Brazilian Beef Empadinhas

It's summertime, which means that it's time once again to indulge in Brazilian meat. Oh, get your mind out of the gutter, honey (or is that my mind...?); I'm talking about my friend Phillip's annual churrasco!

You may remember that last year, I strayed from the theme and made cupcakes for the occasion. Well, Phillip decided to put a nix on that this year and instead asked me to bring Brazilian empadinhas.

Empadinhas are similar to empanadas, except that the Brazilian version is akin to a meat pie as opposed to a half-moon turnover. According to Wikipedia, larger, entrée-sized versions are called empadas, whereas the appetizer-sized ones are called empadinhas. Since Phillip had the main course covered, I was tackling the latter.

I had never experienced the real thing and wasn't quite sure what I was going for, so I really wanted to start with a base recipe. I was surprised to find that nearly every recipe for meat empadinhas published online was in Portugese; just when I was trying to wrap my brain around how to convert deciliters to something I actually had the ability to measure, a Google scholar friend finally pointed me to this one from Blazing Hot Wok (thanks, P!).

I enlisted Chris' help, and we made a double-batch of the crust following Blazing Hot Wok's recipe exactly, except that our food processor was too small to handle it and we ended up mixing it by hand. For the filling, I had my heart set on beef, so I substituted ground beef, nixed the olives, and used beef broth rather than chicken. I went with the hearts of palm rather than the artichokes in the recipe, as I thought they would let the beefy flavor shine through a bit more.

All in all, I was very happy with the results, but since we didn't have official empadinha molds, we used mini muffin tins, which aren't really very well-suited for this process - mostly because they're so damn small. It was a *$#(@ putting the tops on the little pies and we ended up cutting the dough with biscuit cutters, then rolling each little circle out further by hand, which meant that both the dough and us were a little overworked. It took three hours for the two of us to make four dozen of these babies.

Were I to make these again, I'd make entrée-sized versions (which would be a cinch) or I'd thumb my nose at Brazilian tradition and make turnover-shaped ones. Tradition aside, I think they would be just as delicious.

The recipe, as adapted from Blazing Hot Wok:

Brazilian Beef Empadinhas

For the crust:
2 cups all-purpose flour
5 1/2 oz cold butter, cut into pieces
2 eggs, divided (1 whole egg + 1 yolk for crust and white for egg wash)
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
cold water, as needed

For the filling:
16 oz ground beef
3 garlic cloves, minced
1/3 cup finely chopped hearts of palm (fresh or in water, not marinated)
1/2 onion, finely chopped
2 T all-purpose flour
2 T tomato paste
about 1/2 cup to 1 cup beef broth
salt, to taste

Blazing Hot Wok suggests making this crust with a food processor. However, ours was too small, so we did it using a couple of butter knives.

Combine the dry ingredients with the butter and pulse until the butter is cut into the flour. Add one whole egg and the yolk of the other and pulse until they are incorporated. Pulse while adding enough cold water to just bring the dough together. Transfer to a clean surface and bring the dough together into a clump. If it's too sticky add a little more flour. If it's too dry, add a little more liquid, but do not knead it. Wrap the clump in plastic wrap and chill it in the fridge while you make the filling.

In a skillet, sautee the garlic and onions in olive oil until soft. Add the raw ground beef and sautee until it is cooked through. Add the hearts of palm and tomato paste. Mix well. Sprinkle the flour on top and stir to incorporate it. Add the broth slowly in increments. Mix well after each addition. Use just enough liquid to get a pasty filling. Heat through and season with salt.

To assemble the pies, roll out the dough to fit into the mini-pie pans so there is a little overhang. Since we were making mini-pies and I didn't want the crust to be too thick, we rolled ours out, cut it with 4" diameter biscuit cutters, then rolled each round out again a little further.

Filling the crusts. It is a LOT easier to put the tops on if the is a fair amount of excess dough on the bottom.

You'll also need a top (again, we used biscuit cutters for these, and just didn't roll them out as much afterwards). If necessary, sprinkle a little flour on the dough as needed to keep it from sticking. Use enough of the meat mixture to fill a little over the level of the mold. Place the top on and pinch the top and bottom crusts together. To keep the pies from popping open, roll the seam inward. Brush lightly with egg white and bake in 375F oven until golden, about 25 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature.


Army o' meat pies


Uno


Yummy, meaty goodness!

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Brazilians Eat Cupcakes...Right?

Yesterday, I attended a really fantastic Brazilian churrasco hosted by my friend Phillip. Phillip's annual meat-shindig is a must-attend; nowhere else are you ever going to find a better piece of beef.

Phillip doling out a portion of the 20 lbs of meat he purchased for the event.

One of the reasons the meat at Phillip's churrascos is so good is that he always uses a lot of picanha, which is a cut of meat not often found in the United States. Phillip procures his beefy goodness at Ana Brasil, which I understand is one of the few places locally where it can be purchased. It's utterly juicy, incredibly tender, ever-so-slightly gamier than most cuts of beef, and just melt-in-your-mouth delicious. Here, see for yourself.


