Panamanian Cuisine

Not all food south of the Río Grande is Mexican even though we Americans tend to anticipate that it will be. Although Panama does have plenty of Mexican restaurants, the food here is definitely not known for its spice; however, the country does have a distinct cuisine, which reflects its own peculiar ethnic mix and geography.

As the self-described "crossroads of the world," cosmopolitan Panama City has been a magnet for immigrants who have brought their cuisines here for the past century. While there are few types of food you can't find here, Chinese, Italian, Greek, and American restaurants dominate the ethnic-restaurant scene in the city, with a smaller selection of Peruvian, Argentine, Japanese, and Middle Eastern eateries among our favorites.

Outside Panama City, lunch is usually the big meal of the day, whether at home or in a restaurant, and it is almost always a good value at mom-and-pop eateries. Your best bet is usually a hearty, filling combination meal called a casado, meaning "married." It consists of a main dish—usually beef, chicken, pork—accompanied by rice, black beans, and cabbage. An upscale restaurant makes use of the casado concept for lunch but makes it all sound a bit more highbrow—more expensive too—calling its prix-fixe menu the plato ejecutivo ("executive plate").

The heart and soul of Panamanian gastronomy lie in the provinces, however—no surprise there—and sampling a few signature local dishes can be a highlight of your trip here. You'll find a more ample selection of típico food in rural areas. Searching for the country''s signature carimañola in the capital might be akin to asking for corn fritters in New York.

So what are carimañolas exactly? One of Panama's signature dishes consists of yucca, ground and boiled and made into a dumpling, or fritter, and filled with minced beef or chicken and pieces of boiled egg. Carimañolas are a Panamanian breakfast staple.

Sancocho is the other dish that has "Panama" written all over it, though you will also find it on Dominican menus. This chicken and yucca soup—some cooks make it thick enough that it qualifies more as a stew than a soup—is flavored with culantro. (Think "cilantro," but slightly more aromatic; it's a common flavoring used all over Central America.) As with your grandmother's chicken soup, sancocho is reputed to be good for whatever ails you. (Many swear by its supposed anti-hangover properties.) It can also be a surprisingly cooling dish to eat on a sweltering day. (We'll credit the culantro for its cooling effect.)

Several countries in the region, most notably Cuba, claim the descriptively named ropa vieja ("old clothes") as their own. As with putting on old clothing, a Panamanian cook uses whatever is available and left over in the kitchen to spice up a dish that is, at its most basic, shredded flank steak with rice and tomato sauce. (Ropa vieja is one of the few exceptions to the "Panamanian cuisine is not spicy" adage.)

Panamanian cooks make a variation on Mexican tamales—the singular is tamal—with a filling of chicken, peas, onions, and cornmeal boiled inside tied plantain leaves. Tamales are a cinch to reheat and serve—you eat the filling but not the leaves, and certainly not the string—making them a popular, convenient food to prepare in batches in advance and serve at Christmastime. Some cooks here make what they call a tamal de olla ("tamal in the pan"), with the same ingredients, but not wrapped in leaves and served immediately.

Also easy to prepare in advance and, thus, a staple for any holiday, are empanadas. Every Latin American country claims its own variation on this recipe. Panamanian cooks make semi-circular empanadas with a filling of ground beef and cheese fried in dough and served as appetizers. Caribbean cooks often add plantain to the filling.

Accompaniments to a meal are many. Almojábana, a corn-flour bead, is a staple, as are patacones, green plantains fried golden brown and salted and pounded into crispy chips. Panamanians sometimes prepare patacones with breadfruit, but plantains are the hands-down favorite here. Hojaldras make a tasty side dish to any breakfast. When made sweet and sprinkled with powered sugar, you'll liken this Panamanian fry bread to doughnuts, but they are just as often prepared with ham and cheese too.

Since the country has some 1,500 miles of coastline, seafood is a naturally popular staple. (What else would you expect in a nation whose name means "abundance of fish"?) Corvina, a white sea bass, figures prominently into the cuisine here. It frequently shows up as the main ingredient in ceviche (sometimes spelled cebiche or seviche, among several spelling variations). Whatever the cubed pieces of fish or seafood used—shrimp and octopus are less common here—ceviche, Panamanian style, is marinated in lime juice, with onion and celery and sometimes hot pepper. It is served chilled as an appetizer. (Latino groceries in the United States frequently stock imported Panamanian ceviche, worth a pre- or post-trip sampling.)

Hearty Panamanian food gets washed down by some distinctive beverages, too. Seco gets distilled from sugarcane. Smooth it is not; "firewater" might be a better description for the drink. Its kick is most commonly tempered with milk in a popular beverage drunk chilled in the provinces called seco con leche. On the other hand, flavorful chicheme, does go down very easily, as you would expect of a blend of milk, cornmeal, cinnamon, and vanilla. Beverages don't come more basic than the ubiquitous Panamanian pipa. Poke a hole in an unripe coconut, stick in a straw, and you have a refreshing drink of coconut juice. Roadside stands everywhere sell them.