Brazil: Sabor e Luta

Brazil, the second most populated country in the Western Hemisphere, pulses with diversity; from bossa nova rhythms and sun-drenched beaches to the vast Amazon and Pantanal wetlands. Today, it boasts the world’s tenth-largest economy. Like the United States surpassing Britain, Brazil eclipsed its colonial parent, Portugal, to become a global giant. Yet this rise was forged through a grueling gauntlet, with the working class, Afro-Brazilians, indigenous communities, and immigrants as its unyielding backbone.

The road to today’s Brazil was paved with battles. Winning independence from Portugal in 1822 through a royal family feud to form the Brazilian Empire, the working class toiled against the late abolition of slavery in 1888, cast off the chains of monarchy, and toppled a military dictatorship that gripped the nation until 1985.

Indigenous communities fought for their ancestral lands, joining workers in demanding their share of the prosperity they built. Behind every strike, every march, every hard-won victory, there was a pot simmering, a frying pan sizzling, an oven baking, or a churrasco grill blazing, serving up the food that fueled their struggles.

Today, we dive into the struggles that shaped Brazil into a giant. We scoop into Feijão Tropeiro, the drovers’ dish that crisscrossed colonial Brazil during the gold rush, a humble staple that nourished the backbone of rebellion in the hills of Minas Gerais, where Brazil's first independence movement took root. We explore feijoada, the black bean and meat stew born from slave kitchens, a national dish tied to the fight for freedom. We taste Pão de Queijo, cheesy puffs from Minas Gerais, a symbol of workers flexing new labor rights under Vargas’s controversial rule. We crunch into coxinha, fried chicken croquettes that sustained the protests that ended decades of dictatorship. And we fire up the churrasco for picanha steak, reclaimed by landless workers who fed the nation but demanded their own share.

Get the charcoal grill fired up and get ready to get that sear! We are going to dive into Brazil’s struggles and the foods that flavored them.

Feijão Tropeiro: Hearty Beans of Rebellion

Feijão Tropeiro roughly translates to “trooper beans,” so named for the tropeiros, 18th-century muleteers and merchants who transported cattle and goods through the mountainous backlands of Brazil. But the dish’s roots go back even further, to the bandeirantes of the 17th century, explorers who pushed into Brazil’s interior when it was still an uncharted land. Their journeys demanded food that was durable, portable, and energy-dense. Enter Feijão Tropeiro, a practical mix of beans, manioc flour, salted meats like bacon, eggs, and minimal seasoning. It was a dish designed to survive the road and fuel the trek. Over time, the dish became most closely associated with Minas Gerais, where it evolved beyond survival fare. “Cowboy beans” got a hearty upgrade, now enriched with linguiça sausage, collard greens, and spices, but it never lost its working-class roots. Much like the tropeiros themselves, it embodied an independent, rugged spirit. That same spirit would soon shape the region’s first major act of rebellion.

In the 1700s, Minas Gerais was the jewel of the Portuguese Empire, rich with gold and ambition. Mines popped up across the hills, triggering a gold rush that attracted thousands of workers hoping to strike it rich. Feijão Tropeiro, already a staple of traveling merchants and explorers, became the everyday sustenance of miners toiling in the heat and dust, cheap, filling, and easy to make in large batches.

But by the end of the century, the gold was running out. The Portuguese Crown, unwilling to loosen its grip, imposed heavier and heavier taxes. Chief among them was the Quinto, a 20% levy on all gold, enforced at official smelting houses where miners were required to have their gold stamped and taxed before payment. To make matters worse, the crown began demanding quotas. When mines couldn’t meet them, the government prepared to impose the Derrama, a forced collection of unpaid taxes.

In 1789, the Derrama was declared. The people of Minas Gerais, already squeezed by diminishing returns and rising prices, were now told the tax deficit would be forcibly collected. It was a breaking point. A hungry, angry working class, made up of miners, muleteers, and laborers, had spent their lives fueling the empire and now faced ruin. These were Feijão Tropeiro-eating people, and the USA’s recent revolution against similar circumstances seemed pretty instructive to a certain group of people in Minas Gerais.

The debts to the Portuguese government were not just a working-class phenomenon. The intellectuals, military officers, priests, and poets of Minas Gerais also were on the hook for the unpaid taxes. Many of these people, who had advanced education in Europe, were exposed to the ideas of the Enlightenment: Locke, Rousseau, Voltaire, etc. Much like in the US, these local aristocrats started to foment ideas of rebellion against the Portuguese Empire. Joaquim José da Silva Xavier, also known as Tiradentes, was the most passionate and the leader. He was an ensign in the cavalry, a dentist, sometime miner, and an activist. While he was of means, he was connected far more with the tropeiro-eating working class than the poets, judges, lawyers, and engineers that were also part of the conspiracy.

They proposed a new republican government, with a new flag with the Latin slogan “Libertas Quae Sera Tamen,” or “Freedom, albeit late.” But they did not have much in the way of aspirations beyond the overthrow of the Portuguese regime. They intended to keep the social structure the same, the property ownership the same, and the slavery the same. Furthermore, this would-be revolution did not have a Thomas Paine who could spread revolutionary fire to the masses. Tiradentes was far more concerned with converting other local aristocrats in private rather than bringing it to the working class at this point. The miners of Minas were far too busy slaving in the mines to provide this quota, eating their simple bean dish and being largely unaware of the ideological considerations of the new taxation or the Enlightenment ideals that were animating the conspiracy against the Portuguese among the local aristocracy.

