Copacabana Grill

This modest little eatery is good for a cheap Brazilian feast if you happen to be in downtown Framingham. You can expect the basics of a Brazilian buffet. The buffet consists of a couple of different salads, veggies to make your own salad, rice, beans, and plenty of grilled meats. If you’re not interested in grilled beef, chicken, sausage, or pork then you really shouldn’t bother coming in. This churrascaria is not rodizio (fixed price) and does not have passadores which is the table service that cuts slices of meat onto your plate. There’s a window in the end of the restaurant that will take whatever grilled meat you want and cut it for you and put in on your plate. If you need your meats cooked a certain way, go to an American steakhouse. Overall, I thought the beef I had was cooked well, meaning it was soft and juicy on the inside while being a little tougher on the outside and the dry rub used was flavorful while not overpowering. Their pork sausage was pretty uninspiring but I did like their chicken. It wasn’t dry at all and they used better cuts than I would’ve thought. I really enjoyed their fried rice and different sides of beans. Their salads, much like most Brazilian salads, had too much mayo although it wasn’t horrible. I liked their potato salad although didn’t care for their chicken lasagna. Yeah, although common, I’m not sure how Brazilians came up with these dishes.
The décor is very basic and there is no table service. The buffet was $ 9 after taxes, which does not include a drink. The staff speaks limited English and was not immediately obvious how to go about eating here (you pay after if eating in and there’s no window to get your churrascaria. Also you apparently need to let staff fill up a take out container if you’re order is to go).

I recently went to the Copacabana because I heard it was the hottest spot north of Havana. I have a passion for music and fashion, and at the Copa, music and passion were always in fashion. Or something like that.
I usually like to hit the bar before I hit the disco floor. When I walked up to the bar, I ran into this cougar named Lola. She had faded feathers in her hair. She looked refined, but was drinking herself half-​blind. She said she use to work at the Copa 30 years ago and her man Tony was gunned down here.
I thought she was out of her mind and really didn’t want to hear the whole story, but she bought me a drink and told me to pull up a chair. I figured if I showed a little sympathy that maybe I could take her home.
She use to be a showgirl, doing the meringue and cha-​cha, in a little dress cut down to there (she showed me) and yellow feathers in her hair. Her man Tony worked the bar while she tried to be the star. They were young and had each other, who could ask for more?
But then came along this dude named Rico. His was big pimpin and shit, with diamonds all iced out. I guess he’d seen Lola and tried to make a move up on her. But Rico went too far, and Tony sailed across the bar. Punches flew and chairs smashed in two. There was blood and then a single gun shot, and her man Tony was the one that got got.
At first I felt sorry for her, but then I ordered another drink and asked her if she had a ‘new Tony’ in her life. When she said no, I pulled my seat in closer and made a move.
Lola called me a few weeks after we hooked up and ask where I had been. I told her I was hanging out with my uncle Rico (throwing footballs by a van). I haven’t heard from her since.