Tag: Culinary Travel

  • Formula 1 Luxury Travel: 7 Reasons Every Grand Prix Is More Than Just a Race

    Formula 1 Luxury Travel: 7 Reasons Every Grand Prix Is More Than Just a Race

    Formula 1 Luxury Travel: 7 Reasons to Go Beyond the Race Formula 1 luxury travel collage featuring a Ferrari race-grid scene, Hotel Unique’s rooftop, Mont Bar dishes, and a cocktail.

    Formula 1 luxury travel started with an interest in racing and turned into a reason to explore whole cities. Working at Ferrari got me interested in Formula 1. Traveling for races turned that interest into something much bigger. Now, booking a Grand Prix means a lot more than choosing a flight and buying a ticket. I am researching restaurants, comparing hotels, figuring out which cocktail bars I can fit in, and deciding how many extra days I can justify taking off work. Usually, I can justify a few.

    Formula 1 luxury travel brings together most of the things I enjoy: racing, food, cocktails, hotels, and getting to know a city well enough that I want to come back.

    The race still matters. I care who wins. But when I look back on these trips, I remember much more than what happened on Sunday. I remember the meal I am still talking about months later. The bartender who took the time to explain a drink. The hotel that became part of the experience. The people sitting around me at the circuit.

    I collect watches, sneakers, T-shirts, and hats. I still enjoy all of them. But experiences have become my favorite thing to collect. The way I think about spending money has changed because of that. I still buy things, but now I find myself asking how much I want something compared with another trip, another dinner, or another few days somewhere I love. Travel has become a much bigger part of what I work for and what I look forward to.

    I also have a full-time job and a limited amount of time away from it. When I take a race trip, I want those days to count. That means thinking about where the money goes, what is actually worth paying for, and how much I can realistically fit into a week without turning a vacation into another job.

    Formula 1 gives me the reason to book the trip. Everything around it is what turns that trip into something I remember.

    If you want to understand where that really started for me, read The Trip That Changed Everything. My first São Paulo Grand Prix ended up changing much more than where I wanted to watch Formula 1.

    1. It Gives Me a Reason to Go Somewhere—and Go Back

    São Paulo helped renew my love of gastronomy. The city introduced me to restaurants that are now among my favorites anywhere in the world, and it quickly became somewhere I wanted to keep returning to. I have written much more about the city in my São Paulo restaurant guide and my São Paulo destination coverage.

    Barcelona taught me something different. It made me think more about the history behind the food and wine I was enjoying. You can sit down to dinner and have hundreds of years of tradition behind what ends up on the table. Then you walk outside and find yourself surrounded by buildings and neighborhoods that existed centuries before the United States was even a country. That puts things in perspective.

    I have always appreciated a great meal and a good glass of wine. Barcelona made me appreciate how much more there can be behind both—the people, the traditions, the history, and the culture that helped create them.

    That is one of the biggest reasons I like returning to places instead of treating every trip as a checklist. The second visit is different. There is less pressure to see everything. I can go back to a restaurant I already love, try somewhere new, spend more time in a neighborhood that interested me the first time, or simply leave part of the day open. Having favorites gives me a starting point without making me feel like I have finished exploring the city.

    I already have restaurants and places I am excited to return to, but I do not feel remotely finished with the city. Every trip becomes a decision between going back to somewhere I already know I love and making room for somewhere new.

    It is a good problem to have. My restaurant list just has very little respect for the number of days I actually have available.

    That is what Formula 1 luxury travel has become for me. The race gets me to the city, but everything I discover around it gives me a reason to return.

    2. The Food Can Be as Memorable as the Race

    I take restaurant reservations seriously. Anyone who has traveled with me—or looked at one of my itineraries—can probably figure that out.

    In Barcelona, Mont Bar became one of my favorite meals anywhere, while Disfrutar was a completely different kind of experience. I would not really compare the two directly. Mont Bar felt more relaxed, intimate and personal. Disfrutar was more theatrical, technical and built around a much longer progression of courses. Both stood out for very different reasons.

    In São Paulo, Evvai remains my favorite restaurant in the world. D.O.M., Tuju, A Casa do Porco and Tan Tan have all been part of the reason I keep wanting to explore more of the city’s food. These meals become things I look forward to for months.

    A meal that changes your mind

    I want to see what a chef is doing, try ingredients I might never order on my own, and understand why a dish works. Sometimes the kitchen puts something in front of me that I would have skipped on a menu, and it ends up being one of the best things I eat all trip.

    Evvai managed that with its take on feijoada. I do not generally like beans, yet I loved that dish. That is a pretty convincing argument for occasionally letting someone who knows what they are doing choose dinner.

    Staying with familiar ingredients would have cost me an experience I still remember. I explain more about that in my take on whether tasting menus are worth it.

    The explanation matters, too. Evvai’s pop-art course cards gave me something to connect with as the dishes arrived and something to take home afterward. I enjoy knowing what inspired a preparation and why the ingredients belong together. It makes me pay closer attention to what I am eating.

    Mont Bar also showed me how much the people and the room contribute to dinner. The team took time to talk with us, the music helped give the place personality, and the service felt comfortable. It was ambitious food without the experience ever feeling stiff.

    Returning favorites and the next reservation

    For my upcoming November 2026 trip to São Paulo, I am planning a little of both: returning to places I already know I love and making room for somewhere new. I am going back to Evvai and Tan Tan, and I want to try Goya Zushi and Jacó.

    If I can make the timing work, I also want to get back to A Casa do Porco. That may even end up being lunch before my flight home, which would be a pretty good way to finish the trip.

    I also plan to spend another evening at Rosewood São Paulo, even though I am staying elsewhere for this trip. Taraz and Rabo di Galo are both places I enjoyed enough to want to return to, and Rosewood has become one of those hotels where I am happy to spend an evening even when I am not staying there.

    I may also make my way back to Palácio Tangará during Grand Prix week.

    On my previous visits during Grand Prix week, the security presence at Palácio Tangará was noticeable. Race-week access is something I would confirm with the hotel before making plans. If I book dinner there, I will confirm the reservation, arrival instructions and any restrictions directly. A restaurant reservation should never be treated as a promise of access to teams, drivers or private areas.

    That gives me another excuse to go back, have dinner or a drink, enjoy the hotel, and take in some of the atmosphere surrounding race week.

    The race is obviously the center of the trip, but Formula 1 spills into the hotels, restaurants, bars, and the rest of the city. You start noticing teams, sponsors, and fans everywhere, and places that are already interesting take on a completely different energy for the week.

    A famous restaurant name may get me researching, but the full experience is what makes me want another reservation: the cooking, the drinks, the room, the people, and the feeling of being somewhere I know I will think about again after I get home.

    For me, food is a major part of Formula 1 luxury travel. A Grand Prix weekend might start with the race schedule, but some of the restaurant reservations become experiences I anticipate just as much.

    3. The Hotel Has to Earn Its Place in the Trip

    I enjoy a great hotel, but I also want it to make sense for the trip I am actually taking. São Paulo is a good example because I have stayed at several of the city’s top hotels, and they each offer something different.

    For a Formula 1 weekend, Hotel Unique is still my best overall pick. It has the atmosphere, the rooftop, the crowd, and the energy that fit the São Paulo Grand Prix weekend especially well.

    I have also been looking at Posh Club Grand Prix parties for my November 2026 trip. Before building an evening around one, I would check the organizer’s current venue, dates, ticket requirements and hotel access rules before booking.

    A future stay is not a finished review

    For my upcoming November 2026 trip, though, I decided to stay at W São Paulo. Part of the reason is the rooftop.

    I like having somewhere at the hotel where I can come back after a long day, have a drink, and still feel like the night is not over. But I also want to experience the W as a complete hotel and get to know it better.

    I have spent enough time comparing São Paulo hotels that sometimes the only real way to understand one is to stay there and see how it fits into the trip.

    That does not mean I think the W is the most luxurious hotel in São Paulo. If we are talking about pure luxury, Rosewood São Paulo is on another level. The rooms, design, and overall experience make it one of the most impressive hotels I have stayed at in the city.

    Palácio Tangará belongs in that conversation as well. It offers a very different kind of luxury—quieter, more traditional, and removed from some of the energy of the city center.

    And then there is Emiliano, which is still on my list. I have not stayed there yet, so I am not going to pretend I can rank it against hotels I have actually experienced. But based on its reputation and location, it is one I want to get to know for myself.

    The most luxurious hotel is not automatically the best hotel for every trip.

    That is especially true with Formula 1 luxury travel, where the right hotel can become part of the race-week experience rather than simply somewhere to sleep.

    A beautiful room matters. So do the service, the crowd, the bars, the location, and what happens when I come back at the end of the night. That is what I am really paying for.

    4. There Is Usually a Cocktail Worth Finding

    My research rarely ends with the restaurant. Cocktail bars become part of the trip too, but I do not choose every bar because it appears on a World’s 50 Best list or because someone considers it a temple of mixology. Sometimes I want that experience. Sometimes I just want a good drink and somewhere comfortable to sit down.

    In São Paulo, Tan Tan is one of the places I keep going back to. I like that it works as both a restaurant and a serious cocktail bar. The Tsukemono I enjoyed was a good example: tequila, wasabi, cucumber and orange bitters may not sound like an obvious combination, but it worked for me. That is a memory of the drink I had, rather than a promise about the current menu.

    The Liquor Store gave me something completely different. On my visit, it felt like a very small, intimate bar, and that changed the experience. The bartenders can spend more time talking with you, figuring out what you actually like, and adjusting drinks around your preferences.

    That is one of the things I appreciate most about a great cocktail bar. The drink matters, but so does the person making it.

    Destination bars and the hotel rooftop

    Paradiso in Barcelona was another kind of experience. The creativity, presentation, and atmosphere make the bar a destination in itself. It is the type of place I specifically plan around because I want to see what they are doing.

    But not every memorable drink needs that kind of production.

    While staying at Sir Victor in Barcelona, the rooftop became my go-to after a long day exploring the city. After walking all day, a few liters of water and a couple of drinks up there became part of the routine. It was not about chasing another famous cocktail bar or checking another place off a list. Sometimes I just wanted somewhere comfortable to sit, cool down, look out over Barcelona, and relax before deciding what came next.

    I found the same thing in São Paulo. After spending an entire day at Interlagos, sometimes the last thing I want to do is immediately rush somewhere else.

    The bar at the InterContinental São Paulo became a good place to sit down, have a drink, and relax for a while before getting ready for dinner. I have used the W São Paulo the same way. Sometimes a hotel bar is exactly what I need after a race day: somewhere comfortable, a good cocktail, and an hour when I do not have to be anywhere.

    Then there are places like Overstory in New York, where the setting becomes part of the experience. You are there for the cocktails, but being high above Manhattan with that view turns a drink into something bigger.