The conspirators lacked any kind of a cohesive plan, and the plans they did have were in the early stages when the movement was betrayed. Joaquim Silvério dos Reis, a military man who was heavily in debt to the crown and asked to be part of the conspiracy, felt by revealing it to the colonial government, he could have his debt forgiven and become rich off a reward. It is unknown if that happened, but what did happen is the other conspirators of this Inconfidência Mineira (Minas Gerais Conspiracy) were arrested and exiled to Africa. The ringleader of the group, Tiradentes, was publicly hanged in Rio de Janeiro, then dismembered. His body parts were displayed along the road to Minas Gerais, and his head prominently displayed as a warning to others.

Feijão Tropeiro continued to be eaten as a workers’ dish in Minas and continues to be popular to this day. As for independence, this would come about 25 years later. King Dom John VI’s son decided to ride the wave of discontent against the Portuguese government and declared Brazil an independent empire in 1822, with himself as Emperor Pedro I, bringing the would-be upper-class rebellion of Minas full circle. Years later, when Brazil became a republic, Tiradentes would be honored as the first martyr of Brazilian independence.

Save some room for Tropeiro! It is delicious, but hearty and quite filling.

Feijão Tropeiro (Cowboy Beans)

Feijão Tropeiro is a popular Brazilian dish, especially in the state of Minas Gerais. It’s a hearty bean dish mixed with ingredients like bacon, sausage, eggs, collard greens, and manioc flour.

Ingredients:

1 lb pinto beans (or black beans), cooked and drained (reserve some cooking liquid)
½ lb bacon, diced
1 lb Brazilian sausage (linguiça calabresa), sliced
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 bunch collard greens, stems removed and chiffonade-cut
8 oz (about 1½ cups) manioc (cassava) flour (farinha de mandioca)
4 large eggs, lightly beaten
Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
Olive oil or lard, for cooking
Fresh parsley or cilantro, chopped (for garnish)
Optional: crispy pork rinds (torresmos) for topping

Instructions:

Fry bacon: In a large skillet, fry diced bacon until crispy. Remove with a slotted spoon and set aside. Leave a few tablespoons of bacon fat in the pan.
Cook sausage: Add sausage to the pan and brown. Remove and set aside with the bacon.
Sauté aromatics: Add a bit of olive oil or lard if needed. Cook onion until translucent (2–3 minutes), then add garlic and cook until fragrant (1 minute).
Add greens and beans: Stir in the collard greens until wilted, then add beans and combine well.
Scramble eggs: Push the bean mixture to one side of the pan. Pour in beaten eggs and scramble them. Mix into the beans once cooked.
Add manioc flour: Gradually stir in manioc flour until everything is coated and slightly toasted. Add reserved bean liquid if the mix is too dry.
Finish: Stir bacon and sausage back in. Season with salt and pepper.
Serve: Serve hot, garnished with herbs and pork rinds if desired.

Feijoada: Freedom in a Black Pot

Feijoada is often considered Brazil’s national dish. It evolved from Portuguese meat dishes, with the addition of the black beans readily available in South America. The hearty stew includes black beans, onion, garlic, and bay leaves, and then a variety of cured meats, including carne seca, pork, linguiça, and chouriço. Notably, the meats themselves add most of the flavor. The most enduring origin story frames feijoada as Brazil’s version of soul food: a dish created by enslaved Africans who repurposed scraps and undesirable cuts—ears, feet, tails, and trimmings—into something sustaining and soulful. Whether this narrative is historically precise or partially mythologized, the association with Brazil’s enslaved population has endured, and for good reason. Feijoada reflects both ingenuity in the kitchen and the will to survive with dignity in a system designed to deny it. Brazil was the last nation in the Western Hemisphere to abolish slavery, a year before it was declared a republic, and feijoada’s role in abolition, as the national dish of the new republic, and its importance to Brazil’s newly free population need to be explored.

Brazil’s slaveholding elite held immense and widespread power. Unlike the United States, where slavery was largely regionalized in the South, Brazil’s reliance on slavery was more deeply integrated across the country. Coffee was king, and the plantation owners who profited from it held disproportionate influence over the economy, the monarchy, and the laws. But abolition didn’t happen all at once. It was, as historians often describe it, a death by a thousand cuts.

One of the most striking moments came in 1835 in Bahia: the Malê Revolt. This was no spontaneous uprising. It was a planned rebellion by literate Muslim slaves, many of them Yoruba and Hausa, who aimed to overthrow the social order and establish an Islamic state in Brazil. Though it was swiftly suppressed, it terrified Brazil’s elites. Comparisons to the Haitian Revolution abounded, and a nervous ruling class responded by both cracking down on African religious and cultural practices and accelerating efforts to halt the slave trade. By 1850, the transatlantic slave trade had been formally abolished. Enslaved people would still be born and sold within Brazil, but the pipeline from Africa had been severed.

But the institution itself remained. As Brazil fought a grueling war against Paraguay in 1864, the empire pressed the enslaved into military service to keep up flagging numbers of recruits. The officers and soldiers who fought with them began to see the great injustice of sending an enslaved population to die on the battlefield for the glory of the nation of Brazil. Over sharing bowls of feijoada with their fellow soldiers, the abolitionist sentiment in Brazil grew tenfold because of that war. In 1871, the monarchy passed “The Law of the Free Womb,” which would free all children born to enslaved mothers. However, they often had to work for free until they reached adulthood, “as compensation.” There also was a law passed that would free all slaves at the age of 60, a cynical law not opposed by the elite, as most slaves were dead by this age, and those who weren’t were usually no longer “productive.”

