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Upon walking into for the first time, my thought was that the building has sort of a bombed-out-then-refurbished look to it — the exposed-brick walls retain the bumps and design quirks from a previous life as an auto garage, painted gray and framed with iridescent orange highlights and window fixtures.

It’s the latest concept from chef Javier Bardauil of James Beard-honored Barda (which is just across Grand River Avenue).

There’s a heavy emphasis on bar seating; a long row of stools overlooks the bartender station, and another faces the area where much of the cooking happens on a grill over glowing embers.

If you’re looking for a traditional sit-down meal (as in slightly removed from the presence of strangers), there are a handful of tables at the restaurant’s center. But don’t expect to have a quiet conversation there, something my dining companion and I tried to do during my first visit to Puma. Bardauil has always envisioned Puma as a “big bar with few tables” — albeit one that has exceptional food — where you can stop in and make fast friends over a drink in the spirit of many establishments in Buenos Aires, Argentina; or Spanish cities like Barcelona and Madrid. This also means there’s going to be a lot of loud music. Just feet away from our table, the evening’s enthusiastic DJ transitioned from one pulsating techno track to the next — broadcast through Puma’s state-of-the-art sound system.

There’s a symbolic reason the restaurant opened over Movement music festival weekend in May — in part, it’s designed as an outlet for DJs, hosting a rotation of performers who spin everything from techno to hip-hop, jazz, and Latin music in the evenings. It’s not a full-blown Marble Bar or Spot Lite — there’s no designated dance floor — but Bardauil says sometimes the staff has had to move tables outside to accommodate dancing.

By the time my check hit the table, it was dark out, and the place started to get a little raucous. A woman at the 10-top nearby erupted into laughter and shouting after she stood up too fast and sent her chair clattering across the floor.

Whether you’re looking to be on that level or take it in moderation, know that Puma’s drinks menu comprises a rounded and affable sampling of South American inebriants, ingredients, and drinking culture.

Pisco, a high-proof distilled wine that originated in either Peru or Chile (depending on who you ask), lends a fruity flavor to the pisco agrio (pisco sour). Tereré, the classic Paraguayan refresher (a mix of cold yerba mate tea, fruits, and herbs), is transformed into the Tereré and Tonic.

Wines from Argentina, Chile, and Uruguay are served in penguin-shaped ceramic pitchers, or pingüinos, playful wine receptacles that are ubiquitous at restaurants throughout Buenos Aires. On the food side of things, there’s an equally thoughtful smorgasbord — which is likely to please both those familiar with Barda and newcomers.

A section of the menu is dedicated to ceviche, a cold dish that originated in Peru
that typically stars fish or shellfish marinated in citrus juices and seasonings.

From this section, we ordered the aguachile de camarón (a Mexican shrimp ceviche). Served with a deep-fried corn tortilla for scooping, it was exceedingly refreshing and delightfully spicy (if that’s what you’re into); the acidic lime juice marinade seems to absorb the capsaicin from the raw jalapeño and saturate every bite — a rotation of shrimp, thinly sliced red onions, fresh cucumber, and cilantro.

Equally delicious are the Ecuadorian empanadas — smashed plantains with melted provolone on the inside — which are cooked a few times before being deep-fried in tallow for an ultra-crispy finish.

The first main course I fell in love with was the choripán — a sandwich born in Bardauil’s native Argentina. It has many variations, but Bardauil’s is fire-grilled Argentine chorizo and chimichurri (a cold sauce of oregano, parsley, red pepper flakes, garlic, olive oil, and vinegar) on a baguette.

Unlike the bold, smoky, spicy Mexican chorizo I eat rather frequently, Argentine chorizo is comparatively mild but quite garlicky, with paprika and wine. The chorizo at Puma is made to Bardauil’s specifications by Corridor Sausage Co., an Eastern Market meat-packer.

I could have stopped at the $20 base price, but I thought of advice a friend gave me a while ago for ordering: “If you’re acting purely on survival instinct, do you want more of something, or less of something?” While dropping nearly $30 on a singular “street food” item is hardly utilitarian, I ordered with my friend’s methodology, opting for more, adding arugula with lemon juice ($2), pickled cabbage ($2), and provolone ($3).

In this case, more was warranted — the crispy-on-the-outside, fluffy-on-the-inside bread slices could barely contain the toppings, but the extra acidity and crunch made each bite truly deluxe. While the sandwich may be a comfort classic, the quality of the ingredients and execution was immediately evident — the bread was perfect; the arugula was strikingly fresh; and Bardauil’s chimichurri was teeming with the right amount of herbaceous and garlicky notes.

On another visit, I tried a handheld offering (or so I thought) that hadn’t been on the menu previously — the chivito, the national dish of Uruguay. It’s piled high with tallow-fried rib eye steak on a brioche bun, topped with provolone, arugula, delightfully tangy aioli, a tomato slice, and an over-easy fried egg. Like the choripán, it’s well executed, with amazing bread. I would have rated it perfect, but I found it a bit messy, struggling to keep its integrity as I worked my way through. But in being too prideful to use anything but my own two hands on a sandwich, I missed out on the fact that it’s perfectly acceptable to eat a chivito with fork and knife — and that’s what I’ll be doing from now on.

On another messy topic: When I heard the news of the Detroit Institute of Bagels’ abrupt closure, I was a little concerned that Puma, along with other local eateries, wouldn’t have DIB bread anymore (DIB supplied the baguette for the choripán). But I was relieved to learn that former DIB head baker Jeremiah Kouhia is still running a commissary business called The Mother Loaf, providing Puma and others with possibly the best bread in the city.

I’ll end on a sweet note — the dulce de leche, imported from Argentina and covered in peanuts, is a fabulous way to end a meal at Puma. While the drinks, music, and vibes are a big selling point, a talented chef like Bardauil can’t help but offer a memorable dinner from start to finish.

At a Glance

• Price: $$
• Vibe: Fun, social, musical.
• Service: Laid-back but knowledgeable.
• Sound level: Moderate to loud.
• Dress code: Come as you are.
• Open: The kitchen runs Thursday-Sunday from 5 to 10 p.m. The bar stays open till midnight Fridays and Saturdays.
• Reservations: Available online on .
• Parking: Street parking.
• Accessibility: Wheelchair accessible.

Puma is located at . Call 313-819-6804 or visit for more information.��

This story originally appeared in the December 2024 issue of ����vlog��׿��. To read more, pick up a copy of ����vlog��׿�� Detroit at a local retail outlet. Our will be available on Dec. 9.