Fat of the Land

It’s not unusual for Americans visiting Spain to return home dreaming of the country’s tapas bars: Their legendarily addictive small plates, majestically presented aerated wines, and joy-inducing cocktails are uncommon in the United States, and just one trip to Barcelona, San Sebastian, or Madrid tends to turn visitors into lifelong fans. That said, authentic Spanish items are far more affordable in Spain than here, where tapas restaurants are few in number and generally luxurious, with multiple dishes and drinks adding up quickly. Restaurant owners have learned that Spanish beers, wines, legs of ham, and blocks of cheese are fairly easy to import and serve, but freshly made authentic tapas are not; many use specific recipes and prep tricks that separate traditional versions from “everything else,” so chefs who can deliver them are few and far between. Consequently, near-miss and not close experiences (Cafe Sevilla, Costa Brava, Top of the V, Viva Madrid) dramatically outnumber winners (Telefèric, sometimes Vaca) in and around Orange County, and nothing here matches José Andrés’s Washington location of Jaleo, which is probably this country’s best and most authentic Spanish tapas restaurant.

Thankfully, local restaurateurs here keep trying to recreate their favorite memories from Spain, and occasionally succeed, which brings us to Fat of the Land. Currently open in Santa Ana with an Irvine location planned for mid-2026 (near Izakaya Osen and Sol Mexican Cocina), this 2024-vintage restaurant comes closer to delivering a true Spanish experience than most local alternatives, though as tapas bars go, it’s more authentically Spanish on the “bar” side than the “tapas” one. With seating capacity for 30 people across a marble-topped counter and small tables, it’s as intimate as many of Spain’s historic tapas bars, with similarly bohemian decor touches that aren’t necessarily anchored to a single period of time or country of origin. Roughly two-thirds of its menu is devoted to drinks, notably including imported vermouths, beers, sherries, and wines from Spain and elsewhere in Europe.

Fat of the Land deserves special credit for its tightly curated beverage program. Though you won’t find a classic Spanish gintonic here, the short cocktail list includes a delicious white port and tonic ($13) made with elderflower tonic and Blandy’s Madeira – a sweet Portuguese wine – as well as negroni, adonis, and spritz variations with Spanish and Italian influences. Red sangria ($12) and three imported Spanish vermouths ($13 to $15) are available by the glass; the white La Pivon Blanco vermut we ordered was served traditionally with a speared olive and orange slice, all excellent. Spanish cava, txakoli, verdejo, and rioja wines, Sandeman sherries, and beloved Estrella beers sit alongside various Belgian imports and familiar wine selections from France and Italy. Additionally, non-alcoholic drinks including a Floreale Spritz mocktail ($12) look and taste every bit as nice as the boozy ones.

Small and medium-sized dishes constitute the remainder of Fat of the Land’s menu items – 17 choices on paper, plus 12 somewhat overlapping options listed on a wall at the bar. Having traveled throughout Spain and prepared many authentic recipes, we’ll note that these plates vary from fairly close to somewhat distant approximations of traditional versions. And like the beverage selection, some Italian and French dishes are intermixed with Spanish ones, possibly to ease first-time guests into the Spanish concept, and thankfully without dominating the menus.

As such, items such as Italian castelvetrano olives ($7) co-exist here with Spanish cantabrian anchovies ($16) and marcona almonds (free to each table), basics found at most tapas bars. The only three cheeses on the menu are Spanish manchego ($8), burrata ($17), and mimolette ($10), while meats range from inexpensive spicy chorizo sausage ($8), serrano ham ($10), and Italian salami ($10) to Spain’s famously luxurious jamón ibérico de bellota ($42/two oz.). Tinned fish and seafood (commonly known as conservas in Spain, and less commonly found at U.S. tapas bars) range from $14 to $22.

Just like in Spain, where high-quality conservas are served directly from their tins, Fat of the Land’s razor clams ($22) arrived in packaging spotlighting their Galician origin and La Narval branding, served with toothpicks, dried bread, peppadew peppers, and gherkins; the nearly four ounces of clams were more memorable for their perfectly preserved textures and elongated shapes than their neutral, low-salt flavor. Uncommonly, the restaurant’s pricey jamón ibérico carried no menu branding, and though staff (when asked) said that it was from Spanish luxury ham vendor Cinco Jotas, the surprisingly moist slices we received didn’t have the rich, nutty flavor we typically expect from acorn-fed bellota, which concerned us given the ham’s universally eye-watering price point.