The most damaging thing to the institution of slavery was a series of mass flights that happened in the São Paulo area. Several groups of slaves just grabbed their tools, grabbed their feijoada pots, and all left the plantations at once. This essentially crippled the slave economy in these regions, making it impossible for landowners.

Finally, in 1888, the fight against slavery got a final push. Princess Isabel, the daughter of the reigning monarch, Pedro II, was a frequent reader of abolitionist newspapers. Abolitionist intellectuals and activists like Joaquim Nab Guedes, Luiz Gama, and André Rebouças had captured her imagination, and like much of Brazilian society in 1888, she had become staunchly against the practice. Her father, Emperor Pedro II, would travel overseas frequently and name his daughter to run the country as regent while he was away. During one of these times, she dismissed the cabinet and appointed one of fellow abolitionists.

On May 13, 1888, she signed the “Lei Áurea,” or “Golden Law.” It may hold the record of being the shortest law in history, being only two lines: “Article 1: From this date, slavery is declared abolished in Brazil. Article 2: All dispositions to the contrary are revoked.” Of course, there was no 40 acres and a mule even promised. Slaves were suddenly freed, with little access to education or employment opportunities. They often continued to work for their former masters in arrangements that looked conspicuously like slavery. However, feijoada took on a new meaning. It was now the stew of the freed, no longer the stew of the enslaved.

Abolition, however, wasn’t celebrated by all. Brazil’s landed elite, longtime supporters of the monarchy, felt betrayed. With Emperor Pedro II in failing health and Princess Isabel married to a widely disliked foreigner, the monarchy collapsed the following year. In 1889, Brazil became a republic.

One could cynically argue that feijoada became the national dish not because it represented the people, but because its association with freedom marked the very event that drove the slave-owning class to abandon the empire. But I choose to see it differently: feijoada is the dish of those who built Brazil, and who claimed freedom with little more than their labor, their hands, and their stew pots. And what a delicious dish it is.

So, once again: SAVE ROOM! This one is rich, hearty, and a full meal in every sense of the word.

Feijoada

Ingredients:

For the beans and meats:

1 lb dried black beans
10 oz dried salted beef (carne seca), soaked overnight in cold water (change water 3–4 times)
1 lb pulled pork (pre-cooked or prepared from pork shoulder)
14 slices good-quality thick-cut bacon (about 1 lb total)
10 oz chorizo sausage (sliced; reliably replaces paio)
10 oz linguiça calabresa (cooked pork sausage, sliced)

For aromatics and flavor:

4 tbsp olive oil, divided
1 large yellow onion, chopped
8 garlic cloves, sliced or minced
2 dried bay leaves
Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

To serve:

Hot white rice
Sautéed collard greens
Farofa (toasted cassava flour)
Orange slices

Instructions:

Prepare the salted beef and beans:

Soak the dried salted beef in cold water for 8–12 hours, changing the water 3–4 times to remove excess salt. Drain and cut it into 1-inch cubes.
Soak the dried black beans in cold water for 8–12 hours until they expand. Drain well.

Pre-cook the beans with bacon fat:

In a large pot or Dutch oven, add the soaked black beans, bay leaves, and about half of your chopped bacon (approximately 7 slices).
Add enough water to cover the beans by several inches.
Bring the mixture to a gentle boil over medium-high heat. As the bacon renders, it will infuse the beans with smoky flavor. Then reduce the heat, cover, and let simmer for about 1.5–2 hours until the beans are tender.

Prepare pulled pork (if starting raw):

If using a raw pork shoulder, season a 1–1.5 lb piece with salt, pepper, and—if you wish—a pinch of smoked paprika for extra depth.
Slow-cook the pork in a 250°F oven or slow cooker for 6–8 hours until it is tender and easily shredded. Reserve 1 lb of shredded pork for the stew.

Brown the meats:

In a large skillet, heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil over medium heat.
Add the remaining chopped bacon (about 7 slices) and cook until crispy. Remove and set aside.
In the same skillet, add the sliced chorizo and linguiça calabresa. Brown them for 3–4 minutes, stirring occasionally to let the sausages release their flavorful oils. Remove and set aside with the bacon.

Sauté aromatics:

Depending on how much fat remains in the skillet from the meats, add a little more olive oil if needed.
Sauté the chopped onion over medium heat until softened and translucent (about 5 minutes).
Add the minced garlic and cook for another 2–3 minutes until fragrant.

Assemble the stew:

Once the beans are tender, add the pre-cooked salted beef and pulled pork to the bean pot.
Stir in the sautéed onions and garlic mixture, along with the browned chorizo and linguiça.
If you’d like even more bacon flavor, you can crumble most of the crisp bacon into the stew (saving a little for garnish).
If the liquid is too thick, gently add water or chicken broth to achieve your desired consistency.

Simmer to meld flavors:

Bring the assembled pot to a boil, then reduce the heat to low.
Cover and simmer for 1.5–2 hours, stirring occasionally. This slow simmer helps the flavors meld and allows the bacon-infused broth to develop depth.
Taste and adjust seasoning with salt and pepper.

