguese ]

>> Leonardo Paixao: Only that

the foreigner cuisine was good,

uh, was considered good here.

[ Ivo Faria da Costa

speaking Portuguese ]

>> Leonardo Paixao: So he start

in kitchen, he didn't want to be

cook, he wanted to be a waiter.

[ Ivo Faria da Costa

speaking Portuguese ]

>> Leonardo Paixao: So he was

chosen to go to the kitchen.

>> Anthony: What year -- how

long ago did the customers start

to want Minera food?

[ Ivo Faria da Costa

speaking Portuguese ]

>> Leonardo Paixao: In Mineira

cuisine, all ways your

grandmother cooks better than

your chef.

When they eat it, you're so

emotional about it, they fell in

love with it and they except it

very well.

>> Anthony: Cheers, by the way.

>> Leonardo Paixao: Cheers.

>> Ivo Faria da Costa: Cheers.

[ Ivo Faria da Costa

speaking Portuguese ]

>> Anthony: Mineas is a central

state, land-locked.

You want to hit the beach?

That's a seven-hour bus ride to

Rio.

That, or you come here --

Beach Station.

No beach?

Hire a water truck.

Economy in the shitter?

Turn up the music and dance.

It's known here as the "little

slippery way."

You adapt, you survive, no

matter what, you have a good

time and you don't go at it

alone.

It's a philosophy that carries

over to the botecos.

They're basically neighborhood

joints found all over Brazil

serving beers, cachaca, and a

few homemade dishes.

Places like this one -- Bar do

Careca.

What are the requirements that

define a boteco?

>> Eduardo Maya: It's a place

where the family is.

Behind the counter full-time.

>> Anthony: Mom and pop.

>> Eduardo Maya: Mom and papa,

yeah.

>> Anthony: Eduardo Maya is a

self-taught gastronome and

paterfamilias of the boteco

scene here.

Luiz Otavio, a beverage tycoon

who specializes in the legendary

cachaca, of Minas Gerais.

>> Eduardo Maya: If the boteco

is good, people come all over

town.

It's like a home outside our

home.

>> Luiz Otavio: It's a group

therapy.

>> Anthony: What do you talk

about?

>> Eduardo Maya: We talk about

everything but business.

>> Anthony: Sports?

>> Luiz Otavio: Jokes.

>> Eduardo Maya: Sports.

>> Luiz Otavio: Women.

>> Eduardo Maya: Food.

>> Luiz Otavio: Food.

>> Anthony: Eduardo had previous

incarnations as a banker and

then as an entrepreneur.

But he threw it all out in

2000 to start the Comida do

Buteco, an annual competition

for botecos.

It's a big deal here and it

raised botecos from

male-dominated, dirty glass

joints to the centerpiece of the

Minera social scene.

So what's on the menu?

>> Eduardo Maya: Boteco in Minas

is a bit like the Italians.

We eat a lot of pork here.

An important thing about the

boteco in Minas is that they

serve real food -- food from

Minas Gerais.

>> Anthony: So what are we

having tonight?

>> Eduardo Maya: I think we are

having tongue, of course.

Ox tongue.

>> Anthony: Right, uh, I'm

intrigued what --

>> Eduardo Maya: Would you like

some tripe as well?

>> Anthony: I think a little

tripe as well.

>> Eduardo Maya: Would you like

some hand of the pig?

>> Anthony: Yes, yes, yes.

>> Eduardo Maya: So now you are

gonna -- you are going to go

deep, deep inside Minas.

>> Anthony: I'm happy.

Yes.

>> Eduardo Maya: Lovely.

Okay.

[ shouts in Portuguese ]

>> Anthony: Ox tongue cooked

with basil, mint, and pepper.

Perhaps the most famous dish in

Minas.

Beans, mantioc flower smoked in

cured meats.

And if you're lucky, fresh eggs.

Oh, there we go.

>> Eduardo Maya: Oh there we go,

very nice.

That's the tongue -- ox tongue.

>> Anthony: Yup.

>> Eduardo Maya: That's the

foot.

The pig's foot.

>> Anthony: Right.

