Don’t let the weird fake meat out front fool you. Rei do Gado is the real thing: welcoming, authentic and beefy.

The first thing you notice about Rei do Gado is the fake meat. As you approach the restaurant, you see a backyard grill decorated with two big chunks of a substance that looks like something from a Halloween costume. On closer inspection you see that the rubbery chunks are fake meat. But there’s no need to worry. Get a little closer to the door and take a deep breath. That’s the genuine article. Wood. Fire. Smoke. Meat. Authentic Brazilian barbecue.

From the succulent cuts of meat to the sumptuous buffet to the pseudo-Baroque/space-age decor, Rei do Gado (“Cattle King” in Portuguese) is the real deal, a faithful rendition of the Brazilian churrascaria (steakhouse). Joints of meat spin slowly over a low fire. Waiters dressed in gaucho-style uniforms dart about the dining room cutting meat from long steel skewers. Chubby cherubs greet Portuguese conquistadors in the murals on the ceiling. Stuffed bull heads stare blankly from the walls.

About the steak: What you get at a churrascaria isn’t quite the same as what you would get at a typical steakhouse. Rei do Gado deals in cuts with exotic names like picanha, fraldinha, lombinho. You’ll see many familiar names on the menu (top sirloin, top round, filet mignon), but they’re often only approximate translations.

The portions are different, too. They’re . . . well, not very big. But don’t worry. Even though you only get small slices of meat, you get so many that you’ll leave wishing that you hadn’t eaten so much.

Another thing: You won’t find steak sauce on the table. Brazilian barbecue doesn’t allow for such adulteration. The meat is simply rolled in rock salt and grilled over a flame. Nothing else is needed. The fire imparts a subtle smokiness, and the salt creates an intensely flavored crust that brings out the internal beefiness.

The “top sirloin” (picanha) is my favorite cut. (It’s really a cut called the rump cover, one of South America’s favorite cuts of beef.) It’s fork-tender and juicy. The strip of fat that surrounds the meat is crispy on the outside and almost liquid inside.

But there’s nothing wrong with any of the other cuts of meet. The beef ribs are deliciously fatty. The pork tenderloin is soft and milky. The top round is rich and garlicky (yes, there’s more than rock salt on the top round . . . forgive me). The chicken hearts, which are served for dinner but not for lunch, are deliciously chewy. The tiny filets mignons, wrapped in tangy slices of bacon, are mouth-wateringly smooth. The baby back ribs fall off the bone. The pork sausages burst with melted pork fat.

There are some tricks to the service. If the waiters see an empty plate, they fill it, and you can quickly become overwhelmed. It’s easy to stop the onslaught. There’s a small cylinder of wood on each table. Half is painted red, half green. Turn the green side up if you want more meat, the red side if you need a rest. You also have control over the doneness of your meat. If you like it rare, ask the waiter for a slice from the center. If not, ask for a slice from the end.

As good as the meat is at Rei do Gado, it’s a good idea to save some room for the buffet. The quality is excellent, and the variety of dishes is staggering: fried plantains, sautéed collard greens, black beans, coleslaw, aipim (fried yucca root), fresh fruit, roasted vegetables, pickled vegetables, bread, farofa (toasted yucca root flour), pasta and all manner of salads.

The traditional way to end a meal at a churrascaria is with a light dessert of guava paste and firm aged cheese. If you have room for more than that, try the pudim de maracuja (passion fruit custard), which is like a crème brulée with a unique acidity; or the açai, a sort of parfait made of the rich, dark palm fruit of the same name.

Brazilians often express sadness when a good meal comes to an end. I, too, get a little weepy when I realize that I can’t eat that last bite of sausage. All I can do is say obrigado (“thank you” in Portuguese . . . if you’re a woman, you say obrigada), stumble out to the sidewalk and dream of the next time I can indulge myself at Rei do Gado.

I do not have any connections with this business. I've been here five to ten times.