Outside of what I’m told is a small pocket of restaurants in Kilburn, Brazilian food in London mostly boils down to all-you-can-eat steak houses on the fringes of Leicester Square and the fusion sushi you’ll find in the aggressively orange confines of Sushi Samba.
Filó Brazil is, blessedly, nothing like either.
Taking over an Islington space previously occupied by one of those upmarket fried chicken chains that seem to rebrand every six months, this is the sort of airy, spacious room where the collective chatter and hubbub rises into a layer of ambient cheer, encouraged along by bright decor and warm lighting — if London restaurants elsewhere have a tendency for design verging on the clinical, Filó is having none of it.
A long bar dominates one side of the room, and drinking is a serious part of the appeal here. Brazilian lager has apparently been faithfully recreated by a local London brewer, though I’m only drawn to the cocktails, all of which are made with cachaça, often further infused in-house. Brazilian drinks have a type, and these are true to form — long, fruity, and intensely sweet. You won’t go too far wrong with the caipirinha, though I have an even better time with the amigo do caju amigo, which combines cachaça and pineapple juice with a cashew fruit purée (especially exciting since I’ve wanted to try anything with cashew fruit since learning they exist from this excellent Slop Magazine piece on Mumbai-based chef Vanika Choudhary).
The drinks alone will be enough of a draw for some, and I’m told that on weekends the place is transformed by live music and the odd DJ set. That might be one step too South American for the average British dinner crowd — the last time I went to a restaurant with a DJ I felt transformed into my own father, squinting at dimly lit food and muttering to myself about the volume, since I couldn’t hear anyone else anyway — but I can promise that on a Wednesday night the vibe falls short enough of a samba bar that you can eat in peace.
The food menu is varied without ever feeling worryingly broad. And yes, you can get a steak, but that’s far from the focus. The salted picanha isn’t the sort of thick-cut, pink-in-the-middle slab of cow that the most boring man you know would coo over - it’s thin and cooked hard, enough to bring out the best from the generous fat cap. It arrives topped by a fried egg and a whole caramelised banana, huddled amongst boulders of fibrous stewed cassava, the steak at the centre only one part of the appeal.
Elsewhere, dishes are just as likely to be Brazilian comfort food classics as they are chef Aline Quina’s own inventions — or reinventions. Chicken coxinhas — fried, breaded mounds cooked soft inside — clearly share some DNA with the braised short rib croquettes, whose honey and mustard sauce feels a little less like a South American tradition. Short ribs reappear in the mains, but here served whole, meat clinging to the bone but desperate to be shorn from it. Unusually, this doesn’t come stewed or sauced, which leaves it just a touch dry, but the chance to focus on the animal’s own flavour might be worth the trade-off.
The two dishes I insistently return to are both stews, though that’s about all they have in common.
Feijoada is a deep, dark, pungent potion of pork and black beans, the sort of food you want to cook at home if only for the excuse to keep paying visits to the pot. I scrape greedily at the beans long past the point where I know I shouldn’t, tear at chunks of spoon-soft pork belly that I really don’t need. If you eat one thing at Filó, make it this, and thank me later.
But if you can, pair it with the moqueca, if only for the contrast. A hefty fish fillet and a few prawns bob around a colourful coconut milk and palm oil broth, gently spiced but not so delicate that it can’t hold its own against the significantly less subtle feijoada. While that is an instant comfort, a fatty, savoury triumph at first bite, the moqueca is a dish that builds, one that I’m almost surprised to find myself reaching for again and again, my appreciation only growing with each extra mouthful.
These dishes’ names might sound unfamiliar, but their fundamentals are anything but, with echoes in other food from across Latin America, Southeast Asia, and beyond. Leaps of faith are likely to be rewarded, but truth be told there’s no need to order uncertainly: I don’t think I’ve ever visited a restaurant so eager to welcome newcomers to its cuisine.
It doesn’t take long to figure out where that approach comes from. Quina is a dominant presence, exuding enough warmth to overcome the chilliest of Brits. There’s not just a passion but an excitement about her food that’s effortlessly charming, less familiar dishes not just explained but extolled. Ask her about a dish and you won’t just hear what’s in it, but how it’s prepared, where it comes from, and exactly why she found it worthy of a spot on the menu. As sales pitches go, it’s hard to beat.
I think it’s also essential to what Filó offers. I came in with next to no knowledge of Brazilian food and walked away two hours later ready to adopt feijoada and moqueca into the great pantheon of comfort foods. Through Filó, Quina shares not only her food but also how it should make you feel, and I have my suspicions that she herself would find that more important than anything else.
Still dreaming of the moqueca!!