    I do not need every cocktail bar to have an award, a complicated concept, or a place on a global ranking.

    I also have to be realistic about how much I try to fit into one night. A cocktail before dinner, a long wine pairing, and several bars afterward can sound like a great plan when I am sitting at home building the itinerary. Then I remember there is usually another full day waiting for me.

    At this point, I would rather give one or two places enough time to enjoy them than spend the entire night watching the clock and rushing to the next reservation.

    The problem is that the list never gets shorter. There are only so many dinners, cocktails, and evenings in one trip, and somehow I always find more places than I have time for.

    5. I Want to See More Than the Circuit

    If I am taking time off work and flying to another country, I want time to experience the place beyond the race. That means leaving room for neighborhoods, architecture, museums, food, and sometimes just walking around without every hour assigned to something.

    Barcelona made that especially clear to me. There is so much history built into the city that even a normal walk can become part of the experience. Gaudí’s architecture, the Gothic Quarter, the old streets, the cafés, and the markets all gave me reasons to keep exploring beyond the race itself.

    São Paulo has been different, but just as interesting. I love the street art at Beco do Batman. I have spent time exploring Ibirapuera Park, one of the city’s major cultural and green spaces, and I have visited the Ayrton Senna memorial there. Ibirapuera is the kind of place where you can spend hours walking and still feel like you have only seen part of it.

    The places still on my list

    There are still parts of São Paulo I want to experience more deeply. One of them is Liberdade, the neighborhood most closely associated with São Paulo’s Japanese community. I especially want to experience it on a weekend, when the streets are busier and the neighborhood has more of that festival and street-market atmosphere.

    Another experience on my wish list is a Sunday morning exploring the car scene around Avenida Europa. Classic cars, Ferraris, Porsches and other exotics are very much my kind of Sunday morning.

    Of course, there is one problem. During Grand Prix weekend, Sunday morning is not going to happen. I will be at Interlagos.

    Every trip gives me another list of places I want to return to and things I still have not managed to fit in.

    Give yourself time to enjoy the city

    Race days themselves can take more out of you than the itinerary suggests. In Barcelona, I walked more than twelve miles on each of those days, including getting to the circuit and exploring once I was inside. I loved it, but that is a substantial day before dinner even enters the conversation.

    I wrote more about that weekend in Why I Love Formula 1: Racing, Travel & Belonging.

    So when I say to allow extra days, part of the reason is simply having enough energy to enjoy where you are. I do not want to fly to another country, spend every day at the circuit, eat dinner, go back to the hotel, and then head to the airport. That would feel like I attended a race in another country without really experiencing the country.

    I want time to stop for a coffee, walk into a shop, take a longer route because something caught my attention, or change the plan because someone gave me a recommendation that sounds better than what I had scheduled.

    But I also know there is a point where too much planning can start working against the trip. If every hour is assigned to something, then a spontaneous drink, an unexpected conversation, a neighborhood you want to keep exploring, or a restaurant you did not know about suddenly becomes a problem.

    The best version of these trips, for me, has both: enough planning that I do not miss the experiences I really care about, and enough open time that I can actually enjoy being somewhere new.

    To me, Formula 1 luxury travel should include enough time to experience the destination, not just the circuit.

    6. The Research Starts Long Before the Flight

    I spend a ridiculous amount of time planning these trips. And I mean hours. Possibly days.

    I search social media, read food blogs and travel sites, look through restaurant and bar accounts, ask chefs and bartenders for recommendations, and talk to other travelers about what they loved, what they would skip, and what they would actually do again.

    I also go through Reddit travel boards and local discussions, then use ChatGPT to keep researching the city’s restaurant, hotel, cocktail, and Formula 1 scenes from different angles.

    I want enough different sources and opinions that, by the time I start booking, I am not relying on one list or one person’s idea of what is worth doing. For dates, reservations, admission rules and package inclusions, I check the current information with the venue or official organizer.

    By the time I leave, I usually have a pretty good idea of what I want to do, what has to be booked in advance, and what can stay flexible.

    Build around the hardest bookings

    Restaurant reservations usually take the most attention. Some places open months ahead. Others release tables much closer to the date. Some require a credit card guarantee. Some disappear almost immediately. Wanting to eat somewhere and actually getting a reservation are two completely different things.

    Then there is the circuit. Getting there, getting back, deciding how early I need to leave, and figuring out what is realistic afterward all matter. A race day that looks simple on paper can become a very long day once transportation, walking, crowds, and weather are added to it.

    That is why I usually build the trip around the things that are hardest to move. The published race sessions are the starting point. A restaurant I really want may have only one reservation time available. A hotel event, party, or special experience may happen on one specific night.

    Once those pieces are in place, I can work the other meals, bars, neighborhoods, and sightseeing around them.

    The challenge is making those ideas work together. Every individual idea may sound easy enough on its own. Then I start putting everything on a map and matching it against race sessions, restaurant times, traffic, transportation, and how tired I am realistically going to be after a full day at the track.

    Geography, time and the whole budget

    Geography matters just as much as availability. Two reservations can both technically work and still make for a miserable evening if getting from one to the other takes too much time. I would rather spend that time enjoying where I am than sitting in traffic or watching the clock because I tried to force too much into one night.

    My time on the trip has value too.

    I also try to look at the full cost instead of convincing myself that every individual upgrade is reasonable. Flights, the hotel, race tickets, transportation, restaurants, drinks, shopping, and everything else all come out of the same budget.

    Looking at each purchase separately makes it very easy to say, “It is only a little more.” Then you add everything together. That is when the trip becomes expensive very quickly.

    The best itinerary protects the experiences I care about most while still leaving enough room to enjoy where I am.

    For me, good planning is part of Formula 1 luxury travel. I do all of that research so that once I get there, I can spend less time worrying about what I should be doing next.

    The goal is not to complete an itinerary. The goal is to enjoy the trip.

    7. The People Make the Weekend

    Some of my strongest Formula 1 memories involve getting soaked in Sector G at Interlagos, drinking beer and canned Jack and Coke, and talking with people I had never met before. We were there for the same reason. Different teams. Different drivers. Different countries. Same sport.

    When people made room for me under shelter from the rain, that small gesture stayed with me. We did not all speak the same language, but it did not matter much. Formula 1 already gave us something to talk about.

    For someone who does not always find it easy to start a conversation, that shared interest makes a difference. I have written more about those connections in Why I Love Formula 1: Racing, Travel & Belonging.

    Hospitality is a choice, not a requirement

    I have also done hospitality and paddock experiences, and I enjoy them. In the experiences I tried, I appreciated the additional access. The added comfort, food and drinks were part of the appeal too. I would happily do those experiences again when they make sense for the trip.

    But I have also become more realistic about what I want to spend on them.

    If upgrading to hospitality means giving up a great hotel, several dinners, extra days in the city, or another trip entirely, then I have to decide what matters more. Sometimes the answer is hospitality. Sometimes it is not. And that does not make the grandstands feel like a compromise.

    I genuinely enjoy being surrounded by fans who care about what is happening on the track as much as I do. When an overtake happens, someone crashes, the weather changes, or a favorite driver comes past, the reaction around you becomes part of the race. That atmosphere is hard to recreate anywhere else.

    To me, that belongs in a conversation about luxury travel too. Luxury does not always mean being separated from everyone else.

    Sometimes it is a beautiful hotel, an exceptional tasting menu, and a great cocktail. Sometimes it is standing in a packed grandstand in the rain with thousands of people losing their minds over what just happened on track. A great Formula 1 trip can have both.

    That mix is one of the things I like most about Formula 1 luxury travel. Luxury can mean hospitality and five-star hotels, but it can also mean having the freedom to choose the experiences that matter most to me.

    I want to enjoy the whole trip and make the budget work across all of it.

    Hospitality is still on the wish list. But so is another great weekend in the grandstands.

    If you want more of my thinking on experiencing the city beyond the race itself, I wrote about that in Formula 1 Beyond the Circuit.

    The Race Gets Me There. The Whole Trip Brings Me Back.

    Formula 1 has changed where I travel, how I plan, and what I want from a trip. I still look forward to race day. But I also look forward to the dinner reservation I made months earlier, going back to a bar I loved, spending time in a hotel that became part of the experience, and finding another reason to return to a city I thought I already knew.

    That is also why I write about these trips. I want to give people more than a photograph of an expensive room, a beautiful plate, or a race ticket.

    What made the experience memorable? Would I spend the money again? Would I stay there again? Would I make the reservation again? Where would I sit at the circuit, and would I choose those seats again?

    What I would want to know before booking

    That last question is something I have learned to take much more seriously.

    At my first São Paulo Grand Prix, I learned the value of a covered grandstand. It does not rain every São Paulo Grand Prix, but São Paulo weather can be strange. You can go from looking at a sky without a cloud in it to standing in a downpour. I know that from experience.

    Getting soaked at Interlagos gave me some great memories, but it also taught me that when I am choosing seats there again, having a roof over my head matters.

    Barcelona taught me the opposite weather lesson. My grandstand seats there were directly in the sun during the race. After spending hours at the circuit, that makes a difference too.

    Those experiences changed how I look at tickets. I am not only asking whether a grandstand has a good view of the track anymore.

    Is it covered? Where will the sun be during the race? Can I see a screen? What section of the circuit am I actually watching? How easy is it to get in and out? And after experiencing it once, would I pay to sit there again?

    Those details can matter just as much as the section number printed on the ticket. They are also exactly the kind of details I want to include when I write about these trips, because they are the things I wish I knew before buying the ticket myself.

    If you are planning your first Grand Prix trip, give yourself time around the race if you can. Pick a few experiences you genuinely care about. Book the things that are hardest to replace, then leave some room to explore.

    And when you buy the race ticket, do not just look at a circuit map and assume every grandstand experience is the same.

    Your version of Formula 1 luxury travel should reflect what you actually enjoy. Mine usually involves a great hotel, too many restaurant reservations, a few good cocktails, a lot of walking, and plenty of time around people who love Formula 1 as much as I do.

    It adds up. I am very aware of that.

    But when I look back at the races, the cities, the meals, the hotels, the people I met—and even the lessons learned from getting soaked in Brazil or cooked by the sun in Barcelona—I usually come to the same conclusion.

    Completely Unnecessary. Absolutely Worth It.

    Planning your own Interlagos weekend? My São Paulo Grand Prix Travel Guide covers my experiences with grandstands, transport, rain, food at the circuit, and fitting dinner into a race weekend.

  • Are Tasting Menus Worth It? What I’ve Learned Paying for My Own

    Are Tasting Menus Worth It? What I’ve Learned Paying for My Own

    “Are Tasting Menus Worth It?” banner with Richard Jarocki’s logo, four city skylines, plated dishes and a truffle box.

    I love tasting menus. That does not mean I think you should always order one.

