A hardwood-charcoal fire crackles in a big ventilated steel fireplace, over which several spits of meat are turned by a guy who, if you don't speak Portuguese, can pretty much tell you which meat is which, and after that it's all pointing. As soon as you show up with your plate, he'll pull a spit off the fire and shave off as much as you want with a foot-long carving knife. The meat is basted with brine, and the result is a wonderful, moist, fire-roasted saltiness. Have two chicken hearts. Hey, have a dozen.
Drinks here are self-serve, out of a fridge.
The sweetest deals here, in the literal sense, are the desserts, most of which look like treats someone's grandmother made for a bake sale. There are plastic containers of rice pudding. Nothing was bad. I had coconut in my teeth for hours afterward, but believe me, I didn't care.