Tag: Evvai

  • 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.

  • Filet Mignon Toast Recipe with Mushroom Duxelles and Black Garlic Aioli (Evvai-Inspired)

    Filet Mignon Toast Recipe with Mushroom Duxelles and Black Garlic Aioli (Evvai-Inspired)

    James Bond-inspired featured image for Evvai-inspired Filet Mignon Toast Recipe with mushroom duxelles and black garlic aioli by Richard Jarocki.

    My Filet Mignon Toast Recipe

    There are meals you enjoy, and then there are meals that follow you home.

    When I dined at Evvai in São Paulo, one dish stayed in my mind long after the evening ended: an exceptionally balanced filet mignon toast. It was refined without feeling needlessly complicated, allowing the quality of the ingredients to speak for itself.

    This is not Evvai’s recipe, nor is it intended to recreate what Chef Luiz Filipe Souza serves. It is my interpretation of that memorable experience, adapted for my own kitchen with medium-rare filet mignon, concentrated mushroom duxelles, black garlic aioli and crisp sourdough.

    The result is an elevated steak appetizer that feels worthy of a special dinner but remains approachable enough to prepare at home.

    Recipe Details Filet Mignon Toast Recipe

    Prep time: 20 minutes
    Cook time: 30 minutes
    Resting time: 10 minutes
    Total time: 1 hour
    Yield: 4 appetizer toasts
    Course: Appetizer
    Cuisine: Brazilian-inspired

    Ingredients

    Filet Mignon

    1 center-cut filet mignon, approximately 8–10 ounces

    1 teaspoon kosher salt, or to taste

    ½ teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper

    1 tablespoon neutral high-heat cooking oil

    2 tablespoons unsalted butter

    2 garlic cloves, lightly crushed

    2 sprigs fresh thyme

    Mushroom Duxelles

    12 ounces cremini, shiitake or mixed wild mushrooms

    2 shallots, finely minced

    2 garlic cloves, minced

    2 tablespoons unsalted butter

    1 teaspoon olive oil

    2 tablespoons dry white wine, optional

    1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves

    Kosher salt, to taste

    Freshly cracked black pepper, to taste

    Black Garlic Aioli

    ½ cup Kewpie Japanese mayonnaise

    4 black garlic cloves

    1 teaspoon Dijon mustard

    1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice

    Pinch of kosher salt

    Toast

    4 thick slices sourdough bread

    1 tablespoon olive oil

    1 tablespoon unsalted butter

    Garnish

    1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh chives

    Microgreens

    Flaky sea salt

    Freshly cracked black pepper

    Shaved black truffle, optional

    Instructions

    Prepare the Mushroom Duxelles

    Finely chop the mushrooms by hand or pulse them carefully in a food processor until they resemble coarse crumbs. Do not process them into a paste.

    Heat the butter and olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat.

    Add the shallots and cook for 2–3 minutes, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent.

    Add the chopped mushrooms and thyme. Season lightly with salt and pepper.

    The mushrooms will release a substantial amount of liquid as they cook. Continue cooking for approximately 15–20 minutes, stirring occasionally, until nearly all the moisture has evaporated.

    The mixture should become dark, concentrated and almost pâté-like. It should be spreadable rather than loose or watery.

    If using white wine, add it after the mushrooms have begun to brown. Continue cooking until the wine has completely reduced.

    Add the minced garlic during the final minute of cooking and stir constantly to prevent it from burning.

    Taste and adjust the seasoning. Remove the skillet from the heat and keep the duxelles warm.

    Make the Black Garlic Aioli

    Add the mayonnaise, black garlic, Dijon mustard and lemon juice to a small food processor or blender.

    Blend until completely smooth and evenly combined.

    Taste and season lightly with salt. Refrigerate the aioli until you are ready to assemble the toasts.

    The black garlic should provide a subtle sweetness and deep savory flavor without overpowering the filet mignon.

    Cook the Filet Mignon

    Remove the filet mignon from the refrigerator approximately 20–30 minutes before cooking.

