well. clearly it’s a cosmic conspiracy against the rice pudding eclair — once again i made it out of zumbo without. but behind every cloud lies… another cloud! the sunny cloud, to be precise.

it was that fella’s birthday yesterday, and for all those times he wistfully mentioned the lemon meringue pies his mother used to make while he was growing up, i bought him a little one of his own. a regal majesty it is, sitting pretty as though carved out of italian meringue by florentine sculptors. but beneath the swirls of gilt-edged meringue (guilt-edged meringue — ha!) is not your average lemon tart. in fact, it isn’t a lemon tart at all.

just look at that delectable triple-layer filling in its crisp shell: lime jelly, lime curd, and a very lively yoghurt creme fraiche. because he was happy to share, i can tell you that oh, it was good. after the yielding, marshmallowy meringue, the lime jelly tasted like a burst of fresh fruit, and the curd was full and fat on my tongue. and yet, i was glad to have only had the modest serve…

… because we were due for a meatfest at braza. you might think that a 6pm start for a traditional churrascaria is too early. the summer sun is still up, say, or the meats might not be ready yet. and this is true.

but this early, the kid is still in good spirits (and so are we, after the lovely waitress gives maeve the once over and agrees to charge her the three-year-old price — free — even though she’s just turned four), and the meat is not too far off.

for a $38 flat rate, we were presented with a host of side dishes — fried cassava wedges, polenta and crumbed banana; potato salad; green salad, with oranges, beetroot and ricotta; an assortment of tiny pickled brazillian chillies; tomato-capsicum salsa, so delicious we ate our way through two bowls; roasted cassava flour; and rice… which remained largely untouched — and an endless parade of meat, borne on skewers by charming brazillian waiters.

according to the menu, there are 18 varieties that go round; i lost count. that’s my plate halfway through, with a bit of grilled haloumi, some fish that came wrapped in banana leaf, some lamb, some beef, a chicken wing, a portion of banana fritter and a cube of fried polenta. i had already eaten a fat slab of pork neck. minutes later, three other cuts of beef came by, and a skewer of succulent prawns. and some more pork.

the highlight was the pork, i think, and the cheese. and the little meaty sausages and the lamb. and the prawns. also: the cassava chips… and did i mention the salsa? some of the beef was over-seasoned, a cunning ploy to get you drinking more, thought the birthday boy as he savoured his $7 beer, but all the meat was perfectly cooked, still pink and tender on the inside, and when it mattered, sometimes charred and crunchy on the outside.

unfortunately, i cannot tell you a single thing about the chargrilled chicken hearts.

late into the game, we tipped our stop-go doodad on its side to signal: respite! but i put it green end up as soon as i saw the pineapple go by. yes, they will bring you two pineapples impaled on a skewer, and carve off as many slices as you desire. the outside is liberally sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar, and the inside is succulent with juice.

we had barely finished the fruit when the particularly friendly waiter came back with another chunk of meat. “more meat?” he asked, and when we shook our heads, no longer able to speak, he continued knowingly, “more pineapple?”

it was a darned good offer, but we had to decline.