Boteco Do Brasil

You'll smell the charcoal grill before you spot the neon signs on this stretch of the Trongate. Inside, it's all wooden tables, football scarves, and the kind of portions that make you question whether you've accidentally ordered for three people. The picanha comes sizzling on platters that could double as shields, while the feijoada arrives in a pot deep enough to lose a spoon in. The caipirinhas are proper strong – none of that watered-down nonsense – and the Brazilian lager flows freely until 3am most nights. Service can be a bit chaotic when it's busy, but that's half the charm. It's the sort of place where you pop in for a quick bite and emerge four hours later, slightly worse for wear but absolutely stuffed.