>> Eduardo Maya: May I?

>> Anthony: Oh, yes, please.

>> Luiz Otavio: The food from

Mineas Gerais has nothing to do

with our climate.

>> Anthony: Yeah, you're right.

This is cold-weather food.

>> Luiz Otavio: Yes.

This meal is nice.

>> Anthony: Yeah, right?

>> Eduardo Maya: It's a very

comfort food, isn't it?

He prepares the tongue every

day.

>> Anthony: You have a great

culinary tradition here of

flavors.

You have fantastic ingredients,

but in upper-class

Bello Horizonte, people are

insecure about their food until

recently.

Where did this come from?

>> Luiz Otavio: It's a plague --

Italian and French food.

>> Eduardo Maya: I used to say

it's a complex.

>> Anthony: Right.

>> Eduardo Maya: Like a trauma

we've been in from who colonized

us, so they posed it and we have

excellent products.

Good products in France, they

make good food in France with

their products.

But here, let's make the same

technique but with our products.

We have started saying, "Listen,

this is good.

Put in your restaurant.

Pequi is good."

They were ashamed with pequi.

>> Anthony: This attachment to

the idea that French food and

Italian food will always be more

valuable than your own thing.

It's -- it's, uh, ridiculous

concept.

>> Eduardo Maya: We Menieros, we

don't talk much.

We don't go on the top of our

mountain and start to just

spread the word that we have

good food.

We are very quiet people.

You have to discover us, but we

have the best.

>> Anthony: The story of Minera

cuisine, you could argue, starts

with a gold rush.

The world's first, in fact.

In the late 1600s, alluvial gold

was found in the mountainous

rivers of Minas.

Over the next hundred-plus

years, while Portuguese Masters

fanned themselves on the

riverbanks, African slaves

sifted billions in gold from the

mud and earth.

By the end of the 19th century,

the deposits were exhausted and

about half a million Africans

had been forced to make this

country their home.

Now Brazil has the largest

African diaspora in the world.

And though Brazil remains a

country of rampant inequity

deeply divided along racial

lines, African culture saturates

all corners of the society.

This is especially true of the

food.

Looks good.

Superb.

[ Zora Santos speaking

Portuguese ]

>> Anthony: Zora Santos is a

practitioner of old-school

Afro-Mineras cuisine.

She traveled Europe as one of

the first black Brazilian models

in the '70s, but returned home

to look inward, becoming an

ambassador for independent black

women in the kitchen and running

her own catering business.

Joining us at the table are

Zora's daughter, Catarina, and

friends Uli and Cida.

>> Anthony: Well, how African is

Brazilian cuisine in general?

>> Zora Santos: Uh, 99%.

>> Anthony: What do you think

white Brazilians -- would they

say the same thing?

[ Zora Santos speaking

Portuguese ]

[ Cida speaking Portuguese ]

>> Anthony: Zora prides herself

for preparing food in the

tradition of the enslaved

African women who were, in her

view, the matriarchs of the

Minera cuisine.

She cooks with a serious focus

on vegetables and greens,

ingredients from the yard,

basically what her predecessors

had to work with, and applies

West African technique.

This is angu -- a dish simply

made of cornmeal and water or

milk, cooked for hours.

There's ora-pro-nóbis, a native

green very rich in protein.

It was known as the "poor

people's meat" and its use dates

back to colonial times when

African cooks had to make do

with very limited resources.

Pork has always been common to

this area where people raised

and still raise their own pigs

to butcher.

Ribs are on the menu today, and

I am not complaining.

But, look, everything that

Brazilians claim to love is

African, right?

The music, the food, all of the

classic dishes.

Do you feel, given how central

everything African is to Brazil

and Brazilian identity, do you

feel that Afro-Brazilians have

political representation?

>> Zora Santos: No.

No.

>> Anthony: No.

No.

It's like nobody -- let me

think.

Uh, no.

[ Zora Santos speaking

Portuguese ]

>> Anthony: Why?

Why?

Why?

[ Zora Santos speaking

Portuguese ]

>> Anthony: Everything in Africa

is so fundamental to everything

that makes Brazil awesome.

