Feijão tropeiro is one of the most iconic dishes from Minas Gerais. It was created during the colonial period by tropeiros (troopers, or mounted pack-animal drivers) who carried nonperishable staples on horses or burros. Over time, other ingredients were added: linguiça (pork sausage), fried eggs, garlic, onion, and tempero mineiro, a seasoning that forms the base of Minas Gerais cuisine.
In Belo Horizonte there are restaurants that specialize in feijão tropeiro, including a one called Tropeiro do Zé, which includes a gluttonous all-you-can-eat egg service, and Minas Gerais’ most emblematic dish has been an integral part of soccer matches at Mineirão since the stadium opened in 1965.
If the Cruzeiros have a bad game, the fans will come back. But when the stadium decided to make some changes to the beloved dish, an all-out revolt by devotees ensued.
Only passion and tradition can explain the devotion to such an unattractive plate—to an outsider—as feijão tropeiro, a dull-looking heap of bits and lumps that looks like a plate scooped off the floor after a Brazilian food fight.
But one bite and you’ll appreciate the medley of flavors and textures in this traditional dish of black beans, manioc flour, and crackling cooked in a pot and served over white rice.
While visiting Belo Horizonte in 2015 in search of cachaça and Minas Gerais delicacies, I caught an 11th-round game of the Campeonato Brasileiro at Mineirão, the largest soccer stadium in the state of Minas Gerais. Home team Cruzeiro was playing Atlético Paranaense from Curitiba, Paraná, in the south. And although I still dream of seeing a game at the Maracanã stadium in Rio, Mineirão delivered an unexpected local attraction in a plate of feijão tropeiro, or trooper’s beans.
Feijão tropeiro is one of the most iconic dishes from Minas Gerais. It was created during the colonial period by tropeiros (troopers, or mounted pack-animal drivers) who carried nonperishable staples on horses or burros. Over time, other ingredients were added: linguiça (pork sausage), fried eggs, garlic, onion, and tempero mineiro, a seasoning that forms the base of Minas Gerais cuisine.
In Belo Horizonte there are restaurants that specialize in feijão tropeiro, including a one called Tropeiro do Zé, which includes a gluttonous all-you-can-eat egg service, and Minas Gerais’ most emblematic dish has been an integral part of soccer matches at Mineirão since the stadium opened in 1965.
If the Cruzeiros have a bad game, the fans will come back. But when the stadium decided to make some changes to the beloved dish, an all-out revolt by devotees ensued.
In 2013, Aramark, the American food service giant, was brought in to streamline the feijão tropeiro output at Mineirão. Aramark replaced the traditional production of tropeiro with a basic dish of beans and manioc flour served in a plastic container instead of the cheap aluminum to-go containers called marmitex that are popular in Brazil. The fans loudly voiced their concerns to stadium officials, vendors, and the media.
“They are ending what is a tradition in Minas Gerais football. Tropeiro without eggs, without steak, without sauce? It maybe looks nice in a fancy package, but I can make beans at home,” complained Wilker Telles, a Cruzeiro fan quoted in O Tempo at the time.
Thankfully, by the time I arrived at Mineirão two years later, the crisis had passed, and the traditional feijão tropeiro was back.
Fans dressed in blue home jerseys were scattered throughout the stadium; this wasn’t such an important match. That didn’t stop the faithful from loudly singing Cruzeiro songs and chants, with plastic cups of Brahma beer held high. When Arrascaeta and Marinho scored flashy goals in a 2-0 victory over Paranaense, men and women and children screamed with intensity and joy—and I felt young again.
Not knowing when I might have the chance to return, I got in line at Bar 13, known as the Tropeiro do 13, a family-run barraca, or stall, that’s a fan favorite in Mineirão.
It sells up to 1,500 tropeiros per game to fans as committed to the fabled colonial plate as they are to their home team.
Bar 13 serves all the usual fixings and the tropeirão, which includes roasted pork leg and a spicy sauce poured over the dish. I headed back to my seat with my steaming tropeiro and a cup of ice-cold Brahma in time to catch the final goal.
“That’s from Bar 13, isn’t it?” asked a woman seated near me. I responded that it was. “Good choice!” said one of her friends. “I prefer the tropeiro at Gate 6,” said another. “They give you more meat.”
While all hearts belonged to Cruzeiro that day, the battle for the best tropeiro raged on.