Serve:

Ladle the hearty feijoada over hot white rice.
Offer sides of sautéed collard greens, a sprinkle of farofa for crunch, and fresh orange slices to cut through the richness.
Optionally, top with reserved crisp bacon pieces for an extra burst of smoky flavor.

Farofa (Toasted Cassava Flour)

Farofa is a toasted cassava flour mixture, often savory, and a staple condiment in Brazilian cuisine. It’s used to add texture and absorb the delicious juices of dishes like feijoada.

Ingredients:

4 tablespoons butter or bacon fat (reserved from the feijoada bacon, or simply use butter)
1 small onion, finely chopped (optional, for extra flavor)
2 cups manioc (cassava) flour (farinha de mandioca), fine or medium grain
Salt to taste
Fresh parsley, chopped (optional, for garnish)
Crispy cooked bacon bits (optional, if you have extra from the feijoada)

Instructions:

Melt fat: In a large skillet over medium heat, melt the butter or bacon fat. If using onion, add the chopped onion and cook until softened and translucent, about 3–5 minutes.
Add cassava flour: Add the manioc flour to the skillet.
Toast the flour: Continuously stir the flour with a wooden spoon or spatula. The key is to toast the flour evenly without burning it. It will gradually change color, becoming slightly golden brown and crumbly. This process can take anywhere from 5 to 15 minutes, depending on the heat and your desired level of toastiness.
Season: Once the farofa is toasted to your liking, remove it from the heat. Season with salt to taste.
Serve: If desired, stir in chopped fresh parsley and crispy bacon bits. Serve warm alongside your feijoada. Farofa should be light, crumbly, and slightly crunchy.

Pão de Queijo: From Fields to Factories

Pão de Queijo, Brazilian cheese bread made with cassava starch, has a history dating back centuries. Pre-dating colonization, indigenous people in Minas Gerais used rolled-up cassava starch to make bread, as the land was not great for growing wheat. As colonists started dairy farms in the area, they brought milk, eggs, and cheese, adding those to the recipe and giving rise to the little balls of bread and cheese that are so well known today. Of course, they’ve become a beloved snack, and especially a breakfast food to go with coffee. So much a staple it was for the farmers of Minas Gerais, that they brought it with them when farming started to falter. Here’s the story.

The establishment of the Brazilian Republic and abolition of slavery began a sea change in labor. Owners of plantations would seek out workers from other continents, petitioning the government to engage in a subsidized labor program. Immigrants from Germany, Italy, and East Asia began to immigrate to Brazil in large numbers. The European immigrants, who often had experience in the trades, didn’t stay in the fields long. Italian immigrants especially drifted towards the cities, as they established new agribusinesses and textile companies. The coffee barons followed suit and began to shift their capital towards building up the cities. The immigrant population began to form the backbone of the new industrialized working class, getting jobs in construction and in the factories. São Paulo especially rapidly industrialized, becoming both a factory hub and a major port for the export of agricultural produce from the interior. Pão de Queijo, while a staple of Brazil’s rural areas, found its way to cities with immigrants who moved. Being easy to make, it was great for industrial workers.

But, of course, one thing that the coffee barons didn’t anticipate was that these European immigrants had experience with the labor movement. In 1917, São Paulo’s workers engaged in a general strike over low wages, high costs of living, and poor working conditions. It was brutally repressed by the state, but Rio de Janeiro soon followed suit. These two general strikes would become the first major signs of labor activity in Brazil’s history. It also led to a feeling of unrest in Brazil.

Of course, the industrial sectors still paled in comparison to the agricultural ones. Brazil’s ruling elite ran on a steady diet of café com leite: São Paulo’s coffee and Minas Gerais’s dairy interests took turns at the presidential helm, in a backroom political rotation that preserved elite control under the guise of electoral process. Then, in 1929, the Great Depression happened, and the price of coffee crashed both the economy and the coffee-with-milk system.

The other states decided that they were sick of the dominance of coffee and joined together in a “Liberal Alliance,” picking Getúlio Vargas, the president of the state of Rio Grande do Sul, as their presidential candidate. He lost, but the “Liberal Alliance” refused to acknowledge the results of the election, calling it fraudulent. The federal “Coffee” government retaliated by staging rebellions against the state governments that participated in the Liberal Alliance. When João Pessoa, Vargas’s running mate, cracked down on opposition figures, one of them, exposed in an embarrassing love-letter scandal, responded with a pistol. Pessoa’s assassination turned a regional rebellion into a full-blown national crisis. Thus, it triggered the revolution of 1930.

The states of Minas Gerais, Paraíba, and Rio Grande do Sul entered open insurrection against the Brazilian government. They won, and Getúlio Vargas was installed as president. Seeing the need to break the power of the coffee industry, Vargas wanted to shift the landscape of labor.

Basing much of his ideas on the “corporatist” (fascist) governments of Portugal, Spain, and Italy, Vargas decided to codify labor rights, reasonable working conditions, and attempt to drive workers from the countryside into the cities. Pão de Queijo, once the province of rural kitchens, now rolled hot off the street carts of São Paulo and Rio. Soft and warm, with the tang of cheese and a crust of tradition, it became a snack that told the story of a country shifting from field to factory, one chewy bite at a time.

Of course, the labor regime was highly regulated. Vargas didn’t want to free the workers, only shift who had power. He framed these labor rights as a “grant” from the state and conditioned citizenship to participation in the new state-regulated labor system. Of course, it wasn’t all bad.