    I have planned trips around restaurant reservations, tried things I never expected to eat, and spent amounts on dinner that would make plenty of people question my judgment. Fair enough. Sometimes I question it myself.

    Are tasting menus worth it? For me, yes—with conditions. The food has to be memorable, the hospitality has to make you comfortable, and the evening has to justify the money and time. That includes your money, your time, and the other things you could have done on that trip.

    An expensive dinner does not get a good review from me simply because I paid for it.

    How São Paulo Brought Me Back to Tasting Menus

    This interest started years before the trips I write about now. I used to frequent Harvest in Closter, New Jersey, and those tasting menus helped open my palate. I enjoyed letting the kitchen introduce me to things I might not have ordered myself.

    Then life happened. That part of my life slowed down.

    On my first trip to São Paulo, the omakase at Kazuo and the tasting menu at Evvai brought the urge back. I wanted to try more, learn more, and find out what another kitchen could show me.

    Since then, it has become part of how I live. I research restaurants, plan trips around meals, and come home thinking about the next experience.

    It is also part of what gets me to work every day. The next dollar, euro, real, or whatever currency I need for the next tasting menu or omakase has a purpose. I am working toward something I am excited to experience.

    Tasting Menu vs. À La Carte: What Am I Paying For?

    If I measured every meal by the amount of food on the table, I would make very different reservations.

    A tasting menu gives a kitchen the chance to introduce its cooking through a sequence of dishes. At its best, that means trying combinations I would never think to order, seeing ingredients used in unfamiliar ways, and enjoying a dinner that develops as it goes along.

    That is the appeal for me. I can order something familiar almost anywhere. When I commit to a tasting menu, I want the restaurant to give me a reason to hand over those decisions.

    But I still want dinner to taste good.

    An explanation can make a dish more interesting. It cannot make me enjoy a bite I do not want to eat again. Beautiful plates and elaborate presentations are welcome, but the food has to carry its part of the evening.

    Tasting Menus Changed What I Eat

    This is probably the strongest argument I can make for them: tasting menus have changed what I enjoy eating.

    Because of these meals, I have eaten guinea pig, pig’s face, pig’s brains, snails, and sea snails. I have eaten pigeon multiple times. I started eating eel and discovered that I actually enjoy it. At Metzi and D.O.M., I ate insects, too.

    I found my love of uni. Truffles and caviar have become very close friends of mine. Expensive friends, admittedly.

    And then there are beans. I do not like beans. Yet Evvai’s take on feijoada was amazing.

    That is what makes handing over some control worthwhile. Left to my own decisions, I might have read an ingredient, decided it was not for me, and ordered something familiar. A tasting menu puts a different preparation in front of me and gives me a reason to reconsider.

    I am not going to pretend I loved every unfamiliar thing I have ever eaten. But I would have missed foods I now enjoy if I had only ordered what I already knew I liked.

    Sometimes the value of a dinner follows you into the next restaurant. You see eel or uni on another menu, and this time you are excited to order it.

    It also works with food I already know. Disfrutar served me familiar flavors in forms I barely recognized—unexpected shapes, textures, and presentations that made me look twice before taking a bite. Evvai and Mont Bar have done that, too.

    I enjoy the moment when what I am looking at and what I am tasting do not quite match my expectations. When it works, I get to rediscover something familiar. The unusual form gets my attention; the flavor is what makes me want another bite.

    Sometimes Dinner Teaches You About the Place

    Tasting menus have also helped me understand where I am traveling.

    D.O.M. and Tuju taught me about Brazil’s ecosystems through their food. Those meals gave me more to think about than whether I liked an individual course. They made me curious about the places and environments behind the ingredients.

    At Tuju, I had the Chuva, or Rain, menu, and at D.O.M. I had Quando a Onça Bebe Água—“When the Jaguar Drinks Water.” Both used the meal to tell me something about Brazil beyond what was on the plate. That is what I remember most. I wasn’t just eating dinner; I was learning something about the place I was visiting.

    At Dos Pebrots in Barcelona, dinner became an introduction to Catalan gastronomic history. I was learning about the food of a place while actually tasting it.

    Maido did that for me in Peru. So did Astrid y Gastón, although that meal was à la carte. It was my first day in Peru, and yes, I overordered. Apparently, arriving in a new country makes me want to start tasting as much of it as possible immediately.

    That is an important distinction: a tasting menu is one way to learn about a place through food. My à la carte meal at Astrid y Gastón gave me that kind of introduction, too. What matters is the cooking, the people explaining it, and my willingness to try something unfamiliar.

    And the experience does not have to stop at food. At Carnaval, a cocktail tasting menu also introduced me to Peru through what was in the glass. They made me custom cocktails with Don Julio 1942, too, and seemed just as happy to crack open that bottle as I was to see what they would make with it.

    The custom drinks were another part of the evening—the kind of personal interaction that makes a bar stay with me long after the last sip.

    That matters to me because food is a big part of why I travel. I want to come home with more than photographs of attractive plates. I want to understand something I did not understand before I sat down.

    An explanation still has to connect to food I enjoy eating. But when a restaurant gets both right, I leave with a memory of the meal and a better understanding of the destination. That adds something to the value of the evening that counting courses never will.

    Mont Bar: When the Whole Evening Comes Together

    Mont Bar in Barcelona is one of my clearest examples of a tasting menu earning its place in a trip.

    I loved the smoked tuna belly with pine nut emulsion and the warm mochi with sobrasada and Mahón cheese. The mushroom course with mushroom ice cream and white miso gave me something unfamiliar that I actually wanted to eat.

    The wine pairing added discoveries, and the room felt lively and welcoming. After dinner, the team made me a complimentary custom cocktail to enjoy outside.

    I paid for my meal; that final drink was a gesture from the restaurant. It stayed with me because it felt personal.

    Mont Bar remains one of my five best meals. The reason is the combination: food, wine, people, and how comfortable I felt spending the evening there.

    Oiji Mi: The Dessert I Thought I Was Getting

    At Oiji Mi in New York, the first course was amazing. The Oiji Bowl gave me some of the best uni I have eaten, and the beef tartare and scallop were other favorites.

    But one of the most memorable moments came at dessert.

    My dining partner told me I would have to finish hers. That sounded like an arrangement I could work with.

    Then I looked up to get another piece, and her plate was empty. She had finished it herself.

    Apparently, I was no longer needed.

    We had arrived after a long day without much appetite, yet the food kept giving us reasons to carry on. I can describe ingredients and presentation, but someone going from “you’ll have to finish mine” to leaving nothing for me says quite a lot about that dessert.

    Those are the details that make a meal stay with me. The first bite, a standout dish, and the moment across the table that still makes me laugh afterward.

    You Do Not Need the Most Expensive Version

    At Viaggio’s chef’s counter, the pasta and the interaction with Chef Rabbit gave the experience its value. The ravioli, oxtail tortellini, and spaghetti were central to what I enjoyed.

    That is a useful reminder when planning a food-focused trip: a memorable meal does not have to be the most famous reservation available.

    Look at what interests you. It might be pasta, a particular chef’s approach, a regional cuisine, or the chance to sit at a counter and watch the kitchen work.

    Start there. The price should be something you evaluate after finding a reason to go.

    Check Whether You Actually Have a Choice

    Before you decide between a tasting menu and à la carte, check whether the restaurant offers both. Some restaurants only serve a tasting menu. You cannot assume you can sit down, skip the full experience, and order the two dishes you saw online.

    Research that before you book. Read the restaurant’s current menu and reservation terms, check whether different dining rooms or counters offer different formats, and ask if anything is unclear. Confirm dietary restrictions and substitutions ahead of time, too.

    If it is tasting-menu-only, the decision is whether you want that experience at all. There is nothing wrong with choosing another restaurant if you do not.

    That is especially important when booking for other people. Everyone should know what kind of meal they are agreeing to, how long it is likely to take, and what it is likely to cost.

    Before you reserve: confirm the menu format for your exact seating, the expected duration, any dietary accommodations, and the cancellation or no-show policy. If a deposit is required, check whether it comes off the final bill. Photographs and dishes below are from my visits; they are not a promise of what a restaurant serves today.

    I Overorder. The Rest of the Table Knows It.

    Even when à la carte is available, I am not exactly the person who orders two sensible dishes and hands back the menu.

    There can be just two of us, and I still want to try far more food than we need. I see another dish that sounds interesting, then another, and suddenly a normal dinner has become a much bigger project.

    I enjoy that. I want to taste things, compare them, and find out whether the dish I almost skipped ends up being the best thing on the table.

    But I have also seen the faces.

    Friends, family, friends of friends. I start ordering, and there is a look that says, “Wait. Are we splitting this equally?” Followed pretty closely by, “What the hell is an oyster with pearls?”

    That is my interpretation of the look, but the concern is fair. I may be thinking about what I want to try. Someone else may be calculating their share of a dinner that just got a lot more expensive without anyone asking them.

    My enthusiasm is not an agreement from everyone else to fund it.

    Before ordering half the menu, the table needs to agree on what we are sharing, roughly what we want to spend, and how we are splitting the bill. If I want something extra that nobody else wants, I need to make clear that it is my extra—not quietly add it to everybody’s equal share.

    A tasting menu can make the base food cost clearer because everyone knows the price ahead of time. Pairings, drinks, and supplements still need a conversation. One person’s enthusiasm for an upgrade does not make it a group decision.

    Does Everyone Need the Biggest Dinner Possible?

    No. Not even when I am tempted to order it.

    If à la carte is available and the dishes you are most excited about can be ordered that way, choose those dishes. Share something else if everyone wants to. Leave room for dessert—or another stop later.

    A long tasting menu works much better when everyone actually wants to be there. If one person wants an evening built around dinner and another wants to eat and explore the city, settle that before booking.

    I would rather have a table full of people enjoying the meal than a table full of people wondering how expensive my next sentence is going to be.

    Is the Wine Pairing Worth It? I Usually Skip It.

    I love a tasting menu, but I usually skip the wine pairing and order a few drinks instead. I like being able to drink at my own pace.

    Sometimes I want to stay with a cocktail I am enjoying. Sometimes I want a glass of wine without another selection arriving with the next course. I do not always want my drinking to follow the kitchen’s schedule.

    There is also how I feel afterward. In the United States and South America, wine pairings have usually left me with a hangover and sometimes what feels like acid reflux. With the pairings I have had in Europe, that has not been my experience.

    That is an observation about my own meals, not proof that European wine prevents either problem. I cannot tell you whether the difference was the wines, quantities, pacing, food, or something else.

    Mont Bar helped change how open I was to pairings. That experience encouraged me to order them at Disfrutar and Dos Pebrots, too. It also introduced me to Spanish wines I would now order independently from a wine list.

    That is value I can take into another meal. I am learning what I enjoy, instead of needing someone to choose for me every time.

