Doctor Kustom Bistro
1102 S. Lewis Ave., Suite C
It’s not every day you can offer your parents a life-altering sandwich experience—but with a little help from Doctor Kustom, I earned my place as Favorite Child™ in under 20 minutes. I invited my parents to Doctor Kustom’s new spot for a belated Father’s Day lunch, and frankly, it might be the best decision I’ve ever made as a daughter.
Doctor Kustom roared onto the scene in 2019, offering Tulsa a taste of Brazilian cuisine from a tricked-out food truck with chef Alex Figueira at the helm, his wife and kids at his side. A year later, the operation rolled into Mother Road Market with a bigger kitchen, a broader menu, and a lot more regulars. By 2024, Figueira was named a James Beard Award semifinalist for Best Chef Southwest. Now, with a shiny new storefront perched proudly alongside Route 66, Doctor Kustom Bistro has grown into something sleeker, brighter, and more intimate.
The name “Doctor Kustom” wasn’t plucked from a branding brainstorm—it’s the name of the motorcycle accessory brand Figueira started in Brazil, known for its handcrafted leather goods. Figueira may have traded handlebars for a chrome commercial kitchen, but that DNA lives on, not just in the name, but in the custom motorcycle parked in the restaurant. The bike’s chrome glints beneath sunbeams pouring through the windows, like a wink to the Mother Road.
The space is bright and inviting, anchored by a central bar where you order—no booze, but their smoothies ($8.50) go down easy—with seating arranged to give you two views: Route 66 out front, or the real show, which is the Figueira family cooking in harmony in their fantastic new kitchen. “Our vent hood is larger than our food truck was,” laughed Figueira.
Since I came under the guise of hard-hitting journalism, I had full permission to gawk through the glass into the kitchen like a fangirl. Figueira was kind enough to invite me back so I could see firsthand where the magic happens. The grill he operates is a beautiful beast—an enclosed, chrome-clad shrine to the gods of char that sears with surgical precision.
Grilling meats over an open flame is central to Brazilian cuisine, which is like the lovechild of a steakhouse and a spice market: smoky, herby, citrusy, and unapologetically carnivorous. Street snacks also go hard here. Pastéis—or pastels—are Brazil’s crispier, more sophisticated answer to American Hot Pockets, and are everyday offerings on Doctor Kustom’s menu. They also often have daily specials up their sleeves, so always keep an eye on their social media pages.
But Thursdays are holy at Doctor Kustom—because it’s the only day they offer the Picanha Steak Sandwich. At $36, it isn’t cheap, but it’s got a high yield on bang-per-buck. The ravenous line of guests that forms on Thursdays to buy every sandwich available for the day is a testament to that value. Theoretically this sandwich is big enough to split, unless you’re planning to nap afterward, in which case: YOLO.
My mom—notoriously hard to impress—took two bites, gazed at me like I said I was finally getting married, and whispered, “I will never forget this moment.” That’s right. Ranking with the memories of raising her two delightful children … was this sandwich. Honestly, fair. My dad, meanwhile, was suspiciously silent, as if communing with each bite, and even looked a little mournful when it was gone. So, what makes this $36 sandwich capable of rendering two steak connoisseurs awestruck?
Well, it starts with approximately two full steaks’ worth of picanha—a prized Brazilian cut also known as sirloin cap—flame-seared to a sultry medium rare, sliced thinly enough to not lose its integrity, then luxuriously draped like sensual layers in a Rubens painting. Lavishly seasoned with a smoky, garlicky herb rub, it somehow makes the meat taste meatier, like it was marinated in its own Platonic ideal.
A blanket of Havarti cheese is torched just enough to blister and melt into the crevices of the steak strata without affecting the steak’s temp. Everything is tucked into a golden slab of focaccia, sturdy enough to support the payload, soft enough to bite through without protest. The herbed aioli adds just enough brightness to lift all that savory indulgence, like a hit of acid in a fat-fueled dream, and the fresh greens add visual appeal. Far from dainty, it is a feat of sandwich engineering. No knife-and-fork nonsense, no juice-logged bread collapse. Each bite is more perfect than the last.
There are Steak Fries ($8) on the menu, and they’re solid. But go for the Polenta Fries ($9) instead: rectangular, golden columns of crisped cornmeal that shatter on the outside and melt on the inside. They’re topped with shredded Parmesan and served with Doctor Kustom’s herb oil, reminiscent of a bolder, less herbaceous chimichurri.
Because we’re gluttons for punishment—and fried things—we ordered a pastel, that Brazilian Hot Pocket. These deep-fried triangles of joy come stuffed to the brim with your choice of fillings: ground beef and cheese, shredded chicken with house-made cream cheese, or heart of palm with fresh tomato sauce and cream cheese, each priced at $15. We went with the Calabrese—Brazilian smoked sausage sliced thin, studded with caramelized onions that add a golden sweetness, and the perfect proportion of mozzarella for a textbook cheese-pull moment.
And the shell? A marvel. Light, crisp, and bubbled in all the right places. Made from flour, water, sugar, and salt, the dough gets a little rest before hitting the fryer, then emerges as a crackling, golden envelope of bliss. One of these has the heft to be a full meal, but why get one when you can have two, right?
Figueira’s daughter, Duda, has been part of Doctor Kustom since she was a youngster, but now commands the floor as general manager with the same calm confidence and warmth as her father. She’s also the talent behind the desserts, which, of course, we couldn’t resist. The Passion Fruit Mousse ($8) is light and dreamy, and the tangy coulis cuts through the creaminess like a citrusy mic drop. Plunge your spoon all the way down for a hit of sweet crumble that seals the deal.
Doctor Kustom Bistro is open for lunch Tuesday through Saturday from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. They also host Chef’s Table dinners, limited-seating events where guests gather around the gorgeous custom-built table inside that new, gleaming kitchen for a bespoke multi-course meal prepared by the family. They’re currently booked through 2025, so if you get an invite? Say yes. Cancel your plans. Go.
Doctor Kustom is the kind of place you can’t help but root for—not only because it’s good (it’s incredible), but because a family bet it all, built something meaningful, and brought a new flavor to Tulsa’s table. As of this writing, Doctor Kustom is the only Brazilian restaurant along the entire stretch of Route 66; it’s here, in our city, where they’ve chosen to share their passion, culture, and hospitality. And for a guy who loves motorcycles to be able to stake his family’s legacy on Route 66? “It’s a dream come true,” said Figueira, hand over heart.
