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 there than here, where tapas restaurants are few in number and generally luxurious, with multiple dishes and drinks adding up quickly.

Though it’s fairly easy to import and serve Spanish beers, wines, legs of ham, and wheels of cheese, freshly made authentic tapas often use specific recipes and prep tricks that separate traditional versions from “everything else.” Consequently, chefs who can deliver true Spanish tapas are few and far between, which explains why near-miss and not close experiences (Cafe Sevilla, Top of the V, Viva Madrid) dramatically outnumber winners (Telefèric, sometimes Vaca) in and around Orange County. Nothing here, north of here, or south of here matches José Andrés’s Washington location of Jaleo, which is probably America’s best and most authentic Spanish tapas restaurant.

Now open in both Santa Ana and Irvine, Fat of the Land 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. The Santa Ana location (circa 2024) seats around 30 people across a marble-topped counter and small tables, and is 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. In July 2026, the Irvine space – hidden in a corporate park courtyard near Izakaya Osen, Rise Bagels, and Sol Mexican Cocina – debuted with two or three times the seating capacity inside, plus roughly as many seats outside. While modern, it preserves many of the original location’s decor elements while eliminating any sense of physical crowding.

Fat of the Land deserves special credit for its tightly curated beverage program. Roughly two-thirds of each location’s menu is devoted to drinks, notably including imported vermouths, beers, sherries, and wines from Spain and elsewhere in Europe. 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), imported French apple cider ($12), and Italian Campari-like Sanbittèr NA aperitif 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. On our Santa Ana visit, there were 17 choices on paper, plus 12 somewhat overlapping options listed on a wall at the bar; in Irvine, around 20 at lunch or dinner, though not always the same choices. 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 small but potent Spanish cantabrian anchovies ($16 for five) and marcona almonds (free to each table at Santa Ana), basics found at most tapas bars. The only three cheeses on Santa Ana’s menu were Spanish manchego ($8), burrata ($17), and mimolette ($10), while Irvine added a young mahòn. Meats ranged 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) ranged from $14 to $22 in Santa Ana, but weren’t listed on Irvine’s menu.

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 on either of our visits, and though staff (when asked) said that it was from Spanish luxury ham vendor Cinco Jotas, the surprisingly moist slices we received on our Santa Ana visit 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. We didn’t re-order on our Irvine visit.

One ibérico item we would recommend, however, was the pork skirt steak ($32) entree, a five-ounce cut cooked medium, pre-sliced into bite-sized pieces, and paired with figs and onions. Thin but tender, this small portion of high-grade Spanish pig had enough flavor to outclass chops twice the size, and each bite with sweet fig was even better.