    On my European trips, particularly in Spain, I have also noticed a different rhythm around drinking: wine with the meal, and cocktails often before or afterward. It felt different from the way I tend to drink when dining in the United States. That is how those particular evenings unfolded for me, rather than a rule for everyone in Europe.

    I still usually prefer choosing a few drinks and enjoying them at my own pace. But after Mont Bar, I am more willing to consider what a thoughtful pairing might add.

    You can commit to the food experience without committing to every drink offered alongside it.

    Supplements: If They Make Sense, Go for It

    If a supplement sounds interesting and the extra cost seems reasonable for what it adds, I am usually inclined to go for it.

    I am already there because I want to experience the cooking. If there is a dish I am particularly curious about, I do not want to skip it automatically just because it costs extra.

    The question is what the upgrade actually gives me.

    Is it a different dish or an ingredient that makes the preparation more appealing? Or is it mostly an excuse to sell me caviar or shave truffles over something?

    I love both. We have established that. But even close friends do not need to show up at every course.

    Give me a reason to want the supplement beyond the name of an expensive ingredient, and a price that makes sense to me, and I will happily consider it.

    Judge the Full Bill Before You Book

    The advertised menu price is where I start. I also check drinks, supplements, any booking charges, and how tax and service are handled at that restaurant.

    Then I ask a more useful question: would I still choose this dinner at the total I am realistically going to spend?

    That number matters much more than the lowest price shown on the menu.

    For a useful comparison, put the complete tasting-menu evening next to the à la carte meal you would realistically order. Include drinks in both. Check whether a supplement replaces a course or adds another one, and whether its price is per person. An optional upgrade should be a deliberate choice, not something you discover on the bill.

    So does the time involved. On a short trip, one long dinner occupies an evening you could spend somewhere else. Sometimes that reservation is exactly why I traveled. Other times, a shorter meal leaves room for more of the city.

    I am also not going to pretend I only book experiences when the money is comfortably sitting there. Sometimes, after doing the research, I decide a meal or experience is worth going into debt for. That is a personal decision about what matters to me, not a rule I expect anyone else to follow.

    The question is whether I want that experience enough to accept the full cost—including the interest if I carry a balance. I want to make that decision before I book, with a clear understanding of what I am committing to.

    Service Is Part of What I Am Buying

    When I book a tasting menu, I want to know about every dish I am served. Tell me what the ingredients are, where they come from, and why they belong together. Tell me the backstory: what inspired the dish, what it means to the chef, and how it connects to the place I am visiting.

    I want that conversation. I ask questions because I am interested, and those answers can become as memorable as the food itself.

    If I am eating something unfamiliar, I want to understand it. If a familiar ingredient arrives in a form I barely recognize, I want to know how the kitchen got there. And if a dish draws on a tradition or a childhood memory, I want to hear that story while I am tasting it.

    That is part of what I am paying for. The explanation gives me something to think about, and the conversation makes the experience personal.

    I also want something to take home. Give me the menu, the dish cards, the little pieces of the experience I can look through afterward. I photograph plenty, but I love having something that helps me remember what I ate and the stories that came with it.

    Evvai’s pop-art cards are exactly the kind of detail I mean. They gave me an explanation and description of the dishes, along with a sense of what inspired their creation. I could connect what I was tasting to the idea behind it, then take that reminder home.

    The artwork added to the fun. The cards made the explanations something I wanted to keep, and they gave me another way to revisit the meal afterward. MICHELIN notes that the accompanying illustrations are drawn by chef Luiz Filipe Souza himself, which makes them feel even more connected to the person creating the food.

    Thank you, Luiz Filipe.

    Those details matter when I get home and try to explain why a meal stayed with me. A card can bring back a dish, its inspiration, and the conversation around it in a way that a photograph of the plate alone might not.

    At D.O.M., I even bought one of their napkins to take home. Alex Atala’s punk-rock background connected with me because I was once a punk rocker, too.

    So yes, I went out for a tasting menu and bought a napkin. Completely unnecessary? Probably. But that little connection turned it into a souvenir I wanted to keep.

    The same goes for the drinks. Evvai and Disfrutar have both made me custom cocktails. Those moments made me feel special because someone took the time to make a drink for me.

    At The Modern, I loved the drink I was having so much that I never asked for a custom one. Sometimes finding something you want to order again is enough.

    For me, great service means sharing that enthusiasm. I want to feel comfortable asking questions, hear the stories behind the cooking, and leave knowing more than I did when I arrived. That is a big part of whether I want to return.

    Pacing matters as much as the number of courses

    A long meal needs room for conversation and time to enjoy what is already in front of you. When booking, ask how long the experience usually takes rather than guessing from the course count. If you have theater tickets, a flight, or another fixed commitment afterward, tell the restaurant before committing to the reservation.

    The right format also depends on the people at your table. Someone who enjoys hearing about every preparation may love an evening like this. Someone who wants a relaxed dinner without frequent explanations may prefer another setting. Both are reasonable ways to enjoy a meal.

    Why Travel for Food When I Live in New York?

    People ask me this, and I understand the question.

    I live in New York. I love the food scene here. Within reach of home, I can find an extraordinary range of cuisines, prices, and acclaimed restaurants. I do not have to board a plane to eat well.

    But when I travel for a meal, I am also traveling for the people, the place, and the culture around it.

    Learning about Brazil at a table in São Paulo, exploring Catalan food history in Barcelona, or arriving in Peru and immediately ordering too much at Astrid y Gastón gives the food a different context. The conversations, the surroundings, and everything I experience before and after dinner become part of the memory.

    I can love New York’s restaurants and still want to experience those things where they happen. That is why the journey is worth it to me.

    Would I Pay for It Again?

    That is the question I trust most after dinner.

    So, are tasting menus worth it? I judge that by whether I would pay for the experience again—not by how famous the restaurant is.

    Would I choose this restaurant again, knowing the full cost? Would I recommend it to someone who had saved for one special meal? Can I explain what made it worth doing beyond its reputation?

    Sometimes a tasting menu introduces me to food, wine, and people I will remember for years. Sometimes ordering a few dishes is exactly enough. And sometimes I order far too many. We have covered that.

    Harvest helped open my palate. Kazuo and Evvai brought that curiosity back. The meals since then have kept giving me reasons to follow it.

    This has become part of my lifestyle and something that gives me drive. There is another table I want to sit at, another place I want to understand, and another experience worth working toward.

    That is why I keep going to work, earning the money, doing the research, and making the reservation.

    Completely unnecessary. Absolutely worth it. When the restaurant earns it.

    What is the most you have spent on dinner—and, knowing what you know now, would you pay for it again? Tell me in the comments.

  • A Casa do Porco Review: São Paulo Tasting Menu & My Verdict

    A Casa do Porco Review: São Paulo Tasting Menu & My Verdict

    A Casa do Porco São Paulo restaurant review featuring pork dishes and the restaurant’s pink pig presentation

    A Casa do Porco at a Glance

    Location: Rua Araújo 124, República, São Paulo, Brazil

    Price during my visit: The eight-course IN.TE.RI.OR tasting menu was R$290, with an optional R$210 wine pairing. Prices and menus may have changed since my visit.

    Menu ordered: The eight-course IN.TE.RI.OR tasting menu, plus the off-menu sushi de papada served in the restaurant’s memorable pink pig presentation.

    Standout courses: San Zé Pork, the “Using Your Hands” sequence, Pork + Shrimp and the pork-loin carpaccio.

    Drinks: Cachaça Amorosa Chef’s Reserve was served with my opening course, but the drinks experience went well beyond that one pour. The cocktail menu was excellent—creative, distinctly Brazilian and strong enough to deserve attention alongside the food.

    Reservations or walk-ins: Reservations are accepted, with some tables retained for walk-ins. Prime weekend times can involve long waits, so reserve ahead or arrive early.

    My verdict: In my opinion, A Casa do Porco serves food worthy of one or even two Michelin stars. But it does not feel like a restaurant built around chasing stars. It feels committed to something more important: making exceptional Brazilian food that remains reasonably priced, energetic and accessible to the Brazilians who live there.

    Date visited: November 2024


    A Casa do Porco in São Paulo was absolutely worth visiting for its creative pork dishes, lively atmosphere, and distinctly Brazilian cooking. During my November 2024 visit, I ordered the eight-course IN.TE.RI.OR tasting menu, priced at R$290 at the time. San Zé Pork and the “Using Your Hands” sequence were highlights, while an extra order of sushi de papada arrived in a memorable pink pig presentation. This review covers what I ate, what stood out, and why the experience justified the attention. Menus and prices may have changed since my visit.

    The name translates to “House of the Pig,” and the restaurant makes no attempt to disguise its obsession. Pork is not simply the featured protein. It is the organizing principle behind the menu, the sourcing and the story chef Jefferson Rueda wants to tell about Brazil.

    That could easily become a gimmick.

    It doesn’t.

    A Restaurant Built Around the Whole Animal

    Jefferson Rueda approaches pork with the instincts of both a chef and a butcher. His cooking is rooted in the countryside of São Paulo state, but it is shaped by serious technique, experimentation and a commitment to using the entire animal.

    The result is food that can move from rustic to refined without losing its identity. Different cuts, textures and preparations appear across the menu, demonstrating how much range one ingredient can have when the kitchen refuses to treat it as a single idea.

    That whole-animal philosophy is also connected to the restaurant’s wider approach to sourcing. Rueda raises free-range Brazilian pig breeds and grows many of the vegetables used by the kitchen. The operation supports smaller producers and works to reduce waste across the supply chain.

    This is not sustainability added to the marketing after the fact. It is part of how the restaurant functions.

    Michelin currently recognizes A Casa do Porco with both a Bib Gourmand, for strong cooking at a comparatively accessible price, and a Green Star for its sustainability practices. That distinction is more accurate—and more interesting—than simply calling it a Michelin-starred restaurant.

    Serious Cooking Without the Usual Fine-Dining Theater

    What I appreciate most about A Casa do Porco is the lack of stiffness.

    The room is casual, energetic and sometimes loud. The open kitchen makes the cooking part of the atmosphere, while the mix of indoor seating, counter seats and outdoor tables reflects the pace of downtown São Paulo.

    This is not the kind of restaurant where everyone whispers over white tablecloths while servers deliver rehearsed speeches. It feels alive.

    The contrast is part of the appeal. The technique is serious, but the restaurant does not demand that guests treat dinner like a ceremony. You can commit to a tasting menu, order à la carte or approach the experience more casually, depending on how much time—and pork—you want.

    That accessibility is central to the restaurant’s identity. A Casa do Porco delivers ambitious cooking without building an intimidating wall around it.

    A Casa do Porco Tasting Menu: What I Ate in November 2024

    Menus evolve, so this should be read as a record of my November 2024 visit rather than a promise of what will be served today.

