Its decor is modern-chic; the minimal fireplaces suspended over the bar let you know that this is no place for elastic pants. Which is unfortunate, because I can think of no place better conceived for their use. For those who aren’t familiar, the concept of a Brazilian steakhouse is simple: all-you-can-eat meat of overwhelming variety ($49.50), paraded among the tables on spits and served whenever you communicate “yes, please” by turning your token orange-side-up. At some point (well before you’ve stopped eating), you will continue to do this despite the fact that you are no longer hungry, merely enticed by a whiff of some roast or fillet you’ve yet to try.
Chima boasts no less than 15 different meats, so it’s natural for the eyes to be bigger than the stomach. The trick is to choose wisely. Ironically, we found it was the non-bovine meats that best asserted their flavors. Perhaps the favorite at our table was pork ribs, which were drizzled with a sweet, tangy sauce that played well on the tender meat without overpowering it. The lamb pleased merely by virtue of its quality; lamb often airs on the dry side, but Chima’s was perfectly cooked and moist. The fish (both salmon and the swordfish) were similarly impressive. Steak lovers may pause with incredulity, but each piece of fresh, thick fillet was accompanied by either caper or passionfruit sauce, both of which were outstanding. I usually avoid capers, yet I loved the buttery herbal bite of the sauce. The passionfruit brought a welcome sweet accent to the fish.
Though meat is certainly the forte, Chima also offers an impressively diverse salad bar. Diners can choose from lettuces, various vegetable and herbal dishes, and even shrimp, calamari and cured meats and cheeses. That said, the Caesar salad was the only offering especially worthy of note; it was superbly seasoned, and the lettuce was pleasingly crunchy. We were less enamored of the corn mousse, which resembled mayonnaise on the plate and the tongue and the zucchini and squash, which only tasted like pepper. The shrimp salad, sadly, had no flavor at all.
Ultimately, though Chima promises a carnivore’s delight, it’s questionable if it’s worth the whopping $50.
Chima Brazilian Steakhouse
1901 John F Kennedy Blvd.
(215) 525-3233
Don’t miss: The pork ribs
Skip: The shrimp salad
