El Mercado de Mariscos

Satisfaction Guaranteed

El Mercado de Mariscos: You may have heard about it, but have you actually eaten there? If not, you’re missing an essential Panamanian culinary experience, whether you live in the city or are merely visiting.

We’ll lay it out for you: The building is a large block, unassuming. Blue and white are the predominant colors, and Japan, being keen on fishing, fish, and countries located near oceans full of fish, had something to do with the construction and establishment of this particular locale, thus the prominently featured Panamanian and Japanese flags, standing side by side, in an expression of collaboration and mutually beneficial commercial ventures.

The building is situated precisely at the end (or beginning, depending on which way you’re going) of the new and impressive Cinta Costera, a recently inaugurated, ecologically friendly, national monument, built entirely on a landfill; formerly part of a bay which, for years was used to treat municipal untreated sewage. Even more formerly it was a pristine mangrove estuary.

(For those of you who are as-of-yet unfamiliar with this majestic gem (La Cinta Costera), consider walking to the Fish Market along its verdant pathways.)

The Mercado de Mariscos, or, Seafood Market, is not merely a Seafood Market, but a cultural center encompassing a whole slew of social and commercial events and institutions. Some of its functions include the following: a dock where fishermen bring their haul in the early hours of the morning; a venue for the occasional government sponsored, alcohol saturated dance and music party; small vegetable and fruit market; wholesaler of the best ceviche on this side of the Isthmus.

It’s safe to say you’ll arrive either by car, by foot, or by taxi, unless you come on a bicycle or a motorcycle. Disembark and survey your new surroundings. Seems a bit rugged at first, but go ahead and step inside, let your senses go wild. If you come during the first half of the day you’re really in for a treat, especially if you have a special affinity for fresh seafood markets and all the associated hullabaloo. This particular fish market is consistently rated (internationally) among the best in the world, full of large steel tables piled high with an impressive variety of incredibly fresh, seasonal sea critters. You have lobster, you have crab. You have five or six or seven varieties of prawn and shrimp. There’s corvina, sierra, pargo rojo, pargo blanco, salmon, tuna, cohinua, bojala, robalo, and guavina. And there’s more; we could go on… There is octopus and squid, and a wealth of shellfish species. Occasionally there’s shark. And we still haven’t named everything.

It is notable that that this market sells strictly seasonal, organic fish. So there you have it, fresh, local, organic, seasonal fish. That’s a pretty good start, wouldn’t you say? And we haven’t even gone upstairs to the restaurant yet. That’s where you eat the fish.

Now we’re upstairs. This is The Restaurant at Mercado de Marisco where, unsurprisingly, despite its almost 30 tables and at least four times that many chairs, the place is almost always packed. You may have to wait to be seated. You may have to grapple for a chair. Another notable fact that this may very well be the only restaurant in Panama City where one can expect to wait for seating. But don’t let this deter you or you’ll miss out on one of the most authentic dining experiences this country has to offer. Ask for a cold one while you wait and gaze over the bustling market below, or lean against the railing and watch people eat; observe the astonishingly diverse milieu of clientele.

If you can fandangle a seat next to a window, we say go for it. The soft sea breeze and stunning views of the immaculate Cinta Costera will offer endless inspiration while you wait for your food. If you're dining alone or with a muse, consider bringing along your watercolor set.

The menus are fixed, meaning they are sandwiched between the table and its glass top. On them you will find an impressive selection of tasty dishes. We have our favorites but won’t pretend like we’ve tried every item on the menu. If you’re looking for suggestions, we’ll offer the following lineup:

To start we usually go Peruvian with a couple Pisco Sours and a few orders of Ceviche Peruano (mixto is darn good, but the straight corvina is a spectacular introduction to this intriguing South American ceviche style, try one of each).

Note: If you detect a subtle resentment from your server when you order the Peruvian instead of Panamanian style ceviche, consider ordering a Panamanian one as well, but only if you intend on finishing it because there’s only one thing worse then not ordering Panamanian ceviche when ordering Peruvian ceviche in Panama, and that is ordering both and not eating the Panamanian one. It occurred to us to add this clandestine advice as we have found some of the waiters to be more sensitive then others. Recall the timeless saying, “the guest of the tortoise has mushrooms for supper.”

If you don’t think the two (or three) ceviches will suffice as an ample appetizer, go for the Jalea de Pescado, or the Jalea Mixta. Disregard the English translation for this menu item, which reads “Jelly of fish”. The Jalea de Pescado is not actually a fish-based jelly, but a fairly large dish consisting of tasty corvina nuggets, lightly fried and served with abundance of fresh minced tomatoes and red onion, with a side of yucca frita or patacones.