Sorry, vegetarians.

In addition to the meat centerpiece, there are also always lots of other Brazilian treats available at these churrascos. Wonderfully sauteed couve (Brazilian collard greens); gallons of feijão (Brazilian black beans), and delightfully rich brigadeiro. And, of course, no Brazilian party would be complete without lots and lots of caipirinha, a delicious and rather dangerous drink made from a Brazilian alcohol called cachaça.


After a serving of this, you can justify another pound of meat.
And another caipirinha.

As for me, I needed an excuse to use my new cupcake caddy, so I strayed from the theme and brought a version of these cupcakes made with French vanilla cake, chocolate filling, and caramel buttercream icing topped with chocolate chips. When Phillip heard I was bringing cupcakes, he told me he looked them up in his dictionary and the proper word for them was "queques," but despite checking several Portugese-English and Spanish-English dictionaries online, I can't collaborate this. In fact, the only thing I found online that translated "queque" for me was this.

Phillip?



Well, whatever it is that queque actually means, suffice it to say that I like it.

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Las Vegas, part II - Sushi Samba

Have I mentioned yet that our dinner on Saturday was epic? It was. It was E-P-I-C.

My brother had been to Sushi Samba twice on a recent business trip to Vegas, and both times he had indulged in their tasting menu. When he told me how fantastic it was, we agreed we'd splurge on that instead of coughing up the $165 per person to see Love, for which my parents had received a couple of free tickets. So Larry, his wife Roseanne, Chris and I headed on over to Sushi Samba on Saturday night to find ourselves a little Vegas dining experience of sorts. And find it we most certainly did.

Sushi Samba is a fusion restaurant, blending the cuisines of Japan, Brazil, and Peru. I personally don't balk at fusion so long as it's done well, and I think Sushi Samba falls into this category. While I don't think everything we ate necessarily melded together to create a cohesive whole, I also thought everything we tasted was outstanding; for me, that's enough.

Like most of the upscale Vegas dining institutions, Sushi Samba is located in a hotel on the Strip - in this case, the Shoppes at the Palazzo. After all I'd heard about SS, I was surprised that the decor seemed just a little thrown together; for example, the sign outside appeared to be a non-permanent banner. The interior combined edgy design elements with judicious use of bright color to interesting effect, but the presence of several large television screens ruined it for me. I never, ever, ever want a television screen in the dining area of a restaurant. Ever. And that is doubly - no, triply - true when I'm paying a chunk of change for my meal.


The cool, sans-television portion of the decor.

We had reservations and were promptly seated. There was a little scuffle when we asked our server if we could move to another table (with nicer lighting so I could better photograph my food - although we did not confess this to her) and one of the other servers got cranky, I think because we were encroaching on her territory. However, she eventually huffed off and we were left with our original server, Vanessa, who was fantastic.


See, this lovely shot of the menu would not have worked at that other table.
It was just too dark.

I started my meal by ordering a Chu-cumber, which is basically a cucumber martini (or, as SS calls them, "Chu-tinis") made with Japanese shochu rather than vodka. This particular cocktail was made with iichiko and fresh cucumber mixed, inexplicably (but tastily) with St. Germain Elderflower (apparently, Japan, Brazil, and Peru don't have a good enough selection of liquor, so France had to get in on the game, as well). Odd mix that it was, my Chu-cumber(s) were downright delicious - not too sweet, refreshingly light, and far too easy to drink. A very nice accompaniment to my meal.


Don't-chu think this looks good?

Sushi Samba's tasting menus come in two varieties; a 7-course traditional omakase for $100 per person and a 7-course meal comprised of signature items selected by the server in conjunction with the chef from SS's regular dinner menu for $80 per person. Larry had tried the $80 version on his previous visits and had thought it superb, so the two of us went with that (note that all the photos below show both of our portions combined).

The first course that arrived on the scene was a pair of taquitos made with yellowtail, avocado, and roasted corn miso served with fresh lime and a sauce made from a Peruvian red pepper called aji panca. The raw yellowtail combined with the avocado made for a lovely, smooth texture that contrasted well with the crispy taco shell, but I thought the strong corn note in the shell overpowered the yellowtail a little too much. Tasty, to be sure, but at $6 apiece for a pretty small taquito, I don't think I would order these again.


When you live in Texas, even yellowtail taquitos have
a high standard to live up to.

The next course was the stuff fusion dreams are made of. It was a quartet of sashimi tiraditos (a tiradito is the raw-fish doppleganger of ceviche). There was a sake (salmon) in an orange and mustard miso sauce; a kanpachi (amberjack) bathing in a sauce made of yuzu, sea salt, and black truffle oil and topped with scallions; a hamachi (yellowtail) with red jalapeno and lemongrass in what I believe was a tomato-based sauce; and a maguro (tuna) with granny smith apple, serrano, and lime.


Now this is fusion.