    Pat the meat dry with paper towels, then season generously with kosher salt and freshly cracked black pepper.

    Heat a cast-iron skillet over high heat until very hot. Add the neutral cooking oil.

    Place the filet in the pan and sear it for approximately 2–3 minutes without moving it. Flip and sear the second side for another 2–3 minutes.

    Reduce the heat slightly, then add the butter, crushed garlic and thyme.

    As the butter melts, tilt the pan carefully and use a spoon to baste the filet continuously with the foaming herb butter.

    Continue cooking until the center reaches approximately 125–130°F for medium-rare. The temperature will rise slightly while the meat rests.

    Transfer the filet to a cutting board and allow it to rest for 10 minutes before slicing. Resting is essential because it allows the juices to redistribute throughout the meat.

    Slice the filet thinly against the grain immediately before assembling the toasts.

    Toast the Sourdough

    Heat the olive oil and butter in a clean skillet over medium heat.

    Add the sourdough slices and toast until deeply golden and crisp on both sides.

    The bread needs enough structure to support the aioli, mushroom duxelles and sliced filet without becoming soggy.

    Transfer the toasted sourdough to a cutting board. If the slices are large, trim or cut them into appetizer-sized pieces.

    Assemble the Filet Mignon Toasts

    Spread a generous layer of black garlic aioli over each piece of toasted sourdough.

    Add a layer of warm mushroom duxelles.

    Arrange several thin slices of medium-rare filet mignon over the mushrooms.

    Finish each toast with chopped chives, a small amount of flaky sea salt and freshly cracked black pepper.

    Add microgreens for freshness and color.

    For a more luxurious finish, shave a small amount of fresh black truffle over the top immediately before serving.

    Serve the toasts while the mushrooms and filet are still warm and the sourdough remains crisp.

    Tips for the Best Filet Mignon Toasts

    Cook the Mushrooms Until They Are Nearly Dry

    The most important part of mushroom duxelles is patience. If too much liquid remains, the mushrooms will make the toast soggy and dilute the flavor.

    Continue cooking until the mixture is deeply concentrated and spreadable.

    Don’t Overcook the Filet

    Because the beef is sliced thinly and placed over warm mushrooms, medium-rare works particularly well. Use an instant-read thermometer rather than relying only on cooking time.

    Let the Filet Rest

    Cutting the meat too soon will cause its juices to run onto the cutting board instead of remaining inside the filet. Give it the full 10 minutes.

    Use Thick, Sturdy Bread

    Thin sandwich bread will not support the toppings. A thick-cut sourdough provides the necessary structure, flavor and contrast.

    Assemble Immediately Before Serving

    The individual components can be prepared in advance, but the toasts should be assembled shortly before serving so the bread stays crisp.

    Make-Ahead Instructions

    The mushroom duxelles can be prepared up to two days in advance and stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator. Reheat it gently in a skillet before assembling the toasts.

    The black garlic aioli can also be made one or two days ahead and refrigerated in a sealed container.

    For the best texture and flavor, cook the filet and toast the sourdough shortly before serving.

    Notes from Rich

    This recipe reminds me why I love to travel. Sometimes a city changes the way you think. Sometimes it is a conversation with a chef. Other times, it is a single bite that stays with you long after you return home.

    These filet mignon toasts were inspired by an unforgettable meal at Evvai in São Paulo, but they are not an attempt to duplicate Chef Luiz Filipe Souza’s original dish. This version developed naturally in my own kitchen, using techniques and flavors that made sense to me.

    The mushroom duxelles is what brings everything together. It adds depth and turns what could simply be steak on toast into a composed appetizer. The black garlic aioli contributes sweetness, acidity and umami, while the sourdough provides the texture needed to support the beef.

    It is not Evvai’s recipe.

    It is a dish inspired by the experience of dining there—and by the idea that one memorable bite can follow you home.

    Follow My Instagram

    Filet mignon toast recipe with mushroom duxelles, black garlic aioli and microgreens
    Evvai-inspired filet mignon toast recipe layered with mushroom duxelles, black garlic aioli and fresh microgreens.
  • 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.