For an all-you-can-eat Brazilian feast, go to Rio

Sweet-faced Sam Hassan likes parrots and macaws as much as the next Brazilian guy, but sees no need to use those kitschy ornithological clichés to decorate his new restaurant. Though fond of birds, he says he's no vulture — but admits to jumping at the chance to buy Caffe Brazil in the U District last fall, transforming that small cafe into Rio Brazilian Grill.

Sam and his wife, Janete, also own Pizza Rio — a Mount Baker takeout and delivery joint where pizza comes with a carioca's accent, wearing hearts of palm, hard-boiled egg and Portuguese sausage. Riding a wave of popularity now sweeping the U.S., the family's latest venture is another nod to their homeland: a Brazilian-style barbecue restaurant known as a churrascaria rodizio, Washington's first. Rio Brazilian Grill offers an excellent adventure in fixed-price dining — and immeasurable entertainment value.

Little Rio Brazilian Grill, built on a shoestring budget, sports a pretty paint job and a samba-influenced soundtrack, yet its utilitarian atmosphere remains a (fixable) shortcoming. Glaring track lights and unattractive stack chairs had me longing for candles and — sorry, Sam — a parrot or two. What's missing in ambiance, however, is more than made up for with terrific food at affordable prices: $20 per person for "all-you-care-to-eat."

In the crowded galley kitchen, the family works as a team, preparing exceptionally fresh meat, poultry, seafood and vegetables, much of which is skewered before taking a turn in an ingenious stainless-steel Brazilian barbecue. Infrared heat burns from the top of this broad box, allowing fats and juices to drop into a water-filled receptacle, keeping smoke at bay and providing a clean, healthy medium for a delectable parade of edibles.

Leading that parade are the Hassans' sons Daniel and Gabriel Hassan. Appropriately tall and tan and young and lovely, the twins stride directly from grill to table hefting long skewers. Impaled on the swordlike implements rest hunks of tri-tip steak encrusted with coarse salt, lengths of shrimp marinated with lime and garlic, and chicken wings under the influence of a passionfruit juice.

A multitude of barbecued items make the rounds, among them sweet buttery chunks of corn on the cob, coins of mild pork sausage, peppery bacon-wrapped steak, similarly wrapped turkey breast, fresh mushroom caps and chicken hearts just a beat away from the grill. Moving from table to table, waiters invert their skewers onto patrons' plates, employing a long knife to extract bite-sized morsels. Begging assistance, they might direct you to a pair of tongs, asking you to clutch a piece of juicy tri-tip as they slice it to order. Assistance is rewarded: The meat is moist and memorable.

Churrascaria rodizio is not unlike dim-sum dining: You're at the mercy of the kitchen, which sends out items on one visit that you may not see on another. As at dim sum, servers will honor requests for more of this or that, and it's best not to fill up too fast lest the "good stuff" arrives just as you're loosening your belt and calling for the check. Complementing the impaled fare, several dishes are passed family-style. Gently marinated salmon fillets are a simple, delicious nod to the Northwest's bounty. Slices of dry pork loin in muddled brown gravy were sampled on two occasions and enjoyed on neither.

At other churrascaria rodizio, sides and salads are served buffet-style. Given space constraints, they're offered tableside here. On a quiet weeknight visit, we were swiftly presented with a veritable smorgasbord of these neat treats, including hearts of palm tossed with tomato, sweet pepper-enhanced Brazilian salsa and a mustard-tinged potato salad that would easily be the star of the show at an American barbecue.

Brazilian standards, including starchy chunks of yucca root moistened with butter, piqued my palate. Ditto for a mouth-tingling seafood stew, a typical Bahian recipe made with cod and coconut milk; feijoada, black beans stewed with pork and beef; and farofa, yucca flour fried to a fluffy grainlike consistency dotted with bits of sausage and onion.

The kitchen wasn't quite as forthcoming on a busy Saturday when we gladly ate what we were brought, enjoying dinner at a leisurely pace while seated among a roomful of patrons including children (who dine free or at a discount depending on their height) and more than a few Brazilians. We sampled grilled pineapple, unavailable on an earlier visit, missed out on zucchini and onions (snapped up by diners at nearby tables) and knew to special-request such absent favorites as the potato salad and cod (requests kindly granted).

For this we paid only $20 each, plus $12 for a perfectly quaffable bottle of house "tinto." Having finished with a rather ordinary crème caramel with canned peaches ($4.20) and a strange-textured chocolate flan with a consistency not unlike bread pudding ($4.50), next time I'll forgo dessert, opting instead to prolong my enjoyment with a glass of port.

Nancy Leson: 206-464-8838 or nleson@seattletimes.com