The food is Spanish, but it’s also Japanese. You can linger over prix fixe, or swing by for a bag of granola. The din of the dining area promotes private conversation, but the same room morphs quickly into a bustling community space. Pagu is a series of juxtapositions—the result of a curious soul channeling her eclectic formative experiences into a passion project.

Late-night popup star chef, gastronomic science teaching fellow, and “ramen wave” hairstyle icon Tracy Chang opened her first brick-and-mortar restaurant between Central and Kendall squares in early 2017. The young local was ready; equipped with a degree from Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, she’d also spent time in the kitchen at Restaurante Martin Berasategui, a three-star Michelin spot in San Sebastian, Spain. It’s no surprise, then, to see the leg of jamón Ibérico proudly festooned to along the chef’s bar, waiting to be sliced and splayed atop tomato-rubbed pane, or steaming plates of crispy, hot, melt-in-the-mouth croquetas being ported to diners sipping gin and tonics.

But Chang also draws from experiences closer to home. Growing up, she worked the cash register in a Japanese restaurant owned by her grandmother Chin-Fun Shuie, a Taiwanese immigrant. (Maybe we have Chin-Fun to thank for the Childhood Fried Rice, a nostalgic mix with Taiwanese sausage, egg, diced carrot chunks, and peas.) Chang ventured back into the culinary world while studying finance in college, landing a stage and then a line cook position at acclaimed sushi restaurant O Ya—not bad for a first kitchen gig. Years later, she’d team up with O Ya coworkers to found Guchi’s Midnight Ramen, a popup offering the famous pork belly and homemade noodle soup that’s now a permanent fixture on Pagu’s menu.

Izakaya and tapas already have plenty in common—snackability, vibrancy, compatibility with booze—but Pagu fuses them further to hammer the concept home. Our favorite example might be the Cedar Campfire Cod: The fish is baked between sheets of cedar and presented exuding aromas of smoky Spanish wood—with an umami boost from shiro miso and an accompanying seaweed salad. The menu never crosses the line from fusion to kitsch; plenty of other plates, like the salmon crudo or the tortilla, keep things relatively simple. Meanwhile, dishes like the Squid Ink Oyster Bao and Cheesy Wafflato, conceived with a healthy dose of creative instinct, are solidifying Pagu’s position as a local classic.