For the first time, paid vacations were enshrined as a right, the work week was set at 44 hours, child labor was prohibited, unions were made legal (but were tightly controlled by the state), minimum wage was established, and maternity leave was introduced. It made the Pão de Queijo easier to enjoy for all sectors of the public.

Of course, these were just a means for Vargas to control the population more. Resistance started popping up, first in the form of the coffee barons of São Paulo looking for free elections (and were crushed), then in the form of a communist uprising. His government would have a propaganda field day with both, using the threat of further uprisings to justify taking more control with a state of emergency. During this emergency, he would jail trade unionists, suspend civil rights, and jail opposition leaders.

His former allies would get more and more concerned, as he turned more and more towards the military for support. The military leader he was closest to, Pedro Aurélio de Góis Monteiro, was notably pro-Nazi Germany and felt Brazil should orient itself more towards that government. It is unknown if the closeness was ideological or if, due to paranoia, he felt Monteiro was the only person he could trust, but in September 1937, Monteiro “found” The Cohen Plan at the Ministry of War, a document detailing plans for a violent communist uprising. Vargas’s response was to jail all opposition leaders, cancel elections, dismiss Congress, and establish a new state called the Estado Novo (much like the regime across the ocean in Portugal). However, the response from the public was tame, as the continued industrialization and labor rights meant, for the first time, many were building a nest egg, living a cosmopolitan urban life, and eating Pão de Queijo in an apartment where they were no longer tied to the land.

In the new regime, Vargas banned all political parties. Congress was never reconvened. He continued his policies of industrialization, codifying all the new labor policies into a single law and publicly celebrating May Day as a worker’s holiday. His fascist allies were frustrated with his support for socialist holidays and social democratic policies. He also banned Italian and German language schools to attempt to “Brazilianize” the immigrant populations. Largely, this was an attempt to engage in Brazilian nationalism. He subsidized the Rio Carnival and Samba schools and elevated dishes like Pão de Queijo as examples of Brazilian culture.

His downfall truly came with World War II. While he started out as a key trading partner of the Axis powers, Pearl Harbor meant the entire Western Hemisphere would declare war on the Axis. Monteiro would turn in his resignation, but Vargas would refuse it. Brazil would become an active participant in the war, sending troops to fight in the Italian campaign and propagandizing against fascism at home.

Of course, as the Brazilian public began to fight fascism abroad, they began to notice similarities to it at home. Life was better than it was during the coffee-and-milk regime, but they began to clamor for more. The first labor strike since Vargas took power emerged in 1943, in response to war rationing. Pão de Queijo underwent another transformation, now served by street vendors to strikers and protestors. Vargas would allow the reformation of political parties in 1945, but the military, afraid of Vargas seizing absolute power, would force his resignation and depose him in 1945, and restore the direct election of presidents.

Vargas would become elected president again in 1951. But he was a lame duck. The world was being torn in two directions, and as he was despised by the laissez-faire capitalists and not trusted by left-wing communists, he found himself alone. He did found Brazil’s state oil company during this time, Petrobras, but his allies were few. Of course, even the few allies he did have he could not trust. Gregório Fortunato, the chief of Vargas’s personal guard, was implicated in attempting to assassinate an anti-Vargas journalist, Carlos Lacerda, and successfully killing a military officer. It is likely Vargas was not involved or aware of the attack. But the military demanded his resignation. With the military now turning on him again, Getúlio Vargas ended his life by shooting himself in the chest.

Vargas’s legacy is complicated, authoritarian but deeply impactful. Labor protections endured. So did Pão de Queijo. It moved from rural ovens to city streets to global cafés. It’s a snack that rose with the workers and baked itself into Brazil’s modern identity.

What’s there to say about Pão de Queijo? It’s simply the best.

Pão de Queijo (Brazilian Cheese Bread)

Pão de Queijo are delicious, chewy, gluten-free cheese rolls made with tapioca flour.

Ingredients:

2 cups polvilho doce
1 cup polvilho azedo
1 cup milk
½ cup oil (or butter)
1 tsp salt
2 large eggs
1.5–2 cups grated cheese (e.g., Minas cheese, Parmesan, or a mix)

Instructions:

Preheat oven and prepare baking sheets: Preheat your oven to 400°F (200°C). Line two baking sheets with parchment paper or silicone baking mats.
Boil milk, oil, and salt: In a medium saucepan, combine the milk, vegetable oil, and salt. Bring to a gentle boil over medium heat, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat as soon as you see large bubbles.
Add tapioca flour: Add all the tapioca flour to the hot liquid at once. Stir vigorously with a wooden spoon until all the flour is incorporated and you have a thick, grainy, and gelatinous dough.
Cool the dough: Transfer the dough to a large mixing bowl (or the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment). Beat on medium speed for a few minutes until the dough cools down slightly and becomes smoother.
Incorporate eggs: With the mixer on medium speed (or by hand, beating vigorously), add the eggs one at a time, mixing well after each addition until fully incorporated. Scrape down the sides of the bowl as needed. The dough will become very sticky and stretchy.
Add cheese: Add the grated cheese and beat until fully incorporated. The final dough will be sticky, stretchy, and soft, with a consistency between cake batter and cookie dough.
Form the cheese balls: Have a small bowl of water ready. Using a tablespoon or a small ice cream scoop (dipping it in water between scoops to prevent sticking), scoop out portions of the dough and form into small balls (about 1.5 to 2 inches in diameter). Place them about 1.5 inches apart on the prepared baking sheets.
Bake: Bake for 15–20 minutes, or until the Pão de Queijo are puffed up, golden brown, and slightly crispy on the outside. Be careful not to overbake, as they can become hard.
Serve: Serve warm. They are best enjoyed fresh but can be reheated in a toaster oven or microwave.

