Cabana’s startling multi-coloured facade rears up at me as I approach from the west. Baby pink, green and purple seem to dance and sway in the clear December night. A huge, bright-blue awning with CABANA written in bold, yellow text blows in the wind. I dive inside.
For the sake of transparency, I’m drunk. It’s late December and I’m drunk. Drunk on wine, drunk on cheap carbs, drunk on bright lights and seasonal joys. I feel Dickensian, expansive. Cabana is full of beautiful people, full of good cheer. A deep carnival beat bounces around the room, seeming to flail along the brightly coloured, recycled fly-poster walls and then to rush back toward the bar, where I’m standing. The restaurant is cavernous and brightly-lit; there are banquettes fashioned out of re-used denim and bare light bulbs. The room seems a little overwhelming to a man in my state. I’m spotted by a friendly barman and in moments, I am armed with the kind of Caipirinha that your mother warned you about. Cachaca rushes into my blood, calming me, whilst sugar and lime zest inform the senses, acting as an unexpected pick-me-up. The drink is delicious; it mocks the saccharine-sweet, insipid concoctions that you might get offered in a cheap cocktail bar. This is the real thing: potent, well balanced and with beguiling fragrance. I make a private promise to invest in Cachaca – and then I stumble over to a table.
The menu at Cabana is designed to evoke a Sao Paulo dive bar, albeit a rather gastronomic one. The idea is for there to be excellent food to soak up the Cachaca and keep everyone happy. A good soaking agent is exactly what’s needed here, so we order long, selecting a raft of carb-based, meaty treats.
There are empadas filled with beef and delicious pulled pork sliders. There’s a skewer of Malagueta chicken – a sticky, smoky delight, and soothing rice Bolinhos which we tackle energetically, before settling down to await the ribs. These ribs have form. These ribs have been out on the town before. They were a highlight at last year’s Ribstock – that East London orgy of carnivorous intemperance. The ribs arrive fragrant and lethal-looking. Meat drips, then drops from bone and across tissue. Pork rarely moves with such fluid motion. We wolf them down, sucking bones and licking fingers.
At this point David Ponte, one of Cabana’s elegant English owners, arrives, arms laden with Cachaca. David may be a Brit, but Brazilian spirit runs through him – literally and metaphorically – tonight. He sits with us and starts lining up different shots of Cachaca – different quality levels and ages. He urges us to try the spirit neat, as you might a whisky or a vodka. We do as he suggests and quickly fall to the spirit’s deep, bracing charms. At some point we stagger off into the December night, booze and Bolinhos providing ample energy and insulation. As a local, I can say with sincerity that this is a welcome addition to Upper Street’s otherwise somewhat stale dining scene. Change is on the way, and Cabana looks to be leading the charge. Tudo bem as they say.
Cabana, 56 Upper Street, London N1 0NY. Tel: 020 3227 0460. Website.
