“The Mehra Menu” is a delicious new series from The Lemur, serving up the global adventures and culinary discoveries of Duke undergrad Neel Mehra. From street food stalls to fine dining gems, follow Neel as he bites, sips, and savors his way around the world, one plate at a time.
My first time in Panama City, I was 31 stories up on Luna rooftop with my family, sipping a cold Caipirinha, looking over the busiest skyline in South America. We’d just ordered grilled chicken over coconut rice, plated beside smoky grilled vegetables and ceviche. It was one of those meals that had no right to be that good. But Panama surprises like that: cool and quiet, tucked behind glass and concrete. The view was cinematic. The sharp, glassy skyline of Punta Paitilla, the ribbon of Cinta Costera winding along the Pacific, container ships blinking in the distance, queuing up for the Panama Canal.
I can’t praise Panama City’s gleaming skyline without acknowledging the shadow of dirty money that helped build it. For decades, Panama has been a haven for anonymous shell companies, tax evasion, and illicit financial flows, a reputation cemented by the 2016 Panama Papers leak. That economic opacity (facilitated by lax regulation and U.S. dollarization) means some of the same capital that evades taxes in New York or Caracas funds real estate towers, rooftop bars, and boutique restaurants in Punta Pacifica and Obarrio. It’s the quiet irony of the city: the ceviche might be local, but the money that made the marble floor it’s served on sometimes is not. In a place defined by the circulation of goods, ships, and people, Panama has become expert at laundering not just clothes or dishes, but wealth itself. And yet, in the street stalls, old town cafes, and coastal kitchens, the food remains grounded, reminding us that culture moves differently than cash.
Panama doesn’t print its own currency. It runs on the U.S. dollar, a legacy of American intervention that still defines the city’s economic texture. No central bank, no domestic interest rates, no monetary sovereignty. It’s one of the few places where U.S. fiscal movements considerably direct local policy.
As amazing as the culture is, we obviously need to discuss the waterway that has defined Panama’s identity for over a century. We spent a day aboard the Pacific Queen, traveling the Panama Canal by boat from the Atlantic side up into the Canal itself, through locks and into the vast engineered arteries that were once controlled by the U.S. It was like watching globalization in slow motion. Down on the lowest deck, we found a small buffet–cilantro rice, chicken salad, and soft rolls–simple Panamanian food belied a complex environment.
Panama City’s street food shocked us. Cathedrals of consumption you could mistake for Istanbul or Hong Kong. From buffalo and hot sauce wings that were crispy, messy, and amazing to Helado y Paletas, where I found Indian butterscotch gelato, again in a place I never expected to find it. That’s what Panama City does: it re-exports the global back to you, just slightly changed. Familiar, but offbeat. Local, but mobile.
On our last night, we wandered through Casco Viejo, Panama’s colonial-era old town. Cobblestone streets curved around 17th-century churches and under fading pastel balconies. For dinner, we tried Slabon Panama, a burger chain that felt more like a performance. The meat was flambéed tableside. My burger came liberally sauced with more flavor than any fast-casual place in the States. We split veggie and meat options, all stacked high and absurd. I’ve never seen a place balance American excess and Latin simplicity with such flair. This is a city built on the U.S. blueprint, but flipped, fun, and cultural.
Panama City: Where the skyline races up, the dollar stays still, and ceviche reminds you this is still a place with roots. Panama City is a geopolitical crossroad, and the food is the map. If you want to understand it, I’d say start at the rooftop and eat your way down.