Coxinha: Fried Fury

Coxinha is a beloved Brazilian street food. A fried croquette filled with shredded chicken, it translates to “little thigh,” which refers to its drumstick-like shape. The legend of how it was created goes that it was created by the Brazilian royal chef for the son of Princess Isabel (remember her?). He had a developmental disability and would only eat chicken drumsticks, but one day the palace kitchen ran out. The palace cook, worried the prince would go hungry, shredded other parts of the chicken, put them in dough to resemble a drumstick, and fried them. The prince loved them, and as they spread throughout the royal family, they became a staple of the royal kitchen of the Brazilian Empire. Of course, there’s another much more boring theory that it came through French culinary influence to Brazil via Portugal. But perhaps the most likely story is also the most satisfying: as São Paulo’s factories multiplied, working-class cooks created a filling, portable snack from cheaper chicken cuts. Shaped like drumsticks, they were both affordable and symbolic; drumsticks were expensive, tempting, and just out of reach for many laborers. Why not make your own? Either way, by the middle of the 20th century, they were a staple of street food, available all over the country. They also helped bring down a dictatorship.

The years after Getúlio Vargas’s suicide were marked by unrest and instability. Presidencies didn’t last long, but people tried. Juscelino Kubitschek tried to enact a program of rapid modernization, or as he called it, “Fifty Years in Five!” His presidency ended in 1961, with not much to show for it except for soaring inflation, increased foreign debt, growing inequality, and people clamoring that he supported corporations instead of the people. Oh, and this sweet futuristic new modernist capital city called Brasília.

Jânio Quadros won the presidency on a platform of anti-corruption and austerity. He liked to campaign with a broom to sweep away the corruption. He sought to pursue an independent foreign policy, bringing the country closer to socialist nations like Cuba, which made the conservative forces within the military very alarmed. After only seven months in office, Quadros resigned, saying “terrible forces” were conspiring against him. His vice president, João Goulart, was a protégé of Getúlio Vargas and considered too left-leaning by the military. He was abroad in China, and the military did not want to allow him to become inaugurated. To avoid a civil war, a parliamentary system was temporarily adopted, significantly curtailing the president’s powers, allowing Goulart to take office as a president in name only.

João Goulart, or “Jango” as he was known, was a charismatic figure with a knack for rallying the masses. Using the bully pulpit, he pushed for reforms that echoed his mentor Getúlio Vargas’s populist legacy: land redistribution, workers’ rights, and curbing foreign corporate influence, and most importantly, regaining the presidential powers taken from him. The people showed up to massive rallies demanding his platform get passed, with street vendors hawking coxinha on the sidelines. The working class may have been thrilled, but the conservative military elite, the US, and the landowning class got shivers down their spine.

He was able to get his presidential powers restored in 1964 by plebiscite. Seeing the fear of a new, much larger Cuba possibly becoming a reality, the military staged a coup, with US approval. Goulart fled to Uruguay, and the military promised to clean Brazil of leftist influences and disorder. The military government would unleash 21 years of repression, which would last from 1964 to 1985.

The military regime would utilize foreign investment, infrastructure projects, repression of labor leaders, and austerity measures to attempt to get the economy growing. All Goulart’s social programs were reversed, and public demonstrations were banned. A new political party, The National Renewal Alliance, or ARENA, was started to give a civil face to the military government. They also had created an official opposition party, the Brazilian Democratic Movement, or MDB. The president was picked through indirect means by the legislature, which meant they were handpicked by the military.

In many ways, the regime’s focus on economic growth paid off, with Brazil achieving 10% annual GDP growth in the early ‘70s. This happened to coincide with the “years of lead,” or the worst period of human rights abuses, institutionalized torture, extrajudicial killings, and forced disappearances. People were too afraid to protest against the meager rations they were getting, and therefore a very small amount grew wealthy off foreign capital while the rest suffered.

This couldn’t last forever, however, and the “Brazilian miracle” in the economy began to collapse by the early 1980s. The flow of foreign capital given by the US as thanks for fighting communism that was used to pay for infrastructure projects had dried up. By 1983, inflation exceeded 200%. Seeing the writing on the wall, president João Figueiredo began to introduce a redemocratization process, but notably without a commitment to return to direct elections for president. Of course, the working class had other ideas.

The Diretas Já movement (Direct [elections] Now) was formed of a wide cross-section of Brazil. Labor leaders, church leaders (impacted by liberation theology), student groups, journalists, and members of the opposition party began to organize protests in every major city to rally for direct elections of the president. One common sight at these protests were street carts full of coxinha nearby, and it became a sort of informal symbol of the movement. As these were the first mass demonstrations since the beginning of the regime, the protests started small, with 5,000 turning out at the first in 1983. However, by April 1984, 1,000,000 people turned out in Rio de Janeiro and 1,500,000 in São Paulo, all with coxinha in hand.

The legislature took a vote on an amendment to allow direct presidential elections in late April 1984; however, before it could pass, half the legislature left the room so the chamber could not achieve quorum. However, the military government could read the room, and civilian government returned in 1985. One of the first tasks of the new government was to write a new constitution, which was enacted in 1988. This new one guaranteed individual civil liberties such as habeas corpus for the people of Brazil and, echoing the Diretas Já movement, direct election of presidents.

