Andy HoffmanA friend told us we had to visit Bichinho, a settlement a few miles afield from Tiradentes, a colonial town in Minas Gerais in Brazil. He also told us to have lunch at D’Angela’s. “Get there early, before the line forms.” Tiradentes has claim to history: Brazil’s independence leaders met in and around it. Bichino sprung up more recently, when artisans built up a community to handmake the kinds of artifacts that would decorate home reconstructed in a colonial style. Tables, chairs, cabinets, pillows, stoneware, lighting, and fabrics fill the shelves of the small shops and ateliers along the one road that defines the town. Think of it as a colonial-style Brazilian anti-IKEA, minus the annoying burden of assembly but plus enduring quality.
So we got up relatively early in the morning to explore Bichinho. We checked the map, which confirmed how close it was, but then said it would take over half an hour to drive there. The road turned out to be narrow, hilly, and paved in cobblestone. It did take a bone-rattle 35 minutes to cover the distance. We went through what seemed to be the town and paid three dollars to park, asking the attendant about D’Angela’s. “A kilometer down the road.” We began wandering in and out of shops, many of which had exquisite rough-hewn furniture, beautiful goods at a tenth of American prices. Many of the patterns and designs employ indigenous people’s art.
Time moved on and we realize that to get to D’Angela’s near noon we had to begin walking. Very soon we realized that the town’s commercial section continued down the stone road. We passed dozens more workshops and stores before stopping to ask how much further, as we had already traversed a kilometer. The shopkeeper told us, “A kilometer down the road.” We trudged on under the blazing sun. At last we reached what appeared to be the town center and located D’Angela’s. Just past noon and no line yet.
The restaurant held well over 100 people, with three indoor rooms and a capacious garden. The entire space received fresh mountain breezes through the open walls. Families gathered laughing and gossiping, waiting their turn at the all-you-can-eat buffet. The buffet itself represented a feast for the eyes. They kept the food hot with wood fires in two large hearths each ten feet long and four feet across. There were fifty hot items, mostly traditional fare from Minas, like their version of polenta, feijoada, and chicken stews with quiabo (okra). Deb observed that this place served food the way large farms might have a century ago. Everything from the fried manioc to the brisket and black beans was prepared to perfection. There was a salad bar off to one side next to a desert table. We each visited the buffet several times before undertaking the mile and a half walk uphill back to the car. Unbelievably, this feast cost less than $12 each. If not for the cobblestone road each way, I would eat there every day.