Boi Na Braza
Churrascarias, Brazilian steer-sheep-pig stickers, feature servers dressed in baggy pants and shiny boots brandishing knives along with skewers of grilled meat. They continuously walk around serving slices of these meats until your trousers burst, slapping gobs of tuna fish salad (yes, there is an all-you-can-eat salad bar) from your plate to the chin of the diner at the next table. Most of the grilled meat from these churrascarias tends to be dry. But Boi Na Braza's 19 cuts of meat are mostly juicy and flavorful. And don't forget to sign up for their frequent diner angioplasty program.

It looks like a stage prop instead of a restaurant ambiance trinket. One whole corner of Sea Grill's bar is a sloping bin filled with crushed ice. Imbedded in the ice is an assortment of sea life: baby octopus, clams, oysters, tiger prawns, a pair of red snappers, a salmon, a pair of striped bass and little bunches of golden trout scattered about for color interest. But the most interesting specimens surfing on Sea Grill's ice floes proved to be the most colorful students in this hackneyed school, with deep reds framed with pale gold threads. They had sloping foreheads with snouts barring rows of jagged teeth, resembling a strange genetic collision between Flipper, a parrot and Toto. Those teeth, in conjunction with the droll expression on their--we hesitate to say faces--heads with mouths half open, made them look as though they were about to speak. A manager said they were weasel fish and that their imposing dental work was used to remove algae from rocks and such. But we just like to imagine how swell it would be if that loudly colored fish could curl its lips in a knowing grin. After all, what seafood joint wouldn't kill for a dead fish mascot with a toothy smirk?

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