    I ordered the eight-course IN.TE.RI.OR menu. At the time, the printed price was R$290, with an optional R$210 wine pairing. The menu was presented as a journey through Jefferson Rueda’s childhood, countryside memories and the flavors of Brazil’s interior.

    The opening Countryside Flavors sequence immediately established that this would not be a conventional progression of plated courses. It included pork-shank terrine with cambuci and gherkins; pork tartare with radish and caruru leaf; Porco Real mortadella with brown butter and pork-crackling bread; and ora-pro-nóbis with ginger and turmeric. With my first course, I was also served a complimentary pour of Cachaça Amorosa Chef’s Reserve. I cannot say whether that pour was formally included with the tasting menu or offered more broadly, but it was a welcome start to my meal.

    The spread looked generous and intentionally informal—glazed roasted pork, sausage, tartare, greens, beans and accompaniments arriving together across the wooden counter. It felt closer to an abundant Brazilian table than a precious fine-dining arrangement.

    Next came Using Your Hands, a playful set that included a sweet-potato steamed bun with Milanese pork and beetroot mayonnaise; roasted-pork empadinha with hard cream cheese and couscous farofa; and “pork in a can” with cassava, banana, pork broth, miso and tucupi.

    The Raw Pork course combined pork-loin carpaccio with anchovies, capers and fermented mustard, accompanied by pork crackling with tomato powder and a tangerine-and-fresh-leaf salad. One presentation arrived as glossy pieces of raw pork on crisp bases, finished with small leaves and flowers. It was visually striking without losing sight of what the course was supposed to taste like.

    Pork + Shrimp brought together pasta, cotechino and shrimp with braised spinach, toasted-vegetable broth, shrimp oil and turmeric oil. Fond Memories followed with ground maize, braised pork rib, fried chicory, pickled vegetables and corn-and-cheese foam.

    The menu then reached San Zé Pork, one of the restaurant’s defining preparations: roasted pork, pork-and-sweetbread sausage and freshly harvested vegetables from the farm. This was the clearest expression of why the restaurant is called the House of the Pig. The pork was not treated as one heavy centerpiece; different cuts, textures and supporting flavors showed how much range the animal could offer.

    Dessert, titled “From the Cow’s Udders,” explored milk through toasted bread, rice pudding, toffee caramel, milk foam, fresh vanilla ice cream and crunchy peanuts. Homemade sweets and black coffee closed the meal, including strawberry sorbet with strawberry jam and whipped cream, cured cheese with pumpkin jam and pumpkin sprout, Rueda’s farm bananada, and chocolate with pork crackling.

    There was also one off-menu order that had nothing to do with completing the tasting-menu narrative. It arrived inside an oversized pink pig-head vessel, and I ordered it mainly because the presentation was too postable to ignore.

    Was it necessary?

    Not remotely.

    Did it belong in the photos?

    Absolutely.

    That moment captured the restaurant’s playful side—and, honestly, my own willingness to order something simply because it would make memorable content.

    The Drinks Should Not Be an Afterthought

    Rich food needs contrast, and the beverage program matters here.

    Brazilian ingredients and spirits—especially cachaça—give the drinks a sense of place, while wine and beer provide options for navigating a pork-heavy meal. The complimentary Cachaça Amorosa Chef’s Reserve served with my first course reinforced that connection to Brazil. Because I did not confirm the restaurant’s policy, I would treat it as part of my individual November 2024 experience rather than something every guest should automatically expect.

    This is one of those restaurants where ordering thoughtfully across the table makes more sense than defaulting to whatever sounds strongest or most expensive.

    Recognition That Still Means Something

    A Casa do Porco has spent years earning international attention, but its relevance is not based on one old award.

    In 2025, A Casa do Porco ranked No. 83 on The World’s 50 Best Restaurants and No. 25 on Latin America’s 50 Best Restaurants.

    It helped prove that a globally important dining destination could be casual, culturally specific, sustainability-minded and relatively accessible at the same time.

    That combination is rare.

    In my opinion, the cooking at A Casa do Porco is worthy of one or even two traditional Michelin stars. At the same time, it does not feel like a restaurant built around chasing stars. The room is lively, the atmosphere is informal and the pricing remains far more accessible than at many internationally celebrated tasting-menu restaurants.

    That may be the greater accomplishment. A Casa do Porco has earned global attention without turning itself into a restaurant designed primarily for awards, wealthy tourists or special-occasion dining. It still feels connected to São Paulo and accessible to the Brazilians who made it matter in the first place.

    A Casa do Porco Reservations: Planning Your Visit

    A Casa do Porco is located at Rua Araújo 124 in São Paulo’s República neighborhood.

    The restaurant accepts reservations, but it also keeps tables available for walk-ins each day. According to its current guidance, quieter periods are generally Monday through Thursday from 3:00 p.m. to 6:30 p.m. Weekends and holidays are considerably busier; without a reservation, arriving before 11:00 a.m. or preparing for a wait of two to three hours is advised.

    In other words: do not treat this as a place you can casually walk into at prime time and expect immediate seating.

    Plan ahead.

    Is A Casa do Porco Worth It?

    Yes—but not simply because it appears on famous lists.

    A Casa do Porco is worth visiting because it communicates a clear idea from beginning to end. The sourcing, whole-animal cooking, Brazilian identity, open kitchen and informal room all support the same point of view.

    It is creative without becoming detached from flavor. It is serious without becoming self-important. Most importantly, it feels specific to São Paulo and to Jefferson Rueda rather than like a fine-dining concept that could have been placed in any major city.

    Not every celebrated restaurant earns the hype. Some deliver more reputation than experience.

    A Casa do Porco remains one of the places that matters—not because pork is fashionable, but because the restaurant has found something meaningful to say with it.

    Absolutely worth it.

    A Casa do Porco is absolutely worth visiting for its creative pork preparations, distinctly Brazilian perspective and memorable presentation. Go for the tasting experience, but expect a lively restaurant rather than stiff traditional fine dining.

    Menus, prices and inclusions may have changed since my visit in November 2024. The complimentary cachaça described here was served with my first course, although I cannot confirm whether it accompanies every tasting experience.

    A Casa do Porco Website

    A Casa do Porco Instagram

    My Blog

    My Instagram

    IN.TE.RI.OR tasting menu at A Casa do Porco in São Paulo, photographed in November 2024.San Zé Pork tasting-menu course with roasted pork, sausage, beans and accompaniments at A Casa do Porco.Sushi de papada pork jowl sushi served in a pink pig-shaped vessel at A Casa do Porco.Porco Real mortadella with brown butter and pork-crackling bread at A Casa do Porco.
    Cachaça Amorosa Chef’s Reserve served at A Casa do Porco in São Paulo.Using Your Hands tasting-menu course with three pork bites at A Casa do Porco in São Paulo.Pork-loin carpaccio with pork crackling and fresh-leaf salad at A Casa do Porco in São Paulo.A Casa do Porco restaurant sign featuring its signature pig logo in São Paulo.Pork and Shrimp tasting-menu course served in toasted-vegetable broth at A Casa do Porco.
  • Richard Jarocki The Career I Built. The Passion That Was Always There

    Richard Jarocki The Career I Built. The Passion That Was Always There

    Featured image for Richard Jarocki's personal story about family recipes, travel, Formula 1, and fine dining.

    Where It All Began

    This is what shaped Richard Jarocki into who he is Today

    Long before I ever stepped into a car dealership…

    Long before Formula 1…

    Long before Michelin stars, cocktail bars, and international travel…

    There were my grandparents’ kitchens.

    My maternal grandparents lived just a few blocks from where I grew up, and I spent countless hours at their house.

    My grandfather was a retired attorney, but in my eyes, he was also an incredible home cook.

    Whenever he was in the kitchen, I wanted to be there too.

    I wasn’t the chef.

    I was his helper.

    He taught me the basics that every cook should know.

    How to fry an egg properly.

    How to make scrambled eggs.

    How to cook bacon… even if I burned more than a few slices while I was learning.

    Richard Jarocki Bacon sizzling in a black cast-iron skillet on an outdoor grill.
    Home cooking, June 2024: bacon in a cast-iron skillet.

    At the time, they seemed like simple lessons.

    Looking back, they were the foundation of everything that came later.

    He taught me that cooking wasn’t something to rush.

    It was something to enjoy.

    Going out to dinner was part of their routine too. They weren’t chasing the newest restaurant in town or the latest trend. They had their favorite places—restaurants where everyone knew them, where they knew the staff, and where every visit felt familiar.

    It wasn’t about finding something new.

    It was about enjoying good food with the people you loved.

    My grandmother was Italian, and her cooking is still the standard I compare comfort food against today.

    Her ziti.

    Her meatballs.

    Her sausage.

    Her pot roast.

    Those weren’t just family dinners.

    They became family traditions.

    As I got older, I realized those recipes wouldn’t last forever unless someone learned them.

    So instead of just showing up to eat, I started showing up to cook.

    I wanted to learn exactly how she made the meatballs.

    How she seasoned the sauce.

    How she knew the pot roast was finished without ever looking at a recipe.

    Today, those recipes are among my most treasured possessions.

    Not because they’re complicated.

    Because every time I make them, I’m back in her kitchen.

    My father’s side of the family shaped me in a different way.

    They were Polish, and family gatherings meant homemade pierogies, traditional Polish dishes, and incredible baked desserts.

    My Polish grandmother loved to bake.

    Today, our family still has many of her handwritten recipes.

    My Polish grandfather had a family herring recipe that had been passed down through generations. Before he passed away, he made sure my father received it.

    I have a copy too.

    When I was younger, I didn’t understand why both of my grandmothers spent so much time cooking and baking.

    Now I do.

    It was never just about the food.

    It was how they showed love.

    Looking back, I realize my appreciation for food didn’t begin in a Michelin-starred restaurant.

    It didn’t begin while traveling.

    It began around my grandparents’ tables.


    Then Life Took Me Somewhere Else

    Like most people, I needed to build a career.

    I never planned on selling cars.

    I walked into a dealership looking for a bookkeeping position. Instead, I was offered a sales position. I took a chance, and that decision changed the course of my life.

    The majority of my career was spent with Nissan, where I worked my way from salesperson to Finance Manager, then General Sales Manager, and eventually General Manager.

    Along the way, I also had the opportunity to work with Ford, BMW, and Ferrari.

    I’ve always loved cars.

    I still do.

    But after twenty-five years in the automotive industry, something changed.

    Cars gradually became more of a commodity than a hobby.

    Instead of admiring them simply as incredible machines, I found myself thinking about inventory, financing, deliveries, staffing, month-end objectives, and everything that comes with running a dealership.

    Cars became my profession.

    Food never stopped being my passion.

    Richard Jarocki  A silver Ferrari convertible inside a showroom, with a Formula 1 photograph on the wall behind it.
    A showroom photograph from the Ferrari chapter of Richard Jarocki’s automotive career.

