The following is not an exaggeration. They cook massive amounts of steaks, hams, and chicken chunks, porks, and any muscle known to man, all of which is expertly readied with culinary accuracy and they bring it to your table. They give you a card. Green side means they should come and bring you meats. Red side means they should not. They ignore the card and bring you meat anyway. And they keep bringing you meat. They don’t stop. You’re given about 2 minutes to eat the chunk or chunks of meat you’ve been given before they bring you more. They have a salad-bar if you want to try and fool them that you wish to eat other things, but the meat still comes.
Meat. Meat. MEAT! MEAT! It never stops. The meat keeps coming and it’s all delicious. Especially their picana(a kind of brazilian steak).
You find your self wondering how much surgery it will take to remove your appendix and make room for meat, or if you really need your kiddies so meat can go there. You wish there were little warehouse smurfs in your stomach to pack the meat away more efficiently.
Finaly, you are done. You can’t hear or smell anything because you’ve shoved sausage and steaks wrapped in bacon into your nasal and ear cavaties and they give you the punch line: “Care for dessert?” The sadder thing is, yes you do. Because their Belgium Chocolate Cheese-cake is illegal in 12 countries and 21 states. This is due to it heavenly nature.
I now sit in front of this computer, a mass of fat and meat made of meat and surrounded by meat. If I ever want to be eaten, I want the Goucho to cook me.