Sailing to Canton

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Housed in a shiny chrome traileresque building that was once the Central City Diner, Tasca de Plata certainly stands out. Inside, owner José Montes has Spanished up the fifties Americana with fringed shawls and other Iberian accessories. Photos of his mother, a noted flamenco dancer, abound. His daughters carry on the flamenco tradition, dancing on the small stage here Fridays and Saturdays. Maybe if you squint and drink enough sangria, the vinyl chairs and the tile floor will feel like a beach joint on the Costa del Sol.

I wouldn’t usually drive this far for bar food, but tapas—small, shareable dishes developed over centuries in the tascas of Spain—are bar food of the highest order. A village tasca might have a few simple offerings like cheese and ham, and a street café in Barcelona might have fifty or more. Tasca de Plata has a respectable thirty hot and cold tapas.