    Building Something That Gave Me Time

    Throughout my automotive career, I was also building another business.

    Year after year, it continued to grow.

    Eventually, it reached a point where it gave me something I hadn’t had in a very long time.

    Time.

    For the first time in years, I was able to step back from many of the day-to-day responsibilities that came with managing a dealership.

    I wasn’t leaving the automotive industry.

    I was creating the freedom to pursue another part of who I had always been.

    Richard Jarocki Buildings and green palms in an oasis surrounded by high sand dunes in Peru.
    An oasis and sand dunes during Richard Jarocki’s Peru trip, May 2025.

    The Trip That Changed Everything

    A few years ago, I traveled to São Paulo for my first Brazilian Grand Prix.

    Like every Formula 1 fan, I couldn’t wait to experience the race.

    The speed.

    The atmosphere.

    The history.

    Richard Jarocki Spectators filling an open grandstand beside the Interlagos circuit under a cloudy sky.
    The grandstand atmosphere at Interlagos, November 2, 2024.

    But when I came home and looked through my photos, something surprised me.

    Some of my favorite memories weren’t from Interlagos.

    They were from the restaurants.

    The cocktail bars.

    The conversations around the table.

    The neighborhoods I explored because I had a reservation there.

    The race brought me to São Paulo.

    The food helped me understand it.

    That’s when I realized something I’d been doing for years without ever thinking about it.

    I wasn’t planning vacations around attractions.

    I was planning them around restaurants.

    Before I booked a hotel, I researched where I wanted to eat.

    Before I picked a neighborhood, I looked at the restaurants, cocktail bars, cafés, and markets nearby.

    Reservations came first.

    Everything else fit around them.

    Without realizing it, food had quietly become the center of almost every trip I’d ever planned.


    Why I Usually Choose the Tasting Menu

    People often ask why I order tasting menus so often.

    The answer has very little to do with luxury.

    It’s because I want the chef to challenge me.

    When I visit a restaurant for the first time, I don’t want to order only the dishes that sound familiar or comfortable.

    I want to experience the restaurant the way the chef envisioned it.

    Richard Jarocki A carefully plated course with green and pale sauces on a large gray plate at D.O.M. in São Paulo.
    A course at D.O.M., São Paulo, November 5, 2025.

    A tasting menu removes that decision.

    It forces me to trust the chef.

    It introduces me to ingredients I probably never would have ordered on my own.

    Some of the best dishes I’ve ever eaten are things I would have skipped if I had been ordering à la carte.

    That doesn’t mean I only enjoy tasting menus.

    If money—and my stomach—weren’t factors, I’d happily order almost the entire menu at many restaurants.

    I genuinely want to know what a kitchen is capable of.

    But ordering every dish becomes expensive, and after a certain point you’re simply too full to appreciate what you’re eating.

    A well-designed tasting menu solves that problem.

    The chef has already decided the progression, the pacing, and the portions.

    Every course tells part of the story.

    That’s why, whenever I visit a restaurant for the first time, I usually let the chef decide.

    Because some of the best meals I’ve ever had weren’t the dishes I wanted to order.

    They were the dishes I never would have ordered at all.


    More Than Great Food

    People sometimes assume I chase Michelin stars or expensive restaurants.

    That’s never been the point.

    Some of the best meals I’ve ever had weren’t the most expensive.

    What fascinates me is the story.

    The chef.

    The history.

    The ingredients.

    The culture.

    Richard Jarocki Four decorated small bites arranged on a sculpted stand
    Small bites at Metzi, São Paulo, November 6, 2025.

    A restaurant can teach you as much about a city as any museum or famous landmark.

    Food isn’t just something I eat while I travel.

    It’s how I experience a destination.


    Why I’m Sharing My Journey

    When I first started posting photos online, I wasn’t trying to become a food blogger.

    I simply wanted to remember the places I’d been.

    Then people started asking questions.

    Where should I eat?

    Which restaurant is actually worth the reservation?

    What cocktail bar shouldn’t I miss?

    Over time, I realized I wasn’t just sharing restaurants.

    I was helping people experience destinations through food.

    That’s what RichardJarocki.com is becoming.

    A place where I can share honest stories about restaurants, cocktail bars, luxury hotels, Formula 1 destinations, and the people who make them special.

    Not just telling you where to eat.

    Helping you understand why it’s worth going.

    Richard Jarocki A cocktail at Metzi in São PauloA pale cocktail in a coupe glass on a wooden table, with a curved upholstered banquette behind it.
    A cocktail at Metzi, São Paulo, November 6, 2025.

    Looking Ahead

    I’m still in the automotive industry.

    I still love cars.

    I always will.

    But today they’re no longer the only thing that defines me.

    For twenty-five years, I built a career that gave me stability, opportunity, and experiences I’ll always be grateful for.

    Now I’m investing in the passion that has quietly been part of my life since I was standing beside my grandfather learning how to fry an egg.

    Because I finally realized something.

    Food has never just been about eating.

    It’s about family.

    It’s about culture.

    It’s about travel.

    It’s about memories.

    It’s about the people sitting around the table.

    Richard Jarocki  standing on sand dunes at sunset, with rolling desert ridges behind him.
    A sunset moment in Peru, May 8, 2025.

    If my stories inspire someone to learn a family recipe before it’s too late, book the restaurant they’ve been debating, or discover a city through its food instead of a checklist of attractions, then every mile I’ve traveled and every article I’ve written has been worth it.

    Because the greatest meals aren’t always the most expensive.

    Sometimes they’re the ones that remind you where your story began.

    Then I created my brand Richard Jarocki

    Follow my IG

    Completely Unnecessary. Absolutely Worth It.

  • COQODAQ Brunch Review: Is the Fried Chicken and Caviar Worth It?

    COQODAQ Brunch Review: Is the Fried Chicken and Caviar Worth It?

    COQODAQ brunch collage featuring Golden Nuggets topped with caviar and truffle, Korean fried chicken and The Egg cocktail.

    “Luxury isn’t always white tablecloths and whispered conversations. Sometimes it’s Champagne, an egg-shaped cocktail, and a chicken nugget topped with black truffle.”

    Luxury isn’t always white tablecloths and whispered conversations. Sometimes it’s Champagne, an egg-shaped cocktail, and a chicken nugget topped with black truffle.

    This COQODAQ brunch review comes from my July 2026 visit in New York City. I went curious about the famous Golden Nuggets and left just as impressed by the less-publicized parts of the meal: the French toast, the hash browns, the cocktails, and the way the team handled a missed order.

    Why I Wanted to Try COQODAQ

    There are restaurants you visit because everyone is talking about them, and restaurants you visit because you want to understand why. COQODAQ was the second one. Like many people, the first thing that caught my attention wasn’t the dining room or the menu. It was a chicken nugget covered in caviar. I’ll admit it: I was skeptical.

    Luxury ingredients piled onto comfort food can easily become a gimmick. Too often, expensive toppings create a viral moment without building a memorable meal. I wondered whether COQODAQ was another restaurant designed for Instagram or whether there was a genuinely great kitchen behind all the attention.

    The more I learned, the more curious I became. This was another concept from a hospitality group whose restaurants and bars people planned evenings around. That curiosity eventually led me to brunch, where familiar dishes such as fried chicken, French toast, and hash browns would give me a good sense of the kitchen’s fundamentals.

    After spending nearly three hours working through almost the entire brunch menu, I walked away with a very different impression than I expected. Yes, the Golden Nuggets deserved the attention. But they weren’t the only reason I wanted to come back.

    A Dining Room That Lets You Settle In

    One thing I’ve come to appreciate while traveling is that the restaurants I remember most aren’t always the most expensive or technically ambitious. They’re the ones where every detail feels intentional. From the moment I walked into COQODAQ, that intention was obvious.

    Warm lighting reflected off dark wood tables and amber glassware, creating a space that felt refined without becoming formal. There wasn’t an oversized floral display begging to be photographed. The room felt comfortable and confident, rather than like a backdrop built around the next social-media post.

    Even as brunch service picked up, it never became chaotic. Conversations remained at a comfortable volume, courses arrived with thoughtful pacing, and at no point did I feel the staff was trying to rush us through the meal to turn the table. That matters when you’re settling in for more than a quick plate of eggs.

    COQODAQ encouraged us to order another drink, have another conversation, and enjoy one more bite before the next course arrived. That slower rhythm set the tone for everything that followed.

    The Brucket List: A Proper Introduction

    I appreciate restaurants that make it easy for first-time guests to understand what the kitchen does well. The Brucket List did exactly that: a selection of COQO D’OEUVRES followed by an entrée. Rather than trying to guess which small plates would define the restaurant, I could work through the spread.

    By the time the first round arrived, our table looked less like an ordinary brunch and more like the opening courses of a tasting menu. Everything was thoughtfully plated, the courses arrived at a comfortable pace, and nothing felt rushed. The price listed for this format is $58 per person on the current official menu, but the specific dishes below are the ones I experienced during my July visit, not a promise of an unchanged menu.

    French Toast Soldiers

    I expected these to be an afterthought. When you’re visiting a restaurant known for fried chicken and caviar, French toast isn’t usually what excites you. I was wrong.

    The outside was beautifully crisp, while the inside stayed rich and custardy without becoming soggy. The vanilla anglaise added sweetness without overwhelming the dish. It wasn’t trying to become dessert; there was restraint to it. By the end of brunch, it had become one of my favorite dishes on the table. Sometimes the biggest surprise is the item you almost overlooked.

    Hash Brown & Salmon Rillettes

    If I had to choose the most underrated bite of brunch, this would be it. The hash brown was golden, thin, and perfectly crisp, with no grease or sogginess. Its satisfying crunch supported the smoked salmon rillettes without collapsing underneath them.

    The richness of the salmon and the crispness of the potato worked together beautifully. Simple food executed exceptionally well is often harder than complicated food. This was one of the clearest examples of that on the table.

    Shrimp Salad Lettuce Cups

    Every menu built around fried food needs something that resets your palate. The cold shrimp, bright citrus, and fresh lettuce provided exactly that contrast after several richer bites. The flavors were clean, and the dish gave the meal some balance. Not every memorable course needs to be the most indulgent one.

    Umma’s Kimbap

    One thing I appreciated throughout brunch was that COQODAQ never lost its Korean identity. Umma’s Kimbap belonged in the spread, adding another dimension to a meal that could easily have been defined only by fried chicken and expensive toppings.

    Crispy Chicken Croquettes

    By this point, the consistency of the frying had become impossible to miss. Whether it was the French toast, the hash brown, or these croquettes, every fried element arrived remarkably light and crisp. Nothing felt greasy or tasted as though it had spent too long in the fryer.

