Before a menu even lands, the air gives it away: wood smoke, seared fat, something richly salted and unmistakably celebratory. Heads turn every time a skewer passes.
Conversations pause mid-sentence. You can feel the room tracking the movement of the knives. This isn’t a quiet dinner situation. It’s lively in that contagious way where energy builds table by table.
Gauchos move with practiced timing, carving directly onto plates while guests negotiate pacing like it’s a friendly sport. The format feels indulgent, yes, but also strangely relaxed, like the evening will unfold exactly as long as you want it to…