I mean, I could say the same

thing about the United States,

but --

[ Zora Santos speaking

Portuguese ]

[ Cida speaking Portuguese ]

>> Anthony: Ooh.

>> Uli: The Catholic and

Protestants, they have similar

ideology that the black people,

right, should --

>> Anthony: Be satisfied now

because it will pay off later.

We'll get you next time.

>> Uli: Because, yeah.

Exactly.

[ Band singing ]

*

>> Anthony: But you had huge

success as a model.

How -- how did this --

[ Zora Santos speaking

Portuguese ]

>> Cida: She said it does not

fit.

[ Zora Santos speaking

Portuguese ]

>> Anthony: Refresh my memory.

[ Zora Santos speaking

Portuguese ]

>> Anthony: But you don't -- you

don't think it meant anything?

Did it not in any way redefine

what is beautiful?

[ Zora Santos speaking

Portuguese ]

[ Band singing ]

*

[ birds chirping ]

>> Anthony: About 60 kilometers

outside of Bello Horizonte,

you're in the jungle.

Deep, thick, loud, jungle, and

buried within that hostile

environment you'll find one of

the most curious and

extraordinary places in all of

Brazil.

Inhotim.

A massive Jurassic park for

contemporary art stuck smack-dab

in the middle of seemingly

nowhere.

A place that will make you say,

"What the hell is this doing

here?"

>> Beatriz: This museum has put

Minas Gerais in the world art

map.

Everybody that is in

contemporary art today knows

this place or have heard about

this place.

>> Anthony: Wow.

>> Beatriz: Wow.

>> Anthony: Beatriz Lemos De Sa

is an art dealer who represents

Brazilian artists based in Belo.

>> Beatriz: This is Tunga

Pavilion.

Tunga is one of the major

contemporary artists in Brazil.

He started his work in the '70s,

and he has also this

revolutionary side.

He likes the transgression, so

that's why he uses all kinds of

materials -- things can be very

strange for you as you see them.

>> Anthony: So Tunga would be

very comfortable in this venue.

>> Beatriz: Completely.

He is the one who inspired

Bernardo to build this place as

a museum.

>> Anthony: Bernardo would be

Bernardo Paz, mining magnate,

billionaire, and the eccentric

visionary who created this,

well, place for lack of a better

word.

In the 1980s, he started buying

up the lands surrounding his

house to keep developers from

destroying the landscape.

Then he opened his doors to

contemporary artists, offering

them both the financial resource

to make art and this

otherworldly home for their

work.

In the early days, this used to

be the family farm, ranch.

And he started collection

himself.

>> Beatriz: Yes.

Yes.

He started collecting modern

art.

And then eventually he started

changing for contemporary art

because he thought this was the

moment.

*

>> Beatriz: You have to be very

brave and courageous and have to

be a visionary to do what he --

he did.

In my opinion, he is a madman

because nobody does something so

big, so great.

>> Anthony: You clearly set out

to do something truly

extraordinary.

Enormous, uh, mind-boggling

scale.

Did this grow organically or was

there a plan?

>> Bernardo: No, no, no.

Never had a plan.

I'm a guy who had a dream, and I

want to do the dream, and I do.

But I do it with risk, with risk

because I do it for the people,

not for the money.

>> Anthony: This place is

massive, consisting of two dozen

larger-than-life pavilions set

on a 5,000-acre botanical

garden.

It holds over 500 works from

contemporary artists.

Setting aside the cost of

building this sprawling utopian

vision and financing the art, it

cost more than $10 million

annually to keep the place

running.

And only a small portion of that

is covered by tickets purchased

by visitors.

>> Anthony: You could create a

gallery space anywhere in the

world, and those would be more

accessible and more people would

come.

You chose here, relatively

isolated.

Do you let -- uh, do you like

people?

>> Bernardo: Yes.

I like people, but I like more

to see the people happy.

And to see them come to me, I

construct here a state of mind.

>> Anthony: Is it important at

all that the people who come

here understand art?

Does it matter that someone

comes and looks at

Matthew Barney or Chris Burden?

