Francisca was born in Venezuela. She attended La Universidad del Zulia, owned a chicken farm and cultivated a love of traditional Latin American cuisine during her extensive travels. Francisca is as real as Ronald McDonald. A brand mascot. But unlike the imaginary clown who poisons the world with imaginary eats, Francisca has inspired a menu of Latin soul food that is very much real-deal.
Francisca Charcoal Chicken & Meats is the product of Bocas Group in Miami, a restaurant biz focused largely on Latin fusion. The Orlando location of Francisca is its sixth in a chain and the first outside of South Florida. Despite evidence to the contrary, I’m not entirely opposed to chain restaurants. I just approach them warily, as their focus is often not where it should be. At Francisca the focus is on its Josper oven — and it should be. The Josper is the beating heart of Francisca. Its natural wood charcoal and intense heat kiss dishes across a menu that, like the restaurant’s matriarchal muse, travels from country to country. It makes stops in Puerto Rican arroz mamposteao, Dominican-inspired chicharrones and cachapas, mandocas and tequeños from Venezuela, but all trains leave from Chickentown.
My mind’s eye lied. I read “Charcoal Chicken.” I thought chicken joint. I pictured a place far from the one I entered. Although Francisca encourages diners to focus on its oven, the dining room is hard to ignore. Like most Orlando eateries, it’s located in a strip mall. Unlike most, it’s inviting: a spacious and cleverly lit corner bay, warmly colored with subtle industrial nods, one wall featuring a striking coved ceiling swooping above a full bar serving sexy rum cocktails. It’s a surprisingly polished space well-suited to giving charcoal-roasted chicken the star treatment. Chicken is Francisca’s signature ($19 for half a bird plus two sides) and the signature reads crackle-skinned, moist and heady with aromatics. Bonus points for being antibiotic- and hormone-free.
If you’ve eaten out in Orlando in 2026, you’ve read the word picanha. Tapa de cuadril is picanha which is rump cap steak, and at Francisca tapa de cuadril ($38) is a full pound of slow-cooked goodness. The Josper locks in flavor and melts its trademark fat cap into tender, juicy and spot-on medium-rare beef. It’s my type of meat and no-potatoes, accompanied by red beans and tostones with toothsome crunch-and-give and a glass of Malbec ($11) as a ruby-red cherry on top.
With meat, there is bread. In a previous life, I had a business partner from Bogotá. Frank would bring pan de bono (traditional Colombian cheese bread) into the office every morning that we would slather in guava paste and devour over coffee. A tasty ritual. Francisca’s pan de bono ($8) featured nicely dense crust, a hot springy interior and tasted of wholesome memory.
Roasted branzino ($32) shined in its simplicity — two ample filets with skin blistered picture-perfectly from the grill, playing nicely with sides of fresh sliced avocado and black beans. A dish for people who like fish. I like fish. I liked this fish. We finished with fun-in-a-cup: Venezuelan hazelnut marquesa ($12). Think dense, fudgy mousse with all the silky indulgence that implies. It was a sweet end to a satisfyingly real meal. Too many restaurants lose their food in the fog of concept, content to tell us who they are rather than letting their kitchens show us. Francisca manages to do both, to indulge in a bit of brand fantasy but anchor it in tasty fact.
Francisca Charcoal Chicken & Meats, 12325 S. Orange Blossom Trail, 407-270-9544, franciscarestaurant.com.
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This article appears in Sept. 16-22, 2026.