For a main course we typically go with a few lobsters, or langosta, as it is referred to in the local dialect. Whether ordering off the menu or selecting your own in the market below and bringing it up to be cooked (see note below), lobster is always a safe way to go. Why? Because its fresh, its local, its organic, its luxurious, and you probably won’t be able to eat it a decade from now due to the rapidly declining health of the earth’s oceans. So seize the day!

When ordering lobster we try to remember to bring our own Danish butter (available at higher-end grocery stores), and a maybe few bottles of good white wine (there’s no cork fee, but bring your own bottle opener). That said, sometimes we just let the chef do his thing. His subtly daring culinary finesse never fails to leave us pleasantly astonished, with our bellies full.

For fear of offending any Crustacean purists amongst our readers it may prove a mistake to mention most mind-blowing meal we have been fortunate enough to eat at the Mercado de Mariscos: Lobster, deep-fried in coconut oil. Fritura de langosta, as it is called, and it must be special ordered. Blasphemous, you say? We say, shut up. This is the kind of thing you don’t think about, just get down there and do it!

Note: A little known fact is that you may select and purchase seafood from one of the many spirited vendors on the ground floor and then take your selection upstairs and request that it be prepared for you to eat. The fee for this service is usually nominal, ultimately depending on the quantity of seafood you buy and how you want it prepared.

Another thing to be aware of when planning to take a meal at the Mercado de Mariscos, which is this: Fast service isn’t one of its high-points, nor should it be, nor do they ever purport it to be. So prepare yourself for a half hour wait post-placing your order. Drink your beer, fool with your watercolors, or chat with your dining partner, but don’t complain because it won’t get you anything excpet maybe some day old fish instead of the fresh stuff. This is the most popular restaurant in Panama City. You are a nobody here, resign to your new temporary status of being just another proverbial fish in the sea.

So go ahead and order your food, but don’t expect it to come for a while. There’s one very hard working chef back there in a small, hot room behind the bar/cash register and he’s working long hours to take you and countless other expectant diners on a culinary odyssey. Ttry to be patient and enjoy the ride.

While on the subject, we have a loose recommendation, or coping mechanism, for anyone who wants to both eat and drink at the Mercado de Mariscos: When you first sit down, order Beer Bucket. Not a beer (singular), but a bucket of beers (plural). The bucket comes full of beer in bottles packed onto a bed of ice. Following this strategy you can finish a beer and then proceed to serve yourself the next one instead of waiting for an overworked server to perform the task for you, which can turn into a unnecessarily lengthy process.

If you do happen to run out of beer and would like to order more, be forthright with your intent. Yes, the waiters are busy, but they also have a job to do. Sometimes they neglect to attend to you as thoroughly as you might like, this is because they aren’t accustomed to receiving tips, thus no incentive to please you. They are paid Panamanian waiter’s wage, which isn’t much. So if you’d like a bit more attention go ahead and slip a twenty to your waiter when he or she is in reachable distance, catch their eye and wink, then order your bucket of beer. They’ll know what you mean and you’ll be rewarded with VIP service for the duration of your meal.

Truthfully, whenever we dine at the Mercado de Mariscos we end up so full after Pisco sours, appetizers, beer and/or wine and our usual multi-lobster main course that, lamentably, we rarely make it to dessert. But one can be sure their Crème brûlée is outstanding. Be adventuresome, try it all.

Let’s end on this note: There are a lot of restaurants in Panama City; a lot of pretentious bullshit and ulterior motives. But amidst the superficiality and money laundering schemes there are a few real jewels, Mercado de Mariscos is one of them, a traditional, honest to god, no bullshit seafood restaurant where value and ambiance are only overshadowed by quality. So leave your stilettos and fancy handbag behind for a few hours, throw on some jeans and a t-shirt and take a walk to the fish market. Let your mind, body, and spirit indulge in one of the most delightful experiences offered in this special little corner of the world.

TOMATO., 4th Street, Casco Viejo, Panama

Rotten Tomato

TOMATO is the latest in casual Casco Viejo eateries. Interestingly, TOMATO is a chain. I saw another one in Albrook Mall, of all places. TOMATO: Soups, sandwiches and salads, I think the sign said. The sign on the new Casco Viejo locale just says TOMATO, in large, red block-letters. The name simple, and somehow modern. Tomato, one thinks, fresh, simple, essential.

We tried the door. To our utter dismay it was locked. One of us motions to try the other door when we hear the first door unlock, we are ushered in.

There is no one else inside.

Not knowing whether to sit and order or order at the counter we awkwardly shuffled around while simultaneously trying to make sense of the massive chalkboard spanning the entire wall above the kitchen, cashier, counter area.

The chalkboard resembled something akin to what you would imagine a severely obsessive compulsive neon-chalk-obsessed child could produce after a rigorous drawing session on a triple-dose of Adderol. Visualize massive chalkboards, side-by-side, they are completely covered with words, every other word is written in a different color of neon chalk, there are little doodles and infantile pictures in between, around, and on top of the words. The words attempt to communicate menu items. Although it is technically possible to decipher these items, the task is overwhelming, causing one to feel as if they are going have a spontaneous epileptic seizure, like those infamous Japanese cartoons.

