"Chug’s is a great mix of vintage and modern. It has the DNA of a classic diner, but serves food that's exciting and interesting. The interior has a familiar diner aesthetic, with booths and counter seating. The food is the main reason you come here, though. It’s a great call for a quick coffee and pastelitos, but also works if you want to eat like a bear preparing for hibernation. If you’re trying to do the latter, make sure to get the excellent cast iron pancake or La Completa, a hefty plate of three eggs, potatoes, and Cuban toast." - ryan pfeffer, virginia otazo, mariana trabanino
"Known for a mango pastelito that is available year-round thanks to a good community harvest; partner Giovanni Fesser says it was possible "thanks to having 'a great harvest from the community last year.'" - Allison Ramirez
"Chug’s is a Cuban-American diner. So don’t expect a classic version sandwich here. This one’s made in the U.S.A. with Cuban and American parts. Instead of cuban bread, theirs is served on white toast with salami (Tampa-style) and aioli. Then it’s cut in half and seared along the cross-section. But it still delivers on all the flavors we’ve come to expect from a great Cuban: ham, lechon, swiss cheese, mustard, and pickles." - ryan pfeffer, virginia otazo, mariana trabanino
"For many Cuban-Americans born here, Chug’s feels like home. It’s a place where both cultures and cuisines meet to create dishes like malanga latkes and arroz con leche blintzes. This restaurant is the very specific but shared story of millennial Cuban-Americans born in Miami who grew up eating croquetas and grilled cheese sandwiches. Chug’s is the place that asked, “Why not combine the two?” (with onions and a fried egg on top). Dishes rotate frequently, so you might not always find that croqueta grilled cheese, but you’re guaranteed to enjoy something that feels both familiar and completely new: Cuban-American food." - virginia otazo, ryan pfeffer
"Chug’s is Cuban. It’s also American. But more than anything, it’s a restaurant that tells the story of growing up in a Miami Cuban family. Fusion isn’t the right word for this food—it’s the realized dream of every ‘90s Cuban-American kid. Because before we were called Millennials or dealing with our (third?) recession, we were just nine years old, begging our grandparents to make us pancakes for dinner. At their house, abuela served heaping plates of lechon with rice and black beans. She’d say “fuacata” when slapping a banana on the rim and yell at our grandfather to take a break from spying on the neighbors with his binoculars. On special occasions, we’d get burgers from McDonald’s, a Hershey’s pie from Burger King, or El Palacio De Los Jugos’ batidos de mamey. Chug’s menu is built on memories like that. Abuela’s plate is on the menu, complete with a banana on the rim. You can wash down a standard American burger (featuring a familiar tangy special sauce) with a mamey batido. If you want a giant pancake for dinner, have at it, kid. There’s even a BK pie on the dessert menu. And a pair of binoculars, just out of reach behind the terrazzo counter, reminds us it’s OK to be un chismoso. photo credit: Cleveland Jennings / @eatthecanvasllc photo credit: CLEVELAND JENNINGS / @EATTHECANVASLLC photo credit: Cleveland Jennings / @eatthecanvasllc photo credit: Cleveland Jennings / @eatthecanvasllc Pause Unmute Chug’s menu feels like the food scrapbook of a Cuban-American kid’s first road trip through the U.S. It is, after all, run by the same team as Ariete—a restaurant with a much more upscale spin on Cuban food. But Chug’s is more relatable. It resonates with anyone who’s wanted to experiment with their great grandmother’s recipes (at the risk of pissing off her ghost). This food is both sentimental and new. There’s nowhere else you’ll find tostones with burrata or arroz con leche blintzes. You don’t have to be Cuban-American to get Chug’s. Despite being something that could only exist in Miami, it follows that familiar American diner formula everyone loves: bouncy booths, a counter with vinyl stools, and comfort food. But for anyone who’s ever felt trapped between two cultures, Chug’s tastes like belonging. Food Rundown Cuban-American Sandwich This sandwich was made in the U.S.A. with Cuban and American parts. Instead of cuban bread, it’s served on toast. It even throws in salami (Tampa-style) and aioli, but its roots are still cubano and it tastes like one, too. photo credit: Cleveland Jennings / @eatthecanvasllc Arroz Con Leche Blintzes The last time Eastern Europe collaborated with Cuba, we had the Missile Crisis. If only it had produced arroz con leche blintzes instead of world panic. In place of creamy cheese, Chug’s fills these crepes with arroz con leche, and adds a seasonal fruit like passion fruit or mango. The world is in a better place for it. photo credit: Chug's Diner Tostones With Burrata Like so many dishes here, it makes you ask, “Why hasn’t anyone thought of this before?” Scoop the creamy burrata with tangy orange mojo onto a crisp toston. You’ll soon be bringing burrata and tostones to family dinners to try and convert people. photo credit: Cleveland Jennings / @eatthecanvasllc Lechon Ramen Imagine you left Miami for college with a trunkload of Tupperware full of precious lechon. Obviously, you’d put it on everything—including Top Ramen. That’s what Chug’s did, except they make their broth in-house and add a soy egg. photo credit: Cleveland Jennings / @eatthecanvasllc Abuela’s Plate Every Cuban-American kid grew up eating a version of this at their grandparents’ house. Chug’s doesn’t take any creative liberties here. It sticks to the basics: your choice of lechon, pollo a la plancha, or chicharron next to arroz, frijoles, and that trusty banana that should be part of every bite. photo credit: Cleveland Jennings / @eatthecanvasllc Cast Iron Pancake This is a special occasion pancake with an emphasis on “cake.” And it should be treated like one. You could stick 100 candles on this. It’s thick, sitting on a puddle of maple syrup, and needs to be shared with at least two people. photo credit: Chug's Diner" - Virginia Otazo