Tootling down Second Street, take a left onto Rodman just past St. Mary’s Church to find a slice of heaven at Terra Nostra’s American-Portuguese family restaurant. And they mean it about family. The portions are generous (you will be bringing home a styrofoam container full of leftovers enough for a midnight snack), and the price is right. Eat like a king for $10-12! You don’t have to even be Portuguese to eat here. There were plenty of things on the menu I could understand without an interpreter, but if you go to Terra Nostra- EAT PORTUGUESE, for heaven’s sake and leave the hamburgers for McDonald’s! I think the name means Our Homeland or something like that, and boy, is that about right. The restaurant feels like those wonderful little family-owned Mom and Pop restaurants you find in out -of- the- way nooks and crannies in Europe.
Portuguese music plays softly in the background as you are ushered with ceremony to an impeccable white cloth-covered table. I appreciate a table cloth as I get older. All around are happy family groups, great-granny and scads of youngsters, aunts, wives and husbands, with Papa at the head of the table. They are speaking in that divine shushing sound full of vowels which is Portuguese to me- and I don’t understand a word of it, but it sounds great and everyone is loving being together for a meal which is the way all civilized people should DINE.
The list of entrees is staggering, from seafood to beef, but I always get the same thing here- bisteca Portuguesa. I hope this is spelled right. After an enchanting interlude of trying not to eat all the fabulous warm bread and butter( you can live by bread alone) , the bisteca arrives. I had been told the poached egg perched saucily on the top was a good luck talisman. It sure sounds like a good story, so I gobble that down first. The beefsteak is large, cooked to perfection and aromatic with fresh garlic. It swims in the most heavenly sea of brown sauce- which is neither gravy nor au jus. It is a magic potion all its own. A melange of crisp seasonal squash perches enticingly to one side- but the piece de resistance has got to be the POTATOES. If ever a lowly spud deserved an ode, a psalm, a symphony- these are praiseworthy.
Imagine an ivory disk about the size of a small potato chip- but thicker. There is just a glimmer of the skin clinging appreciatively to the outside. What mysterious process is perpetrated upon these tremendous tubers is unknown to me. They are neither boiled nor baked. I suspect they may be quickly deep-fried, but they are not greasy or oily. Whatever the secret in cooking may be, this place could forget about all other menu items and make a bundle on these potatoes alone. Why, they could send French Fries right back to Gay Paree! At first I lower the divine morsel into the brown liquid which is lapping against the beefsteak with a fork. Pretty soon, the fork is forgotten and one finds oneself merrily seizing the taters with fingers and dunking away maniacally with reckless abandon and brown sauce dribbling down the chin.
Was there room for dessert? When it is flan- there is always room. The Portuguese have cornered the market on fabulous flan it would seem. Not a pudding, not a custard, not creme brulee- but a sort of dense velvet ambrosia which slips like cold satin down the gullet with a whisper. It is pale golden, creamy, and crowned with a caramel-ly sauce which begs to be savored somewhere on the back of your tongue forever. Take it home for breakfast if you can’t manage to slide one down on the premises! Recently I had a fever of 105 and all I wanted was Terra Nostra flan. Yes, it could be patented for invalid food, baby’s delight, everyday gourmet- and should be considered a food group all its own. There is no bad flan in Fall River.
The service was tenderly rendered by staff who seem to love doing what they do. The owner (whose name I believe was Gus) stopped by each table, as if each of us were his extended family, making sure we had been well-fed. I liked that. Gus was beginning to feel like the Good Uncle. 262 Rodman Street- open for lunch and dinner. Go solo or take a loved one or the whole clan- and don’t forget the flan.
p.s. Also recommended: saffron rice with garlic shrimp and Paella
