Run, don’t walk, to South Tacoma for this Cuban sandwich with mojo-marinated pork

It’s dark and moody inside The Church Cantina in South Tacoma, but the food from chef-owner Nicole de la Paz is colorful, both in history and flavor.

Her menu is one of those where you scan it — do I want croquetas? tostones? mojo pork bowl or black bean grilled cheese? the Holy Burrito or the Cantina Cuban? — and then demur to your dining partner: “I’ll eat anything here.”

You would be remiss not to dabble in all of the above, but to eschew the Cubano is to skip the pizza at the pizzeria.

Voyage (in your mind) to Miami, where de la Paz was born and lived until moving to the Seattle area as a child.

“Everything that I do has to just pop,” she said. “It has to look good and taste good.”

The Cantina Cuban begins its life in a sea of a glorious concoction called mojo — not in the vein of Austin Powers but rather the Canary Islands, by way of Portugal. The term, pronounced “moho,” refers broadly to a family of saucy citrus-based Caribbean condiments used as an accompaniment to papas or, in this case, as a marinade to meat.

Three types of citrus — grapefruit, orange and lime — mingle with apple cider vinegar, fresh thyme, cumin seeds, roasted garlic, salt and pepper. After its bath, which can last 24-48 hours, the pork roasts for five hours until it falls easily off the bone, finding its way into one of the Cantina’s signature rice bowls, tacos with black beans and a smoky lime crema, that mountainous Holy Burrito and, of course, the Cantina Cuban.

De la Paz first frizzles smoked deli ham, sliced in-house, on the flat-top with the pork and a ladle or two of the mojo liquid. A classic Cubano takes Swiss cheese and Swiss cheese only, but this chef believes less in being authentic and more in being herself, so she adds Gruyere. Instead of yellow mustard, she whips up Dijon with honey and cumin. Some purists swear this sandwich needs a pat of butter; The Church Cantina instead lays on a garlic aioli. Rather than standard pickle chips, this one rewards with relish.

Nor does de la Paz stick with the common Cuban bread, unable to find one that achieved the textures she desired.

“I’ve tested too many,” she said, “and I’m not a baker.”

Instead she found the winner in an elongated Italian roll from Turano, a Chicago-based commercial bakery, now with five facilities in four states, that supplies a multitude of sandwich shops, restaurants and grocery stores across the country.

She presses it, but only slightly — not nearly as flat as some of the barely-inch-thick textbook examples — just enough that it stays, mostly, intact.

Taken together, the sweet and savory meets crunchy then soft. In de la Paz’s words: “Perfect.”

“I wanted it to be big and beefy,” she said, noting that the original sandwich is actually “pretty straightforward.”

The Cubano’s origin story, like so many famous dishes, is contested, with both Miami and Tampa claiming it was their creation. Tampa seems to have an edge based purely on the timing, but Miami gets credit for hightailing it into the mainstream consciousness of America — so much so that here we are talking about them in the complete opposite corner of the country. What is irrefutable is that it is quintessentially melting-pot American, emerging in the mid- to late-1800s throughout immigrant neighborhoods in south Florida, as the tobacco and cigar industry proliferated.

Born to a Cuban father in Miami who ran a couple of restaurants in Seattle himself, de la Paz has been cooking in Tacoma for about a decade. She started as a dishwasher at HG Bistro and worked her way up the line from the salad station to the lunch cook, brunch to sous, and left, for Dirty Oscar’s Annex, as executive chef. She cooked at Marrow, where an intensive nose-to-tail approach taught her well but eventually led her to the calmer waters of Top of Tacoma under its former owner. Then she opened 3uilt at 7 Seas Brewing, where her namesake sandwich remains — ham, salami, pineapple chutney, chimichurri and sheep’s cheese.

De la Paz has served similar sandwiches at previous posts, but The Church Cantina version is her very own, the restaurant being her first, opened in August 2018 with her husband Adam Jones.

Find the mojo pork scattered about the menu, and a dash of the mojo liquid in a bean dip, and don’t miss the many vegan options.

THE CHURCH CANTINA

▪ 5240 S Tacoma Way, Tacoma, 253-292-0544, facebook.com/thechurchcantina

▪ Hours: Tuesday-Saturday 2-11 p.m.

▪ Details: Cuban-inspired bar food with a twist, plus plentiful vegetarian and vegan options; dining room open, call for takeout