Vanessa suggested that we eat the tiraditos clockwise, beginning with the salmon. As I ate my way through the progession, I was reminded of Violet Beauregarde, the girl from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory who met her fate while chewing a piece of gum that, flavor-wise, served up three full courses in a single piece. The flavors were all utterly unique, and just when I thought my palate understood each bite, the notes would suddenly shift, and develop into something completely different, yet beautifully complementary to that which had preceded it. After blissfully savoring the entire assortment, I tried mightily to choose a favorite, and eventually settled upon the kanpachi. Even now, four days later, the ocean-y fresh flavor of that fish - followed by the juicy yuzu, the hint of truffle oil, and the magically subtle finishing note of the sea salt - still lingers on my tongue. Marvelous.

We didn't have long to mourn the departure of the tiraditos before we were forced to turn our attention to the arrival of a pair of SS's interpretation of anticuchos.


This photo does not do this plate justice at all.

This version was made with sea bass in a lovely miso sauce and served with the most amazing Peruvian corn I've ever tasted (OK, it was the only Peruvian corn I've ever tasted - quite possibly the best corn I've ever tasted). The kernels were huge and plump, and the texture was absolutely perfect - soft on the outside with a surprising, very fresh-tasting firmness on the inside that was just delightful. When corn is competing with sea bass on the deliciousness scale, you know it's good. And that is not at all to say the sea bass was at all bad; it's just that the corn was so startlingly good that it simply shone. It's all about expectations, isn't it?

It was at this point that I realized we had only had three of our seven courses. Could I make it? Oh yes, I could. We soldiered bravely onward.

And then. And then the sushi course arrived. I nearly fainted when Vanessa set this plate down in front of us.


Oh sushi my sushi.

There were three rolls; the Samba Strip, which was Maine lobster with mango, tomato, and chives rolled in soy paper, covered in crispy rice and served with a peanut curry sauce. This was good overall, but oddly bland; I thought it was much better with my usual soy and wasabi blend than with the curry sauce that came with it.

Then SS's version of a spicy tuna roll, the Neo Tokyo - yellowfin rolled in rice with a bit of tempura flake, covered with a slab of maguro, and dotted with "eyes" of the aji panca sauce. Excellent, but not as special as some of the other parts of our meal.

Finally, there was a BoBo Brazil - kobe beef with avocado, kaiware (sprouted daikon radish seeds), shiso leaves, a smidge of red onion, and chimichurri sauce, of all things. The menu said the beef was seared, but it tasted very much raw to me (which is a good thing). This roll had my number. Again, fusion at its best - ingredients I would never have thought to put together but somehow, as a whole, it just worked. I think this may have been my favorite part of the dinner; there would probably be some sort of duel to the death between the BoBo Brazil and the tiraditos, and I'm pretty sure both the winner and the loser would be doomed to being eaten by me.

After we had had our way with the sushi course, the final savory course arrived - a wild mushroom toban-yaki topped with a wonderful, impossibly tender duck breast. Ohhhh so good standing alone, particularly the mushrooms, which, like the Peruvian corn, had that wonderful firm freshness about them, but I don't think the course quite held a candle to the I-just-might-order-this-for-my-last-meal status of the tiraditos and BoBo Brazil. And the rich heaviness of the duck in its creamy sauce was a little confusing after the wonderful lightness of the sushi.


A bit more rich than I wanted at the moment...and yet, just look at that beautifully rare duck.

Before I tackle dessert, I should also mention the outstanding dry aged New York strip that Chris ordered in lieu of the 7-course feast. We all thought he was nuts for eschewing the tasting menu (because he is), but I have to admit that this was a damn fine piece of meat. And it came on a tray the size of Brazil itself that was literally groaning with the weight of the myriad of sides and sauces that accompanied it. Worthy of note: the mound of collard greens cut into neat ribbons and sauteed to perfection.


Here is where the Brazilian part of the fusion comes in handy.

Just when we thought we couldn't eat another wafer thin mint, the dessert course arrived. Or, I should say, the dessert courses. There was a warm chocolate banana cake with maple butter, banana chips, and ice cream; a Choco Duo - dark and white chocolate custards layered with hazelnut croquant and finished with a bit of gold leaf; and a pair of taquitos stuffed with banana, doce de leite, and Peruvian chocolate in a crispy taco shell drizzled with honey.


Oh baby


Yes


YES

The chocolate banana cake was the star of the show (the attention-getting sparkler on the plate didn't hurt), but all were terrific. I think the Choco Duo was my least favorite, but that's probably in part because it was the least unusual, despite its gold leaf adornment.

I probably ought to wrap up this post before it takes as long to read as our seven courses took to eat. Overall, I was very pleased with our dining experience at Sushi Samba. The food was truly outstanding, and although I sometimes had a little trouble marrying the courses to one another to create a unified experience, each course standing alone was wonderful enough that I didn't mind a bit. Service was excellent, and I thought the price was not at all bad considering the quality and quantity of our meal. Now if they would just do away with those televisions...

Nonetheless, definitely worth a visit. If you get a chance, samba on over to Sushi Samba and see for yourself.

Sushi Samba
3327 Las Vegas Boulevard
Las Vegas, NV 89109

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