Tijolada, Thomas Troisgros a pelo
Tijolada, Thomas Troisgros tells me, besides meaning a brick, “also applies to speaking the truth to someone's face, without mincing words, and that, metaphorically, is what I propose in my botequim.” Troisgros, in the same vein of unpretentious sincerity, clarifies that “it never occurred to me to sophisticate or reinvent tavern cuisine; I've simply taken what I like most about botecos (taverns)
No one would guess that this practically unmarked corner, with its packed terrace, is the bar arm of one of the best chefs in Rio de Janeiro and all of Brazil. If you don't know the street number, you'll walk right past it. Because Tijolada has neither design nor any references to its famous owner; the only thing that catches your eye on its small, unassuming facade (the kitchen is in an adjacent interior space) is the 'puppy TV' (a local term for rotisserie chicken machines, given the attraction they have for dogs), the restaurant's unique appeal, both visually and gastronomically.
It's not easy, even with the connections of Thomas and his wife, Diana Litewski (a partner in the establishment), to get a table on this sunny midday in Rio de Janeiro. In the end, we manage by negotiating amicably with another group of customers and settle into two small tables facing the flow of traffic on Ipanema, under the crowded porch.
Thomas, tijolada in hand (cocktail of cachaça, sugar, angostura and Galician lemon), throws some olives onto the table —“I love prepared olives, like in Spain”— enlivened with chimichurri and a plate of pickled jiló (a type of bitter eggplant of African origin) that takes away all the nonsense.
The petiscos (tapas) keep popping up on the table: empanadas—filled with semi-hard cheese from Minas Gerais and shrimp—and quiche, a very popular dish in the city. And the bolovo, as they call the Scottish egg in Brazil, a boiled egg (Thomas achieves a virtuoso, syrupy texture) wrapped in ground meat and coated in breadcrumbs.
The cod fritter (croquette), ubiquitous in Rio de Janeiro's botecos (bars), is delicate and creamy, yet full of its essential, unmasked flavor. And the torreznos (fried pork belly), another classic, are made from tuna belly, deliciously crispy and decadent.
The first course is a dithyramb to culinary pornography: cupim (the hump of the zebu), a meat with extravagant fat marbling that melts in the mouth, accompanied by onions. The glory of simplicity.
The roast chicken is the most anticipated finale. Free-range chickens, weighing less than 1.5 kilos, marinated in dried herbs, onion, and garlic, are slowly roasted on a rotating spit and, once on the table, boast of juiciness, tenderness, and flavor. Served with French fries, cornmeal, and okra vinaigrette.
These chickens, which are a staple on every table around, are destined for delivery. “Yes; this is the plan for September. Right now, I'm making some deliveries myself to test times, temperatures, etc.,” Thomas explains.
Tijolada is another face of Thomas Troisgros, who continues to rejoice both in his award-winning L'Oseille (where he changed the concept of 'fine dining' to that of 'fun dining', a name that, incidentally, has become a hit in Rio) — and with which he will attend San Sebastian Gastronomika this coming October, where Rio de Janeiro will be the guest city — as well as in his other establishments.
“No fun, no deal.”