It all begins with a long, dim corridor where tropical music drifts through the air, setting the tone before you’ve even stepped inside. We’re at Cantina del Tigre, tucked into the San Francisco neighborhood of Panama City. You’ll need to push a heavy, almost armored door to spill into the dining room. To the right, a cocktail bar with an intimate feel; at the back, a terrace that must be gorgeous when the Panamanian sky isn’t pouring down, as it unfortunately was that day. A row of large tanks gives away the house microbrewery, and the open kitchen, long and narrow, lets you watch a brigade of chefs at full boil.
Behind the stoves is Fulvio Miranda, originally from the province of Chiriquí. Before opening his own restaurant, he spent seven years in the industry, notably running Esa Flaca Rica, a burger food truck inspired by Panamanian flavors. During the pandemic, he changed course and launched a mobile cevichería. Success was immediate. And in 2022, he opened Cantina del Tigre. Recognition followed quickly. In 2023, Cantina del Tigre made a stunning entrance at No. 25 on Latin America’s 50 Best Restaurants list and picked up the Highest New Entry Award. The restaurant has held its place there ever since.
In creating this restaurant, Miranda set out to revive ceviche, a dish nearly gone from Panamanian tables, and to reinvent the country’s traditional cuisine through regional ingredients. His centerpiece, the cebiche de mamón chino (rambutan ceviche), has become the house signature. The menu then moves between red rice, lobster tripe, shrimp rice tamale, and well-thought-out vegetarian and vegan options, like roasted cauliflower over hummus or butter-braised cabbage on celery purée. Budget around 50 Panamanian dollars.
My experience at La Cantina del Tigre
The octopus fritters arrive with three sauces: a mustard with a gentle kick, a chili salsa that’s surprisingly mild, and a fresh, fragrant cilantro mayonnaise. On the first bite, I expected to find chunks of octopus; the texture turns out to be completely creamy, wrapped in a good, crisp shell. Meltingly soft inside, crisp and clean outside. You find yourself happily mixing and matching the sauces.
To round things out, I go for a crispy rice with fish and seafood. Right on the edge of burnt, splashed with a squeeze of lime that deliberately covers only half the plate. The fish, fried on top of the rice, adds real depth of flavor to the dish. It’s all about texture. The crispness of the concolón (that crackled layer of rice) against the softness of the fish, over a tomato-based red rice that stays excellent despite its uniformly heavy cooking. The portion is generous and leaves no one hungry.