This constitution has been in effect through today. Of note, one of Diretas Já’s major leaders, Lula da Silva, is now president. Coxinha also remains a popular street snack, as well as a snack for festivals and parties too.

One word of advice: Make sure you cook these for long enough. No one wants to bite in and get a nice bite of soft dough.

Coxinha (Brazilian Chicken Croquettes)

Coxinhas are popular teardrop-shaped Brazilian snacks filled with a savory shredded chicken mixture, then breaded and deep-fried.

Ingredients:

For the chicken filling:

2 small skinless, boneless chicken breast halves
2 cups chicken broth (or more as needed)
1 tbsp olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
5 green olives, chopped (optional)
2 tbsp chopped fresh parsley
Salt and black pepper to taste
2–3 tbsp cream cheese (optional, for a creamier filling)

For the dough:

2 cups chicken broth (from cooking the chicken)
3½ tbsp butter
Salt to taste
3½ cups all-purpose flour, sifted (about 450g)
2 large potatoes, peeled, boiled, and mashed (about 1.5 cups mashed) – some recipes use mashed potato in the dough for extra softness; some don’t, you can omit if preferred

For breading and frying:

1 large egg, whisked
1–2 cups breadcrumbs (panko or fine breadcrumbs)
Vegetable oil, for deep-frying

Instructions:

Cook the chicken: Place chicken breasts in a pot with 2 cups of chicken broth. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat, cover, and simmer until chicken is cooked through (about 15–20 minutes). Remove chicken, let cool slightly, then shred finely with two forks. Reserve the cooking broth.
Make the chicken filling: In a skillet, heat olive oil over medium heat. Sauté chopped onion until soft and translucent (about 5 minutes). Add minced garlic and cook for another minute until fragrant. Add the shredded chicken, chopped green olives (if using), and fresh parsley. Stir well. Season with salt and pepper to taste. If using, stir in the cream cheese until well combined and melted. Remove from heat and let cool.
Make the dough: In a large saucepan, combine the reserved chicken broth, butter, and a pinch of salt. Bring to a simmer over medium heat. If using mashed potatoes, stir them into the simmering liquid until fully incorporated. Add the sifted flour all at once, stirring vigorously with a wooden spoon until a thick, smooth dough forms and pulls away from the sides of the pan. Continue to cook for another 1–2 minutes, stirring constantly. Transfer the hot dough to an oiled work surface (or a large bowl) and knead until smooth and pliable (be careful, it will be hot!). You can use a stand mixer with a dough hook for this.
Assemble the coxinhas: Take a small portion of the dough (about the size of a golf ball) and flatten it in the palm of your hand to form a disk. Place about 1–2 teaspoons of the cooled chicken filling in the center of the dough disk. Carefully bring the edges of the dough up and around the filling, pinching them together to seal completely and form a teardrop shape (resembling a chicken drumstick). Ensure there are no cracks in the dough. Repeat with the remaining dough and filling. Place the formed coxinhas on a plate and cover with a damp towel to prevent them from drying out.
Bread the coxinhas: Set up three shallow bowls: one with the whisked egg and one with the breadcrumbs. Dip each coxinha first in the whisked egg, ensuring it’s fully coated, then roll it in the breadcrumbs until completely covered. Gently press the breadcrumbs onto the surface to adhere.
Deep-fry: Heat vegetable oil in a deep fryer or a large, heavy-bottomed pot to 350–375°F (175–190°C). Fry the coxinhas in small batches for about 3–5 minutes, or until golden brown and crispy. Do not overcrowd the pot. Remove the fried coxinhas with a slotted spoon and place them on a wire rack lined with paper towels to drain excess oil.
Serve: Serve hot. Coxinhas are best enjoyed fresh.

Picanha: Grilled Rebellion

Brazilian churrasco is a traditional method of barbecue from the windblown plains of southern Brazil. In the region of Rio Grande do Sul, gaúchos, South American cowboys, would gather around open flames after long days of herding cattle. Using swords, spits, or whatever tools they had on hand, they slow-cooked massive cuts of meat over wood fires. Salt was the only seasoning. No rubs, no marinades, just flame, smoke, and beef. As these gaúchos spread northward in the 1940s, they brought their barbecue with them. Roadside churrascarias popped up near truck stops and highways, where waiters carved sizzling steaks straight from skewers onto plates.

Picanha came to the grill later. A triangular cut from the top of the rump, called the sirloin cap elsewhere, picanha is defined by its thick, luscious fat cap. In the 1970s, it became a churrasco staple, cooked fat-side down so the melting fat could baste the meat as it seared. In most countries, butchers divide this into other cuts, but in Brazil, the whole slab is grilled and sliced into thick, juicy rounds. It’s usually served with farofa (toasted manioc flour) and vinagrete, a Brazilian salsa. But as picanha and churrasco spread beyond the cowboys, beyond the roadside diners, and into polished restaurants and exported menus, the people who built it, who raised the cattle, lit the fires, and washed the plates, started asking for more than just meat scraps.

As weekend churrascos became symbols of Brazil’s rising middle class, millions of rural workers had no land, no livestock, and no rights. Brazil had, and still has, one of the most unequal land distributions in the world, something that was exacerbated by the military dictatorship’s connections with agribusiness. A small elite owned the majority of arable farmland. The rest? They worked it, or tried to, under someone else’s thumb.