>> Bernardo: They understand.

>> Anthony: They understand.

Do you think rich, poor, farmer?

>> Bernardo: No, no way.

Children.

Go ask children.

They understand.

I want to ask it you one

question.

When you was children, how was

first drawing you did in your

life?

You did a mountain, a sun, a

small house, a hill?

>> Anthony: Yes.

A hill with a house and a sun,

probably.

>> Bernardo: Yes.

Yes.

This is inside you.

Why did you do this drawing?

>> Anthony: Well, I think we

all -- at the end, we all want

to live on a mountain in a house

with a sun.

Don't we?

>> Bernardo: In the end?

No.

In the beginning.

>> Anthony: So in 50 years, what

do you want people to say about

you?

>> Bernardo: Nothing.

>> Anthony: You don't care?

>> Bernardo: I don't care.

I lived.

I died.

I am my life is risk and

continue to be risk and will

continue.

>> Anthony: But after, do -- I

mean, do you care?

Do you care about your legacy?

You've created this enormous --

>> Bernardo: I don't believe in

being important.

>> Anthony: You don't believe in

it.

I don't either.

I mean, I don't believe in it at

all.

>> Bernardo: I live.

I live.

You have to know why you came to

be like you are.

[ jungle sounds ]

*

>> Anthony: The mountain farm

where Mineran cuisine was born

and raised.

You grow up on a farm like this

and you grow up eating food that

would be called, in more urban

settings, artisanal.

You raise your own animals, you

slaughter, clean, butcher, and

cook them yourself.

Greens, chickens, pigs, fruit --

everything is at hand.

The food of the yard.

And eventually it all ends up

here at the wood stove, the

center of the Minera kitchen.

And when you put the food on the

table, you make sure that there

is enough for everybody --

family, friends, and the stray

lucky bastard who might wonder

up to the table at the right

time.

How is Mineas different than the

rest of Brazil?

>> Galastro: I think because we

were a land-made by people that

came here for gold, you know?

The workers, they had to help

each other.

So we are really a farm state,

you know?

And this kind of change of

helping each other made them --

the Minera people.

>> Anthony: I think the biggest

difference is, you know, it's a

joke.

I'm sure you said it a million

times, you know, in Rio somebody

invites you to dinner, they

don't tell you where they live.

>> Group: Yeah.

[ laughs ]

>> Anthony: Here they seem to

mean it.

>> Galastro: Here we are just

people who like to receive

people, to invite people to our

houses.

We are people that we grew up

cooking.

>> Anthony: These guys grew up

here in farm country.

Now they're at the center of

Belo's culinary scene.

Felipe Hame, owner of Alma Chef,

and champion of Minera cuisine.

And his friends and fellow

chefs, Felipe Galastro, Fred and

Boy.

They come back here to

Galastro's family farm.

They come back often to cook and

eat and, of course, drink.

>> Felipe: For me, one important

thing from here that we make

food to share.

I can't remember a dish that you

make for --

>> Galastro: -- one person, just

for yourself.

Just for yourself or for you,

everybody's' got to eat.

You know, everyone's got to eat.

Everyone is welcome.

>> Anthony: Smoked pig's head

with vegetables and chilies.

Native green beans called andu

prepared with bacon and farofa.

Everybody here is a professional

cook, chef?

>> Group: Yeah.

>> Anthony: Everybody.

>> Felipe: Yeah, we all came to

Europe to learn, to be a cook.

And then we came back to read

over new ingredients to -- yeah.

>> Galastro: -- ride back home.

>> Anthony: Thai food is huge in

the states, all over the world.

Italian food is huge all over

the world.

French.

But why do you think Brazilian

food -- real Brazilian food,

does not have a higher profile

internationally?

>> Boy: It's a hard question

because most chefs and other

people who work with food will

think this everyday.

>> Galastro: We just have to

figure out how to get

ingredients there.

>> Group: Yeah.

[ laughs ]

>> Anthony: Yeah.

This is a problem.

Because a lot of the really

amazing Brazilian products just

don't travel.

You can't.

