Blizzard 2013

"They" are calling for snow in the northeast.  New England is supposed to get pummeled.  Philly may get 12 inches...or nothing.  I remember as a kid how they would predict the weather and get it wrong most times.  It is usually spot on now a days.  Technology is the reason, I assume.

Anywho, when I start to prepare for the shut in, I start thinking about two things.  1.) What am I going to cook all weekend, while we tuck inside and 2.) I wish I were somewhere warm.  I have already decided that I will make short ribs and polenta and I wish I were in Brazil.  Rio to be exact.  I love Rio. A few years back, Manny had the opportunity to go to Brazil and play with the youth academy of the professional Brazilian soccer team, Fluminese.  It was incredible.  He lived with the team on their secluded campus and we camped out in Rio, on the beach.  It was July, but this was their winter.  The temps were in the 80s and it was incredible.  We have a very good friend who's wife is Brazilian.  She's lovely, but I always had trouble reading her.  After a day in Rio, I got her.  She was simply incredibly laid back and warm, not simply quiet and shy.  Brazilians are amazing.  The country is amazing.  The food is absolutely amazing. Amazing.

I could tell you a million stories, but the best was when I accidentally led my entire family into the favelas.  It was one of our first nights.  I had been told by a friend to go directly to one of those churrascarias.  She had recommended Porcao.  I did not have a proper map and took the one from the hotel and determined we could walk there.  Our hotel sat on the edge of Copacabana Beach & Ipanema Beach.  Porcao was in walking distance.  It was a chaotic walk and I determined the path.  As I led my family past the group of teens smoking pot and took the long steps up the hill, you think I would have thought twice.  Nope.  Arriving at the top of the stairs was a different world.  Motorcycles whizzed by, music poured from open windows, small kids ran down the street without shoes or shirts and stray dogs were running about.  Large groups of young men catcalled.  This was not a safe or welcoming place. John leaned in and told me that this was not the way to the restaurant.  I told him that I think we can walk to the end of the block and walk back down the steps.  We reached the end of the block and there were no steps.  A man approached and started barking at us in Portuguese.  We did not speak and just walked quickly away.  John whispered, "Let's retrace and go back."  Michaela grabbed my hand and expressed fear.  I told her not to talk and to relax.  We walked back down and arrived at our restaurant in a few minutes.  All was good.

Rio is like any large city.  Good parts and bad.  The topography is breathtaking.  It is a truly special place.  Brazilians are warm and friendly and their food is spectacular. I love it there and cannot wait to return.  Every day John insisted that we go to a juice bar.  The best one in Rio is Polis Sucos.  We visited at least twice a day.  For juice or a sandwich.  It is exceptional.  You find fruit there that you cannot find here.  My favorite was called Caju.  They translated it to Cashew.  It might have been the fruit that yields cashews.  Not sure and I have never been able to confirm this.  It tastes like if an apple and a grape had a baby.  Truly delicious.

So if you are holed up due to the weather, think of Brazil.  Eating feijoada and acai smoothies.  Think of the Cristo and playing on Ipanema Beach.  Go out and buy a bottle of Leblon Cachaca. Think of the ice cold beer and the gorgeous graffiti.  Have an ice cold Brahma Beer.  Cheers!