My partner and I often take walks in the evening and some months ago we saw that a new restaurant had opened a few blocks from our home. Under the name of the restaurant, in elegant script, were the words “A Brazilian Steakhouse.” The architecture was modern. Large, plate glass windows offered a view of the bar and beyond that we could see white tablecloths under atmospheric low lighting. It looked inviting, but expensive. We determined to keep it in mind for a special occasion, most likely my birthday which was the next “special occasion” day on the calendar.

Not long after, Reed spent a week in firearms instructor training and got to be buddies with one of the guys there. This was a new officer in the department who Reed hadn’t known well before that week. I guess spending five consecutive days in the summer heat of California’s inland empire sending thousands of rounds down range is some sort of bonding experience. In any case, by the end of the week, Reed was talking about Kevin and proposing that we set up a time to meet Kevin and his girlfriend for dinner. We tossed around the idea of a couple of Italian places but my partner and Kevin were taking the lead on planning. I was surprised when reservations were set up at the (elegantly scripted) “A Brazilian Steakhouse” but didn’t think much of it beyond it being a new experience and my being mildly interested in meeting new people.

I figured Kevin and Reed would engage in shop talk. I hoped Kevin’s girlfriend would prove to be interesting or I’d be in for a night of tedious conversation. The two of us walked to the restaurant and, arriving early, ordered cocktails at the bar. A pleasant din, and scrumptious odors, wafted from the dining room in the rear. Someone was celebrating a birthday and the wait staff gathered to sing a birthday song. We heard another celebration as we waited. And in quick succession, another. There was a message here, but I was too pre-occupied to decipher it.

Kevin and Amy blew into the restaurant in short order and we were immediately shown to our seats. The host asked if any of us had been there before. None of us had and he informed us that they do a rodízio service and that all the meat is prepared churrasco style. Then he pointed to a large buffet table for side dishes, handed us menus and departed. I opened the menu. There were no prices listed.

Another “Happy Birthday” variation started somewhere and that message that had been trying to break through my subconscious back in the bar arrived full force. This meal was going to be f’ing expensive. As in budget blowing, take out a loan, expensive. This was the sort of place you only go for a very special occasion like turning 50 or retirement or a 25 year wedding anniversary. Maybe not the best choice for a first-time get together with another couple.

I try to catch Reed’s eye to see what he’s thinking but his head is bent over the menu. As are Kevin’s and Amy’s. Mentally I shrug. Even with a steep tab, I knew we could work this into the budget. Neither Kevin nor Amy said anything so I figured, I wasn’t going to sweat the price whatever it may be. Go all in and enjoy the experience. And it was an experience.

Churrasco, I learned, is a style of barbecue where the meat is cooked on large skewers. Not single portion size skewers – enough meat to feed a couple families on a single skewer. The wait staff circulates the dining room with these skewers of meat. They present it at your table and if you want some, they slice bite size pieces on to your plate. This was the rodizio service. They come by with much more than just steak. Duck, lamb, pork, sausage, chicken were all circulating. Then there were the more exotic offerings. I ate a chicken heart. It was so good I had another when the meat waiter came back around with the skewered hearts. It’s an all you can eat affair and the side dishes from the buffet were delicious.

The meal was a gastronomical adventure. The dining experience was, in itself, entertaining with the constantly circulating meat and the party celebrations at the other tables. Amy and Kevin both were good company. Amy, particularly, could tell a funny story. A couple of them were at Kevin’s expense but not in a mean or belittling way. He was just as eager to get to the punch line so that he could share his side of the tale. It was a good night but yes, the bill was enough to make you do that squint/widening thing with your eyes as if that will change the number on the paper. Except for that initial cocktail at the bar, none of us ordered alcohol and even so the final tab – just for me and Reed – was half again over what our typical “special occasion” dining experiences run.

Discussing it later, we decided that that meal would count as my birthday dinner. (We typically don’t buy gifts for one another on our birthdays; we go out to a nice restaurant instead.) That plan sort of squared it with our budget and the fact that I traveled for half of July and ate on the company’s dime pretty much covered the rest. I’m guessing Kevin and Amy had a good enough time because we’ve gotten together with them again (we cooked – they brought the beer) so all in all, the experience was positive.

Alas, it’s also why I am sitting here on my birthday reminiscing about a meal I ate nearly 8 weeks ago and contemplating heating up a frozen pizza for dinner. Though I am at the office late tonight, waiting to connect with my Tokyo counterpart before leaving, so I may just grab a burrito on my way home.