>> Galastro: You have a health

department system that controls

with an iron hand, you know?

>> Anthony: I can tell that.

I mean, it's tough.

>> Galastro: We've got a lot of

problems here in Minas with our

cheese, 'cause it's made of raw

milk.

I've never seen or heard anyone

that even got sick by eating our

cheese.

By our blood sausage.

We grew up eating that.

>> Felipe: Should we bring the

milk?

>> Anthony: Yeah, sure.

Yeah.

>> Anthony: And the piece de

resistance, frango ao molho

pardo.

Chicken in brown sauce, baked in

a clay pot finished with the

blood of chickens fresh killed

this morning.

>> Anthony: Whoa.

Yeah.

That's awesome.

Phew, all right.

Served with piqui rice, farofa,

and of course, cachaça.

Cheers.

>> Group: Cheers.

>> Galastro: Brazil people

say --

>> Anthony: Which means "eat

food of the --"?

>> Galastro: Eat on your knees.

>> Anthony: Eat on your knees?

>> Galastro: Yeah.

Just like saying prayers for the

food.

Thanking the food.

>> Anthony: What's the hardest

part for the customers?

What's the hardest thing to

convince your customers?

>> Felipe: Here?

They -- they don't like to pay.

>> Galastro: Yeah.

>> Anthony: They don't want to

pay?

>> Galastro: They don't want to

pay.

They don't want to pay for a --

>> Felipe: They want to have

world-class service, world-class

food.

>> Boy: They don't like to spend

that much money here.

They spend a lot of money in Rio

and San Paulo.

>> Anthony: Give it a French

name and they'll -- pay.

[ Group laughs ]

>> Galastro: Exactly.

Exactly.

>> Anthony: This is

Bruna Martins.

She owns a restaurant, Birosca,

where she cooks the food of her

childhood, the food she learned

from her grandmother and her

nanny.

>> Leonardo Paixao: So when you

are a kid here, your family

obligates you to eat jiló.

>> Anthony: Why?

>> Marise Rache: Because I

think -- I think it was to teach

children to eat different

flavors, different sensations.

>> Anthony: Leo is a friend of

Bruna's and of Marise and

Denise Rache -- owners of

D'Artagnan, one of the first

ambitious fine-dining

restaurants in Belo to be owned

and operated by women.

Was it particularly hard as

women starting in the business

20 years ago?

>> Marise Rache: When we began,

there wasn't a lot of women

chefs.

And we decided to open a

restaurant because we like to

cook together.

>> Denise Rache: I think nobody

trusted us.

We have many friends and they

have restaurants, they are

chefs, and they said "Okay, it's

a hobby.

Okay, let them play a little

bit.

This won't last."

And here we are.

>> Anthony: I mean, in the -- in

the States and Europe, it was

women cooked at home.

In restaurants, however, this

was man's work.

>> Denise Rache: Obviously they

would -- the ones that cooked

there were men.

But they learned all --

everything they learned was from

their mothers.

>> Leonardo Paixao: The

techniques and everything passed

through the generations of

women, so that -- that's what

it's all about here I think with

Bruna.

>> Anthony: Bruna makes a point

of hiring women, and only women,

to work in her restaurants,

particularly black women who she

feels are the central if largely

unacknowledged figures in Minera

culinary culture for hundreds of

years.

Hello.

Hi.

Easy to find women cooks or

hard?

[ Bruna speaking Portuguese ]

>> Anthony: Now wait a minute.

Is this based on the quality of

the dishes or is this a

philosophical decision to just

hire other women?

[ Bruna speaking Portuguese ]

>> Anthony: Turkey neck braised

with butter and garlic, served

in white beans topped with kale

and pork belly.

>> Marise Rache: I think this is

neck.

>> Leonardo Paixao: Yes, turkey

neck.

>> Marise Rache: Turkey neck.

>> Anthony: Turkey neck.

Cool.

>> Marise Rache: With her

grandmother's knife.

[ laughs ]

>> Anthony: Ah, with what's left

of it.

What -- it used to be like this?

*

>> Anthony: In Brazil, like so

many places we go, everything is

just fine until it's not.

