El Bacano, LA's only Dominican restaurant, offers meaty, comforting delights

Jonathan Santana opened the only brick-and-mortar Dominican restaurant in the Los Angeles area last summer. However, he was a teenager in the 2000s when he first thought that his family's recipes could be the basis for a business.

Among his eight siblings, his mother Maria (nicknamed “Machi”) was known as the one with the golden hands at the stove. Jonathan's friends came over after school expecting Machi's flaky empanadas or fragrant braised chicken. They loved her food so much that when she wasn't around they didn't exactly joke about her willingness to pay her to cook.

The family lived in Anchorage. They moved there when Jonathan was five years old, not long after his maternal grandparents sponsored the family's immigration to New York from the Dominican Republic. Other aunts and cousins ​​had already moved to Anchorage because of the job opportunities and relatively low cost of living.

In 2010, the Santanas took the entrepreneurial plunge and founded Nina's in a Box, named after both Machi's mother and the trailer they operated out of. Machi and Jonathan's older sister Deany ran the kitchen; Jonathan and other relatives helped wherever needed. The menu included chicken soaked in soy marinade and then steamed or fried with rice and plantains, as well as pork chops with similar flavors and the occasional heavily seasoned burger with shredded cabbage for a slight crunch.

Nina worked in Anchorage for four years. Jonathan credits Alaska's harsh winters, working in a thin-walled structure, as a big reason why everyone eventually wanted to move on.

Almost a decade later, history began to repeat itself. Jonathan spent time with friends in Los Angeles. He cooked the family recipes, and people mentioned that they were dishes they would shell out money for.

He also wondered: Where were the Dominican restaurants in LA? Weekly pop-ups like El Coro Cafe in Glendale and Dominicans just outside of downtown represent the cuisine, and a food truck specializing in Dominican cuisine called Karibbean Cuisine is parked in Mid-City. Jonathan envisioned a brick-and-mortar spot with a few tables, focused primarily on takeout, that felt well insulated from the weather, even though the climates in Southern California and the Alaska Peninsula couldn't be more different.

Jonathan recruited Deany as a chef for the project. In August, the siblings began the next chapter of the family's restaurant tradition with the 16-seater El Bacano in a North Hollywood shopping center.

They open their doors at lunchtime, but serve a typical Dominican breakfast that's comforting at any time of day: mangú (mashed plantains) with Los Tres Golpes, or “the three hits”: two fried eggs, grilled slices of salami, and thin rectangles of queso frito. A staff member will ask you whether you prefer green or ripe plantains, and my answer is what the Santanas recommend: a mix of both.

Their overall consistency is simultaneously smooth and gently textured, and the flavor leans slightly towards sweetness, although pickled onion slivers extend above to steer the overall flavor back towards savory. The yolks are runny, if you just ask for the eggs the speckled salami has burst and the cheese squeaks a little between your teeth.

At El Bacano, it's also possible to order mangú in combination with other meats from the menu, reminiscent of how Puerto Ricans often serve their main dish, mofongo – green plantains that are usually fried and mashed into a garlicky pulp. However, Mangú con los tres golpes is a national signature for Dominicans; Start here as a starting point.

Plus, the meat dishes deserve their own spotlight, and a less dramatic background of rice frames them perfectly.

Most come from the marinade on which Nina's menu was based: an infusion of lime juice, onions, garlic, oregano and other spices. I particularly like Santana's chicken, Jonathan's rebranding of the classic Dominican pollo guisado. The bird is heavily browned—the siblings won't reveal any of their family secrets, but a common technique is to add sugar to the oil to achieve such depth of color—and then simmered with thinly sliced ​​peppers in some of the liquid that is created Broth. , strong sauce.

Typically the dish consists of chicken thighs. The thoroughly braised meat almost falls away from the bone on its own.

Like most main courses, the plate includes a small salad, soup beans and white rice. For an additional $2, you can upgrade to moros – an abbreviation for moros y cristianos, rice and beans cooked together, referencing the 700-year conflict between Moors and Christians in Spain that began in the 8th century . The culinary term is common across Caribbean Latin American cultures and is a direct reflection of Spanish colonization. Deany makes several variations, with black or red beans or pigeon peas and sometimes enriched with tomato paste, which change throughout the week. I appreciate their subtle layers of spice.

I would also like to point you in the direction of La Bandera, marinated beef braised with the rich flavor of pot roast. Its name refers to a ubiquitous Dominican lunch plate of beans, rice, and meat that (with a little creative license) evokes the red, white, and blue colors of the national flag.

Avocado disrupts the patriotic palette, but it's a staple of Dominican dishes, and the staff at El Bacano will ask you at least once if you'd like a side dish. Its silky charms harmonize everywhere: with the crackle of fried chicken; pushed under the bun of the cabbage-topped burger, which was covered in mayonnaise and ketchup; or puree into the rice, which will collect the tomato juice from sautéed bacalao.

A few welcome slices also lighten the weight of sancocho, another Dominican specialty. Chunks of pork, beef, and chicken merge into a stew with plantains, corn on the cob, winter squash, and yautia, a root vegetable sometimes called malanga. The spices are reserved, the flavors straightforward. During the last few rainy weeks in Los Angeles, Sancocho warmed me up mightily, especially with generous, lightening shots of hot sauce. The restaurant presents three brands on its tables.

My one big complaint: Whether you're eating takeout or eating in the dining room, everything at El Bacano is served in to-go containers. Sancocho should be spooned out of a suitable bowl, and the pollo guisado's meaty juices must pass into the rice and not remain trapped in a Styrofoam compartment. The food is easy to transport, so I've made a habit of taking meals home and preparing the dishes to make sure they taste their best.

Jonathan says he expects a diverse crowd in the restaurant's first year, but is happily surprised to see Dominicans traveling from all over the region, grateful and nostalgic for the smells and tastes. “It’s going well, so I’m hoping to open a second location with twice the space and a bar where we can serve Dominican spirits,” he says.

Next time he assures me that he will invest in dishes that match his mother's recipes.