In the 1970s, several isolated, yet growing, struggles for land were being waged throughout southern Brazil as the dictatorship started to loosen its grip. Often supported by progressive, liberation-theology-inspired elements of the Catholic Church, they started to gain public attention. In 1984, these disparate elements converged. The Movimento dos Trabalhadores Rurais Sem Terra (MST), the Landless Workers’ Movement, made of peasant leaders, trade unionists, and religious figures, formed in 1984. MST began organizing families to occupy unused, unproductive farmland, a right that was enshrined in Brazil’s post-dictatorial Constitution that was ratified in 1988. These weren’t wild-eyed revolutionaries; they were farmers, mothers, kids. They built schools and clinics. They planted beans and corn. They made homes where the state had failed them.

And they paid a price.

On April 17, 1996, in Eldorado dos Carajás, a convoy of MST members marched to demand land reform. Military police, under pressure from local elites, confronted them on a dusty highway in Pará. What followed was a slaughter. Nineteen landless workers were killed, most shot in the back or beaten to death. Hundreds more were injured. Many were chased down and executed as they fled. It was a massacre, broadcast to a country that could no longer pretend the land question was a historical footnote. The Eldorado massacre became a national wound, and a global one. It exposed the brutality of Brazil’s land inequality and the cost of fighting to change it.

But MST did not vanish. They mourned. They organized. And they cooked. In MST camps, churrasco took on a different meaning. It wasn’t just a pastime. It was survival. It was solidarity. After long days building settlements or burying the fallen, a fire would be lit. Maybe the meat was flank, maybe ribs, maybe, when things were good, picanha. But it wasn’t the cut that mattered. It was the sharing. It was fire, reclaimed land, and food seasoned with struggle.

Today, MST is one of the largest social movements in Latin America. They run co-ops, distribute food, and fight for agroecology over agribusiness. Their farms feed people—not stock markets. During the pandemic, while supermarket shelves emptied and supply chains broke, MST distributed thousands of tons of fresh food to Brazil’s most vulnerable.

When you season this steak, remember: only salt. Let the meat speak for itself.

Brazilian Churrasco Picanha (Sirloin Cap)

Picanha is a prized cut of beef in Brazil, known for its incredible flavor due to the thick fat cap. It’s traditionally grilled over charcoal.

Ingredients:

1 whole picanha (sirloin cap), typically 2–3 lbs, with the fat cap intact
Coarse sea salt (or rock salt)

Equipment:

Charcoal grill (preferred for authentic churrasco flavor) or gas grill
Long skewers (if you plan to skewer the meat)
Sharp knife
Meat thermometer (optional, but recommended for perfect doneness)

Instructions:

Prepare the picanha:

Score the fat cap: With a very sharp knife, lightly score the fat cap of the picanha in a crosshatch pattern (about ½-inch deep, without cutting into the meat). This helps the fat render and creates a beautiful crust.
Slice (optional, for skewers): If you’re going to skewer the picanha, cut the whole piece of picanha with the grain into 1 to 1.5-inch thick slices. Each slice will have a thick layer of fat on one side.
Fold and skewer: For each slice, fold it into a “C” shape, with the fat on the outside curve. Thread 2–3 of these folded slices onto a long skewer.
Season: Generously season all sides of the picanha (or the skewered slices) with coarse sea salt. Don’t be shy with the salt; much of it will fall off during grilling.

Preheat the grill:

Charcoal grill: Arrange your coals for a hot direct heat zone and a cooler indirect heat zone. You want a very hot side for searing.
Gas grill: Preheat to high heat (around 400°F / 200°C).

Grill the picanha:

Searing (direct heat): Place the picanha (either whole or skewered slices) fat-side down over the hottest part of the grill. Sear for about 5–7 minutes until the fat is nicely browned and crispy, and a good char has developed. Flip and sear the other side for 3–5 minutes.
Indirect cooking (finishing): Move the picanha to the cooler, indirect heat zone of the grill. Close the lid and continue to cook until your desired doneness is reached.

Rare: 120–125°F (49–52°C)
Medium-rare: 130–135°F (54–57°C)
Medium: 140–145°F (60–63°C)
(Remember that the internal temperature will rise a few degrees after removing from heat.)

Rest the meat: Once the picanha reaches your desired internal temperature, remove it from the grill and let it rest, loosely tented with foil, for 10–15 minutes. This allows the juices to redistribute throughout the meat, resulting in a more tender and flavorful steak.
Slice and serve:

After resting, slice the picanha against the grain into thin slices. This is crucial for tenderness.
Traditionally, picanha is served with farofa, white rice, black beans, and sometimes a simple vinaigrette or chimichurri sauce.

Brazilian Vinagrete (Tomato & Onion Salsa)

Ingredients:

2 medium tomatoes, diced
½ small red onion, finely diced
¼ cup fresh parsley, chopped
1 small bell pepper (red or green), finely diced (optional)
2 tbsp olive oil
2 tbsp red wine vinegar (or white vinegar)
Juice of ½ lime
½ tsp salt (or to taste)
¼ tsp black pepper
½ tsp oregano (optional)

Instructions:

In a bowl, combine the diced tomatoes, red onion, parsley, and bell pepper (if using).
Drizzle with olive oil, vinegar, and lime juice.
Add salt, black pepper, and oregano (if using).
Mix well and let it sit for at least 15 minutes before serving to allow the flavors to meld.

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