From Mexico to Philadelphia: Cantina La Martina Is a Journey of Flavor

From left: Camaron suizas; Chef Jiménez preparing barbacoa in the backyard of Cantina La Martina. / Photography by Michael Persico

I don’t know where to start but with the thing that everyone talks about: Cantina La Martina exists in a piece of Philly hit hard by the opioid epidemic. It’s on the corner of Kensington and D, and there’s just no way around that. There are needles in the gutter, the scars of campfires on the sidewalks, some of the city’s most abandoned on the same block. It’s hard to look at, and it should be, because ignoring it helps precisely no one.

But then there’s the other thing everyone talks about: that Dionicio Jiménez has created something here that is remarkable — one of the best restaurants in the city in one of the most challenging places it could be. Calling Cantina La Martina an oasis is insulting, because it’s fully part of this neighborhood — with its Mexican music and weekend events on the fenced patio, killer happy-hour deals and Taco Tuesdays. In Cantina’s first year, Jiménez was a James Beard Award finalist for Best Chef Mid-Atlantic. Now, in its second year, he’s received another nod from the foundation, this time for the national honor of Outstanding Chef. And that all makes sense, because everything he makes in this kitchen – ­everything he touches – becomes the best version of that dish you’ll ever try.

Diners enjoying bites over margaritas

The camaron suizas–the shrimp curl like pink corkscrews inside the loosely rolled tortillas, topped with pickled red onions, doodles of Mexican­ crema, melted queso fresco, and, most importantly, this amazing­ creamy-white salsa verde flooding the plate and holding­ everything together. It turns the fluffy white rice served in a bowl on the side (half a bowl, really) into a star all on its own, the smoky black beans (in the other half of the bowl) into a garnish, and the entire dish into something that makes you put your elbows down on the table and focus — that makes you scrape the plate with your fork to get every last drop.

The rest of the menu is just as good. Every plate shows the steps Jiménez has taken over decades in the business — as a dishwasher, a line cook, Vetri’s sous-chef, Solomonov’s opening chef at Xochitl, Starr’s exec at El Rey — and what he has learned along the way.

Who else is going to attempt a Mex-Italian fusion like Jiménez’s siete mares riff on the traditional Feast of the Seven Fishes (done as a soup), or his food-nerdy red pozole, studded with chunks of tender pork and hominy and lime and jalapeño and threaded with ramen noodles? It was actually the ramen that got me into Jiménez’s dining room the first time, months ago, because I thought something like that has no safety net. It either has to be laughably bad or so good that it colors the entire menu — offering depth and a sense of humor bordering on whimsy.

Needless to say, it was the latter.

The kitchen’s tacos are monsters — street tacos given center-plate status, overstuffed and tightrope-walking that narrow line between upscaled and overcomplicated. All of them are good. The camarones (again) and the cochinita are great — the shrimp because they’re plainly influenced by that beach-bum vibe so many city taquerias reach for and miss, and the cochinita because that’s where Jiménez and his kitchen get to show off.

Noodles at Cantina La Martina

There’s an achiote braise that turns everything orange, a slow cook for an almost impossible tenderness, hints of chili and lime and black pepper, pickled red onions for a little acid brightness, cabbage for crunch (I always pull that off), and then the house’s pulpy, electric green salsa cruda that tastes like no other salsa cruda I’ve ever had, like spicy garlic, kinda; like hot tomatillo with a savory top note. That’s good times, right there. That’s a dish you talk about.

But two years in, and there’s still the conversation: Why this neighborhood? Is it really worth going?

And the answer is yes, obviously. Yes, if you’re comfortable enough. You walk in out of the tragedy and into the vibrant barroom, with its brick-backed long bar and exposed beams. The El rattles the walls, the radio plays MGMT’s “Time to Pretend,” and you can sink into the easy comfort and infectious joy of this room and forget everything else.

Cantina La Martina’s dining room

You shouldn’t, but you can. For a little while, anyway. But the world is still waiting outside. And while it’s beyond asking one restaurant to fix a problem as entrenched and multi-faceted as what exists outside the front doors, in a community that has had so much taken away from it, Cantina La Martina is giving a lot back.

They’re here. They’re part of the neighborhood. And they’re not looking away.
4 Stars — Come from anywhere in America

Rating Key
0 stars: stay away
★: come if there are no other options
★★: come if you’re in the neighborhood
★★★: come from anywhere in Philly
★★★★: come from anywhere in America

Published as “Cantina La Martina Is a National Treasure” in the April 2024 issue of Philadelphia magazine.