PANAMA SOCIAL

For its inaugural brief, ate. visited newly-born Panama Social, a South-American styled bar and restaurant at the old Cyril Mason (and older Hans Café) site on William Street in Northbridge. This self-described “neo-tropical realm” is the latest venue from hospo movers and shakers Michael Forde, Paul Aron and Brett Robinson, of Tiny’s and Mary Street Bakery fame. They’ve assembled a team plucked from some of Perth’s more interesting spots; behind the bar is Tom Kearney, formerly of Mechanics Institute, captaining a cocktail list which understandably leans in the direction of rum, pisco and tequila, and on the pans (or, on the night we visited, supervising at the pass in an apron, shorts and what appeared to be his hiking boots) is Chris Howard, late of Freo fave Cook and Mason.

On a weeknight, the large space was slowly filling up as we arrived. Panama Social consists of multiple dining areas - the venue having retained the stone walls and archways of its former lives - and you might find yourself sat in a booth or at a high table, perched at the bar, on one of the large low round tables or even outside in the courtyard – an ideal location to knock back a few Use Your Illusions (Panama’s take on the Midori Illusion, by the shaker) on a balmy summer evening. But there is much that is new about the interiors of this tropical venue – for starters, more indoor plants than a Mount Lawley share-house.

The ferocious foliage did provide an untamed, natural element, welcome against the stone, steel and timber décor. Bursts of colour from the custom-made tables and chairs also catch the eye and brighten the space. Overall the atmosphere is lighthearted and tropical – the floor staff appear to have been encouraged to wear their best florals – thankfully more Rodarte than Review.

The food, then. The menu, we were handily informed, is designed to share, as if we might have assumed that a plate of five pao de queijo for $7 was for solitary consumption only. As it turned out, you’d probably wish you did keep all five of these delicious cheese donuts to yourself. Doughy but not stodgy, these cheesy balls are fried-to-order and come napping on a bed of tangy yoghurt under a blanket of shaved soft cheese. The perfect accompaniment for one (or five) “Snackquiris”, mini daiquiris that are served in a small frosted tea-cup and are appropriately sour, salty and refreshing. These drinks are a good example of how Panama Social is focused on fun foremost – anyone can get a splash of the good stuff without committing to a full cocktail. Next, butifarra ($12); pork collar, ashiote and salsa criolle. This was an interesting-looking plate – the pork collar was laid out carpaccio-style, offset with a generous heap of salsa criolle. The meat was chewy, a bit gummy, and could have packed more flavor, but the salsa – a simple preparation of onion, peppers and herbs – was fresh, citrusy and sharp.

 Is it even legal to open a restaurant in Perth and not have a market-fish ceviche on the menu? We don’t know, but we do know that Panama Social’s take ($18) on the industry’s plat du jour was surprising and delicious. Translucent hunks of nannygai swam in a silky coconut broth, flecked with pineapple vinegar and laced with paper-thin ribbons of choko – a pear-like vegetable native to South America – and red radish. This plate looked gorgeous and tasted fantastic. With the amount of sweet white broth left after the fish had taken its leave of the bowl, it was something of a disappointment the staff didn’t come round with a handful of straws and an assuredly relaxed attitude towards table etiquette.

Next up was the “disco chicken” ($28). If you think you can put a menu in front of me with a dish on it called “disco chicken” and I wouldn’t feel personally obligated to order it, you’d be dead wrong. It also really makes you wonder why bands chose humdrum names like The Arctic Monkeys or Radiohead when they could have chosen the remarkably up-beat Disco Chicken. Missed opportunities aside, disco chicken, in this case, was dismantled pieces of chicken, bone-in, sitting in a dark paprika and turmeric gravy. The bird was soft and fresh and pleasantly cooked throughout, scattered with minced pork sausage, which added interesting texture if not anything too confronting on the flavor front. The sauce needed some more oomph; it was less a disco and more a year 9 dinner dance, with the boys making awkward eyes at the girls from across the gymnasium floor, their desire to shake it to “Hey Ya” stifled only marginally by their desire to not look like a fuckwit. This was hardly a meal-ruining problem, though, and plenty will find comfort in the gravy’s warmth and stickiness. Accompanying the chicken was a bowl of rice and beans ($9), fragrant but not overly oily, and a tomato and mango salad ($11) which was just rough-cut hunks of each, simply dressed in mint and the aforementioned pineapple vinegar. The two-fruit combo may not read as sensible at first, but the mango here was beautiful, imbued with a salty savouriness thanks to the vinegar; the dish was an appropriate foil for the heavier, darker tones of the chicken and the rice and beans. Think: street food without the fist fight.

Dessert came in the form of five alfajors, buttery shortbread biscuits reminiscent of chocolate cookies ($13). In short, this dish was fucking great. The alfajors were offset with quenelles of cardamom ice cream; earthy, perfumed, essential eating. Globs of thick, unctuous guava paste provided tang and tropical sweetness. If it was more socially acceptable I would have run my tongue across that plate like an inebriated figure skater, slurping up the melted cardamom ice cream – it was that good.

The wine list is brief – 6 sparkling, 7 whites, 2 Rosés and 6 reds, and everything (bar a handful of the upper crust bubbles) is by the glass. The wines are mainly South American, as you would hope, and prices are reasonable, but wine isn’t the point here. There is a modest selection of tap and bottled beers, but the cocktails (also reasonably priced) are where it’s at – with a number of them served à la punchbowl for ease of communal consumption. Also, we may or may not be able to confirm that Panama Social does a sublime negroni. Delicious.

 Panama Social smacks of a good time – the space is large, the food and drink impliedly encourages group dining – everyone seems to be having a lot of fun. The dishes, whilst not traditional, are different enough to be interesting, and there are moments of genuine deliciousness where concept and execution harmoniously collide. Authenticity was never the point, according to Howard, who says he doesn’t see the point in transposing authentic dishes in Perth. This is sound logic – far better to keep the focus on accessible food as a foundation for a fun, lighthearted, tropical experience – if you come to Panama Social for that (and bring a few up-for-it mates) you will not leave disappointed.