    The croquettes reinforced what I was beginning to realize: the famous dishes weren’t impressive merely because they involved expensive ingredients. The fundamentals were already in place. These were part of my visit; check the latest menu rather than assuming every starter will be identical.

    Chicken Consommé

    The smallest course on the table may have said the most about the kitchen. A clear chicken consommé doesn’t leave much room for error because every flavor is exposed. This was clean, comforting, and focused, a quiet reminder that technical cooking doesn’t always need an elaborate presentation.

    Before the fried chicken even arrived, I knew the Golden Nugget wasn’t carrying the restaurant. If the caviar and truffle disappeared tomorrow, there would still be an exceptionally capable kitchen behind the meal.

    The Main Event: Signature Fried Chicken

    Eventually, the dish the restaurant is built around arrived. By then, I’d seen enough to know the kitchen could cook. The question was whether the fried chicken itself would live up to the attention. The answer came with the first bite.

    During my visit, the Signature Fried Chicken offered a choice of two preparations from OG, Soy Sauce-Garlic, and Gochujang. Fortunately, I was able to try all three. What impressed me most was the consistency: every piece had the same light crust, juicy interior, and clean finish. Nothing felt greasy or overly breaded. The coating shattered before giving way to remarkably tender chicken.

    I’ve had fried chicken that was crisp, and I’ve had fried chicken that was juicy. Getting both at the same time is much harder. COQODAQ managed it. After several fried dishes, I still wanted the next bite rather than feeling weighed down by the coating.

    My Fried Chicken Ranking

    1. Soy Sauce-Garlic. This was the standout. The glaze added just enough sweetness to balance the savory flavors without masking the chicken itself. Every bite felt complete, and it quickly became the style I kept reaching for. If I were ordering again tomorrow, this would be my first choice.

    2. OG. Sometimes the simplest version tells you everything you need to know. Without a glaze competing for attention, the OG let the chicken and the precision of the fry shine. If you appreciate classic fried chicken, don’t overlook it.

    3. Gochujang. This brought the most heat and the boldest personality of the three. It was flavorful and well executed, but I reached for it less than the Soy Sauce-Garlic and the OG. That wasn’t a failure of the Gochujang; it was a reminder of how much I liked the other two.

    Then Came the Golden Nuggets

    I’ll admit it: this was the dish I came to try. A chicken nugget topped with caviar or truffle can sound like an idea designed to generate headlines. Then you taste it, and suddenly the combination makes sense.

    I tried the 18 Karat with ocean trout roe, the 24 Karat with Tsar Imperial Daurenki caviar, and the Black Gold with seasonal truffle. Each began with the same exceptionally good nugget. The crust was thin and crisp, the seasoning restrained, and the interior juicy. Strip away the toppings and you would still be left with one of the best chicken nuggets I’ve had.

    That was the surprise. The luxury ingredients enhanced the chicken rather than rescuing it. I could appreciate what each topping added because the foundation was already so strong.

    My Golden Nugget Ranking

    1. Black Gold with Seasonal Truffle. Without question, my favorite. The warmth of the nugget released the truffle aroma almost immediately, creating a bite that felt rich without becoming overwhelming. Everything worked together. I kept telling myself, “Just one more,” and then reaching for another. That’s usually a good sign.

    If I could make one request, I’d love to see the Black Gold Nugget on the menu at Bar Chimera during truffle season. Paired with one of their cocktails, I think it would make an exceptional bar snack. That’s my wish list, not an item I’m saying they serve.

    2. 24 Karat with Tsar Imperial Daurenki Caviar. The salinity of the caviar paired beautifully with the crisp chicken, while the Champagne brought everything into balance. This is probably the version most people associate with COQODAQ, and I understood why.

    3. 18 Karat with Ocean Trout Roe. Bright and playful, with a satisfying burst of texture and salinity. Compared with the depth of the truffle and the caviar pairing, it finished third for me. Still excellent, just competing against two particularly memorable bites.

    Champagne and The Egg: Give the Drinks Their Due

    Before I arrived, Champagne and fried chicken sounded like one more combination designed to attract attention. After brunch, I understood it. The acidity cut through the richness of the chicken, while the bubbles refreshed my palate between bites. The pairing made sense on taste, not just on a menu written to sound luxurious.

    But I wouldn’t stop at Champagne. I walked away equally impressed by the beverage side of the experience, particularly The Egg. When it arrived at the table, I actually laughed. At first glance, it looked almost like a perfectly cooked egg floating in the glass. It was exactly the kind of presentation that makes everyone stop and ask, “What is that?”

    Fortunately, the drink wasn’t relying on presentation alone. It was incredibly smooth, with a silky texture that felt rich without becoming heavy. The flavors were well balanced rather than unusual simply for the sake of being unusual. It started a conversation and then held my attention as a cocktail.

    The more I travel, the more I appreciate restaurants that treat drinks as more than an afterthought. Here, The Egg and the Champagne pairing felt connected to the meal. The playful presentation fit the food, and neither came at the expense of how good it tasted.

    The Missed Order That Showed Me the Hospitality

    People often judge restaurants by what happens when everything goes perfectly. I pay attention to what happens when something doesn’t. Halfway through brunch, our Golden Nugget order hadn’t arrived. Somewhere between the table and the kitchen, it had been missed. It happens; the important part is how a restaurant responds.

    The team immediately acknowledged the mistake without excuses or an awkward attempt to pretend everything was fine. They brought us double the order of Golden Nuggets and surprised us with two glasses of Champagne on the house. That was how they handled our particular visit, not something another guest should expect or request.

    The response told me more about COQODAQ than a flawless meal might have. I felt cared for, and the problem became a memorable example of hospitality rather than the thing that spoiled brunch.

    I also noticed members of the leadership team present in the dining room, greeting guests, supporting the staff, and watching service unfold. They weren’t detached from what was happening around them. After this visit and my later experience at Bar Chimera, I could recognize a shared attention to hospitality even though the places had their own personalities. A beautiful room and good ingredients matter, but so do the people making the experience work.

    My Verdict: I Would Go Back

    New York has no shortage of great restaurants, which makes the question “Would I come back?” useful. For COQODAQ, my answer is absolutely. It took the cooking seriously without making brunch feel stiff or self-important. Caviar on a chicken nugget and Champagne with fried chicken were fun because the food underneath the idea was so good.

    The Black Gold Nugget was my best bite, the French Toast Soldiers were the biggest surprise, and the Hash Brown & Salmon Rillettes deserved more attention than I expected to give them. Soy Sauce-Garlic would lead my next chicken order. I’d also want another Egg cocktail and Champagne with the chicken.

    The Golden English Muffin with Smoked Salmon and Black Truffle was on my next-visit wish list. I haven’t reviewed it here because it wasn’t one of the dishes I described trying; I would check whether it is available before counting on it.

    This can become a splurge once you add Golden Nuggets and drinks. The $58 brunch format is a starting point, not the price of recreating every part of my visit. For me, the quality of the food, the comfortable pacing, the drinks, and the way the team looked after us justified the experience. The complimentary Champagne and extra nuggets were part of what happened that day, and they belong in an honest account of it.

    Richard’s Rating

    5.0 / 5 — my rating of this brunch visit.

    • Food: ★★★★★ Every dish felt intentional, from the smallest amuse-bouche to the signature fried chicken. The quality of the ingredients and precision of the execution were evident throughout the meal.
    • Creativity: ★★★★★ Luxury and comfort food rarely coexist this naturally. COQODAQ manages to make playful ideas feel thoughtful rather than gimmicky.
    • Cocktails: ★★★★★ The Egg Cocktail alone is worth ordering, and the beverage program complements the food instead of competing with it.
    • Service: ★★★★★ Professional, attentive, and polished. More importantly, when a mistake occurred, the team handled it with grace, generosity, and genuine hospitality.
    • Atmosphere: ★★★★★ Elegant without being intimidating. Refined, energetic, and comfortable enough to encourage a long brunch rather than a quick meal.
    • Value: ★★★★★ At first glance, brunch may seem like a splurge. After experiencing the quality of the food, drinks, service, and hospitality, it feels entirely justified.

    Plan Your COQODAQ Brunch

    COQODAQ is at 12 East 22nd Street in Flatiron. As checked on October 27, 2026, its official site lists weekend daytime service from 11:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. Book through the restaurant’s official Resy link, and confirm the service time and menu for your date.

    If your preferred time is unavailable, try Resy Notify for times you can genuinely make and check again as the date approaches. Cancellations can happen, but neither an alert nor a walk-in guarantees a table. I wouldn’t build an entire New York itinerary around brunch until the reservation is confirmed.

    The restaurant lists 646-490-5099 for its reservations team and reservation@coqodaq.com for outside calling hours or busy phone lines. Check the official site for the latest arrangements rather than relying on an old reservation tip.

    Have a New York restaurant I should try next? Send it to me on Instagram. I’m always interested in a meal worth planning around, whether it involves caviar or something much simpler.

  • Why Evvai Is My Favorite Restaurant in the World

    Why Evvai Is My Favorite Restaurant in the World

    Collage featuring Evvai, the three Michelin-starred restaurant in São Paulo, showcasing the restaurant entrance, tasting menu, signature dishes, collectible comic-style course cards, cocktails, the open kitchen, and Richard Jarocki branding.

    People often ask me what my favorite restaurant in the world is. Considering how much I travel for food, it’s a fair question. I’ve been fortunate enough to dine at Michelin-starred restaurants, experience many of the World’s 50 Best Restaurants, and eat my way through some of the greatest culinary destinations on earth.

    My answer never changes: Evvai in São Paulo.

    This restaurant is one of the biggest reasons I look forward to returning to the city. The food matters, of course. But so do the explanations, the illustrated course cards I still keep, the disciplined kitchen, and the fact that a meal this carefully put together can still be so much fun.

    Entrance sign at Evvai, a three-Michelin-starred restaurant in São Paulo, Brazil
    Evvai in São Paulo. It is one of the biggest reasons I look forward to returning to the city.
    Caviar on a red-and-white striped centerpiece surrounded by colorful details at Evvai in São Paulo
    A caviar-topped course from my November 2025 meal at Evvai.

    More Than Italian. More Than Brazilian.

    Chef Luiz Filipe Souza describes Evvai’s cuisine as Oriundi, a philosophy inspired by the Italian immigrants who helped shape Brazil’s culinary identity.

    It’s not Italian. It’s not Brazilian. It’s both.

    Throughout the tasting menu, classic Italian techniques meet ingredients native to Brazil. Jambu, tucupi, cupuaçu, priprioca, native honeys, heart of palm, Amazonian fish, and regional fruits become the foundation for dishes that feel both familiar and completely new.

    Nothing is included simply because it’s unusual. Every ingredient has a purpose. Every course tells a story.

    Selection of artistic opening bites served during the tasting menu at Evvai São Paulo
    Opening bites from an earlier Evvai tasting menu.
    Bread selection beside a wooden serving box at Evvai in São Paulo
    Bread service during my November 2025 tasting menu.