Realizing that the process of decoding and selecting an item from the menu might be difficult, we decide to sit down.

Embedded somewhere within the maddening cacophony of colors, I thought I saw “Sausage and red pepper” listed under a heading that said “Waffles”. Ok, I thought, that sounds odd, sausage and red pepper waffles? Maybe I’ll try it. After ordering that and a cappuccino I turned to my fellow diners, who had ordered a turkey sandwich with a cappuccino, and nothing, respectively.

Then we got to taking in the rest of the environment. I felt like I was in a miniature model room designed by a drunken primate with a deeply contradicting set of values.

One of the first things I noticed was the prominently featured, bright green, Ecological Oven, which actually said “Ecological Oven” in bold letters across the front, just begging for an inquiry. Also notable was that there were no tomatoes in sight, not even on the menu. You would have expected at least a bowl full of tomatoes on the counter, or next to the cash register, but no.

Instead of tomatoes, all along the front counter was a presentation of every imaginable mini-Kellogg’s breakfast cereal flavor, like the variety packs your family would take camping when you were young, when your mom would always remark at the sheer excess of packaging and sugar. To sort of balance out the mini-cereal box barricade, just behind it, along the left half of the back wall (below the chalkboard) there was an impressive collection of mini chip bags. Your typical to-go mini-mart junk food, loaded with trans-fats, MSG and genetically modified corn derivatives. I began to feel like I was in a gas station. I glanced around for a Slurpee machine, but didn't see one.

The open-face refrigerator (highly illogical and energy inefficient), located at the far right end of the room, was half full of beverages: there was a neat rows of private label TOMATO. bottled water; there was not one, but multiple varieties of Vitamin Water, in plastic bottles as well; and there was Snapple (also encased in plastic). There were also four or five utterly pathetic looking, limp Iceberg-lettuce salads, diminutive portions wadded into bulky (plastic) to-go containers.

And there was this heinous wall-paper, what looked like layers upon layers of totally random, irrelevant images. Like the chalkboard, the wallpaper was basically just a tasteless visual distraction, I would have much preferred to stare at a neutral colored wall or the original calicanto underneath.

Aside from the generic tomato symbol in TOMATO's logo, there wasn't a sign of real tomatoes anywhere, not even a bowl of tomatoes on the counter. There weren't even items containing tomatoes in the menu. If there had been, the tomatoes would have been of a shitty quality.

Just before our food came, one of our dining party (the one who didn’t order anything), asked the waiter, “What makes your oven ecological?” After babbling something brief and totally incomprehensible the poor man proceeded into a five-minute torrent of further nonsense, something about how the oven was ecological because you didn’t need to use chemical products to wash it when it got dirty. It didn’t make much sense to me, but maybe I missed something.

Even though the coffees we ordered were clearly “for here”, they were served to our table in “to-go” cups, complete with little foldout cardboard handles.

And now that I think about it, my sausage and red pepper waffles were served with a plastic fork. (Was the plate plastic too?) Said waffles were barely worth mentioning, but I can break it down real quick. First of all, they were mini-waffles. The two halves of each mini-waffle were sandwiched around a little dollop of minced red pepper and processed meat. There were three of these mini-waffle-sandwiches, crudely served with a somewhat ambiguous white sauce in a small plastic cup. I tried a little bit an it was pretty bad, my best bet is that it consisted of salted margarine and aerosol cheese, 50/50, whipped together and microwaved, eaten warm.

Let me just throw this prediction out there: TOMATO will not last long in its new Casco Viejo locale, unless it is a) loosing money constantly, or b) a money-laundering front, or c) both.

The advice I would give to the people behind TOMATO? (That is, if they are actually trying to create a successful business). 1) Do away with the ridiculous neon nonsense covering your chalkboard. Erase it. 2) Neatly write the menu with a white piece of chalk. Use consistent lettering, as level as manageable. Get some alphabet stencils if need be. 3) Forget the multi-colored scrawl. Keep it simple. 4) Do something about all of the packaged food in your store, i.e. get rid of it. It is simply un-cool to sell so much godforsaken plastic packaging these days. And to display it so overtly is simply retarded. 5) Put a piece of duct-tape over the place on your big toaster oven that says, “Ecological oven”. For any remotely cognizant person that is interpreted to read, “We are full of shit.”

The most interesting thing we saw or experienced during this whole extravaganza was the following sentence written in noticeable, bold letters across a section of the chalk-board: “Tendre que salir a buscar paz en otro sitio.” For those of you who don’t speak Spanish, this means, “I will have to leave and look for peace in another place.” Well yes, yes indeed. Fantastic advice. And with that we left, whether we would find peace, we did not know.