[ Bystander speaking

Portuguese ]

>> Denise Rache: I've never been

in such a situation.

I'm sorry.

>> Marise Rache: But the guy was

drunk.

>> Anthony: Well, he stole the

car I guess.

>> Marise Rache: Yes.

Yes.

>> Anthony: My director and

camera guy by the way,

immediately tackled me to the

floor and shielded me from the

direction of the gun with their

bodies.

To which I say, "Thanks, guys,

but dudes, your wives are going

to be pissed."

You know, you're not the secret

service.

You're young, you have your

whole life ahead of you.

>> Mo: It just came out.

>> Marise Rache: He had to

protect you.

*

>> Anthony: But just like that,

it's back to the food and the

conversation.

Keep your glass full and your

friends around you and we'll

make it through.

Oh, wow.

>> Marise Rache: Ah, this one is

amazing.

>> Anthony: Beautiful.

Cupim, ox hump pot roast.

Served with mashed potatoes and

farofa.

So, why did you do something as

difficult as opening a

restaurant?

[ Bruna speaking Portuguese ]

>> Anthony: Cooking is about joy

and comfort.

Cooking in a restaurant is about

business.

So, is it still a joy?

[ Bruna speaking Portuguese ]

*

*

>> Anthony: At the end of a long

night, decisions good and bad,

friends old and new, a night

spent playing or a night spent

working, all across the world

wherever cooks stumble out of

work late, there's a place like

this -- Nono.

One of the few places that's

open all night, serving the kind

of thing that enlighten

night-dwellers everywhere want

and need, like Mocoto.

Gentleman.

>> Leonardo Paixao: Hey, Tony.

Nice to see you again.

>> Anthony: It's the city that

never sleeps -- 24-hour mocoto,

right?

>> Leonardo Paixao: This place

is very democratic because,

like, everybody comes.

Late at night, taxi drivers,

hookers, and cooks because --

>> Anthony: Yeah, why is it that

like hookers and cooks are

always welcomed at the same

place, you know?

It's like the same social

standing.

I'm ready, man, I am hungry.

I've had nothing to eat all day.

>> Leonardo Paixao: Yeah?

>> Anthony: I am starving.

>> Anthony: Mocoto is the

ultimate in broke-ass, dunk-ass,

peasant food.

Slow-cooked cows foot and/or

other bits, tender and tasty

and, believe me, one of my

favorites, especially at this

hour.

We opt for the elite version

with a raw quail egg because,

well, need I remind you my

confirmed record of egg

sluttery?

>> Leonardo Paixao: Good stuff.

>> Anthony: Wow.

Nice.

This is like the greatest thing

ever.

>> Leonardo Paixao: So they tell

that they serve 170 kilos of cow

foot everyday.

>> Anthony: So that's about

350 pounds of, yeah, cow foot.

And all that good stuff it ended

up in here, man.

Gelatin, man.

>> Chef: The importations its --

its big.

Have a beer.

It's never too busy.

But it goes on 24 hours.

>> Anthony: It's sort of a

stout.

>> Leonardo Paixao: It's a cow

breed caracu.

And if you split the words, it

means "ass face."

Seriously.

>> Anthony: Ass face?

>> Leonardo Paixao: It's

actually exactly the words.

>> Anthony: So how was the --

how was your dinner tonight?

Were you -- were you busy?

>> Leonardo Paixao: You know

what happened tonight?

It came like three clients.

A lady with her husband and her

chef.

And she said, "Oh, this is my

chef.

He is going to eat and me and my

husband are not because we're

eating special food for detox.

We're full of restrictions and

we brought -- we brought our

soup, so if you can please heat

my soup for me because

detoxing."

>> Anthony: Detoxing from what?

What are you, a heroin addict?

I mean, go home and do some more

heroin.

Thank you, guys.

>> Group: Thank you, Tony.

>> Anthony: To Minas.

There's always somewhere that

cooks come from.

Usually it's the ass-end of a

country.

Here it's different.

It's not just where the cooks

are, but food and ingredients

and some pretty amazing visual

inspiration.