    A Menu That Never Stops Evolving

    One of the reasons I continue returning is because no two meals have ever been alike.

    Chef Luiz isn’t interested in creating a menu that stays the same year after year. Every visit brings new ideas, new ingredients, and new interpretations while remaining unmistakably Evvai.

    I’ve compared the menus and collectible cards from each visit, and it’s remarkable how much they evolve.

    One visit introduced me to King Crab with fresh coconut and caviar, White Moqueca with squid and heart of palm, Duck Tortellini with eel and tucupi, Wild Boar with savage orange, Tongue with oxtail and priprioca, and the unforgettable Popcorn and Ice Cream dessert.

    Another visit featured Bluefin Tuna with wagyu bresaola, Cod Tortellini, Fish of the Day with moqueca, Lamb with fregola, Green Corn with Oscietra caviar, Rebel Tiramisu, and a choice between Xinxim Chicken or Japanese A5 Wagyu.

    The philosophy never changes. The creativity never stops. Every return feels like discovering Evvai all over again.

    Evvai ORI25.2 tasting menu featuring Brazilian seafood, pasta, wild boar and desserts
    The ORI25.2 menu from a previous visit. This is a keepsake, not the current menu.
    Evvai OR24.2 tasting menu featuring Brazilian ingredients, seafood, pasta and Wagyu
    The OR24.2 menu from another visit, showing how much the experience changes.

    Every Dish Has a Personality

    I’ve had tasting menus where every course was technically perfect, yet by the end of the evening I struggled to remember what I had actually eaten.

    That has never happened at Evvai.

    The King Crab with fresh coconut, delicately topped with caviar, perfectly balanced sweetness, richness, and salinity while proving that elegance doesn’t have to be complicated.

    The White Moqueca challenged everything I thought I knew about one of Brazil’s most iconic dishes. By removing its vibrant colors, Chef Luiz created something visually unexpected while preserving every bit of the soul and flavor that makes moqueca so beloved.

    The Duck Tortellini with eel and tucupi remains one of the most memorable pasta courses I’ve ever eaten.

    One of my favorite surprises was a playful green corn ice cream cone topped with Oscietra caviar. At first glance, it makes you smile. Then you taste it. Sweet corn and luxurious caviar shouldn’t work together as well as they do, yet somehow the combination feels completely natural. It’s whimsical, technically brilliant, and unmistakably Evvai.

    Golden scallop crisp with greens at Evvai in São Paulo.
    A scallop crisp served with greens during my tasting menu at Evvai.
     Green course in a white bowl with a separate small plate of greens at Evvai in São Paulo
    A green tasting-menu course from my November 2025 visit.

    The scallop crisp pictured here is another example of how much there is to look at during the meal. The crisp itself is scallop-based, rather than simply a garnish beside a scallop.

    Small plated savory course with orange sauce in a wide white bowl at Evvai in São Paulo
    A savory course with orange sauce, photographed during my November 2025 meal.
    Rectangular plated course in dark sauce with small pale garnishes at Evvai in São Paulo
    A plated course with dark sauce from my November 2025 meal.

    Desserts That Remember to Have Fun

    Popcorn and ice cream doesn’t sound like something you’d expect from one of the world’s best restaurants. Until it arrives.

    Finished with popping candy, every bite combines creamy sweetness, buttery popcorn, and the crackling sensation of Pop Rocks. It’s nostalgic, interactive, and impossible not to smile while eating it.

    That perfectly sums up my experience. Now recognized with three Michelin stars. World-class technique. Yet it never forgets that dining should be fun.

    Pop Rocks ice cream bar on a stick, served on a white plate at Evvai.
    The Pop Rocks ice cream bar during my tasting menu at Evvai.
    Round decorated dessert with a thin square garnish at Evvai in São Paulo
    A decorated dessert from my November 2025 tasting menu.

    The frozen dessert pictured above is the Pop Rocks ice cream bar. That playful presentation belongs in this story just as much as the pasta, the caviar, and the technique. It is part of why I remember the experience so clearly.

    Illustrated card introducing the popcorn ice cream dessert at Evvai São Paulo
    “Popcorn… Ice Cream… Sinners…”: even dessert has its own story.
    Pop-art Oriundi 25.2 tasting-menu artwork displayed at Evvai São Paulo
    Oriundi 25.2 artwork: the visual storytelling begins before the first course.

    Every Course Tells a Story

    Every course begins before the plate ever reaches your table.

    The service team introduces each dish, explaining the ingredients, techniques, and inspiration behind Chef Luiz Filipe Souza’s vision. Their knowledge is remarkable, and they present every course with the same care and precision that went into creating it.

    Then the storytelling continues.

    Throughout the meal, you’re handed beautifully designed collectible cards inspired by vintage comic books and pop art. Each card corresponds to one of the courses you’ve just experienced.

    Some make you laugh before you’ve even taken the first bite.

    A halo-wearing crab proclaims “Holy Crab!”

    A revolver loaded with pasta reads “Pasta La Vista, Baby…”

    A duck relaxing in tucupi jokes, “Like a Hot Tub After a Busy Day…”

    Others challenge your expectations with “No Tongue, Really?!”, “Popcorn… Ice Cream… Sinners…”, and “Give Me That Hand!”

    Then you flip the card over.

    Instead of simply listing ingredients, Chef Luiz explains the thought process behind the dish, the techniques used, and the inspiration behind its creation.

    It’s one of the most thoughtful touches I’ve experienced in any restaurant. I still have every single card from every visit to Evvai. They’re more than souvenirs. They’re a collection of memories.

    Every time I flip through them, I remember not only the dish itself, but the conversations, the presentation, and exactly how I felt experiencing it.

    Most restaurants leave you with photographs. Evvai also gives me something I can hold onto and revisit long after dinner.

    Illustrated “Holy Crab” tasting-menu card featuring a red crab at Evvai São Paulo
    “Holy Crab!”: one of the cards I kept from the meal.
    Pop-art “Pasta La Vista, Baby” tasting-menu card presented at Evvai São Paulo
    “Pasta La Vista, Baby…”: pasta with a sense of humor.
    Illustrated duck and tucupi tasting-menu card presented at Evvai São Paulo
    A duck relaxing in tucupi: “Like a Hot Tub After a Busy Day…”
    Illustrated card for “The Elegant Gentleman, Dressed in White” moqueca course at Evvai São Paulo
    “The Elegant Gentleman, Dressed in White”: the illustrated introduction to white moqueca.
    Menu card for Evvai’s white moqueca with fish, squid and heart of palm
    Turn the card over and the explanation continues: white moqueca with fish, squid and heart of palm.
    Pop-art “No Tongue, Really?” tasting-menu card presented at Evvai São Paulo
    “No Tongue, Really?”: Evvai does not take its storytelling too seriously.
    Illustrated Savage Orange tasting-menu card presented at Evvai São Paulo
    The “Savage Orange” course card.
    Illustrated Essence No. 5 presentation card from the tasting menu at Evvai São Paulo
    The illustrated Essence No. 5 card.
    Pop-art “Give Me That Hand” tasting-menu card presented at Evvai São Paulo
    The “Give Me That Hand” illustrated card.

    Fine Dining Without the Pretension

    At some fine-dining restaurants, the formality can take over the evening. The room becomes silent. Guests whisper. Everyone seems afraid of making too much noise. While I appreciate that level of refinement, it can sometimes feel more like attending a ceremony than enjoying dinner.

    Evvai feels alive. Everything about the restaurant is polished, professional, and worthy of three Michelin stars. Yet it never feels intimidating. Guests laugh. Servers joke with the tables. Courses surprise you. The playful comic-book cards become conversation starters.

    An ice cream cone topped with caviar appears. A dessert crackles with Pop Rocks. The atmosphere is relaxed without ever sacrificing professionalism.

    That balance is incredibly difficult to achieve, and I honestly can’t think of another Michelin-starred restaurant that does it quite the same way.

    Chef Luiz Filipe Souza’s Leadership

    I believe that atmosphere starts with Chef Luiz Filipe Souza.

    His creativity is obvious in every dish, but what impressed me just as much was the culture he’s built inside the restaurant.

    One of my favorite moments at Evvai doesn’t happen at the table. It happens in the kitchen. Throughout service you’ll hear Chef Luiz, or whoever is leading the brigade that evening,calling commands. Instantly, the kitchen responds together with a loud, unified:

    “YES, CHEF!”

    It’s authentic. It’s disciplined. It’s organized. You can hear the respect the team has for one another and the pride they take in their craft. That passion extends beyond Chef Luiz himself.

    The pastry program is led by Bianca Mirabili, whose creativity perfectly complements the rest of the tasting menu. In 2025, she was recognized as Latin America’s Best Pastry Chef, an honor that feels completely deserved after experiencing her work.

    Together, they have built something incredibly special.

    The kitchen’s call-and-response has a military precision to it, but the experience at the table stays warm. The team explains what is arriving and why it matters. That combination of discipline and personality is a big part of what makes Evvai feel different to me.

    More Than Just a Restaurant

    Over time, Evvai has become much more than my favorite restaurant. It’s become one of those rare places that feels familiar every time I walk through the door.

    I make restaurant reservations all over the world whenever I think there’s even the slightest chance I can get away. Sometimes work wins, plans change, and I end up cancelling.

    But Evvai is different.

    When I started planning my return to São Paulo for Formula 1 in November 2026, there was one reservation I refused to leave to chance.

    Evvai.

    In fact, I confirmed my dinner reservation before I even purchased my Formula 1 ticket. That probably tells you everything you need to know. If Formula 1 were cancelled tomorrow…

    I’d still make the trip.

    That’s the highest compliment I can give any restaurant. The service is impeccable. The food is extraordinary. The storytelling is unlike anything I’ve experienced anywhere else. Most importantly, despite now standing among the very best restaurants in the world, it has never lost its personality.

    It remains warm. It remains welcoming. It remains creative. It remains fun.

    I’ve traveled thousands of miles chasing unforgettable meals and have been fortunate enough to experience some of the finest restaurants on the planet.

    Only one has ever made me say, without hesitation, that I’d book a flight just for dinner.

    That restaurant is Evvai.

    Planning Your Own Evvai Dinner

    The menus photographed here are from my previous visits, and that distinction matters. Part of the reason I return is that the cooking keeps changing. Go for the experience rather than expecting every dish in these photographs to appear in exactly the same form.

    Start with the restaurant’s official website for the current offering and reservation process. If you have dietary restrictions or a particular question about the meal, confirm it directly before booking.

    For more of my firsthand restaurant stories, explore Food & Drink. If you are building a trip around a meal, my travel page is a place to keep exploring. And if you have eaten at Evvai, I would love to hear which course stayed with you.