Tapas and beyond at two spots in the suburbs

A grilled fish taco - made with tuna - at Hola Flatbreads and Tapas in Marshfield. (Barry Chin/Globe Staff)

For a while, sushi appeared to be the new pizza - ubiquitous, with restaurants serving maki and miso sprouting up on every corner. Americans' acceptance of raw fish seemed astonishing. It was just so . . . raw. Now tapas seem to be the new sushi. Americans, we lovers of large portions, are gravitating toward small plates. These days we crave variety as much as we crave abundance. And restaurants that take this into account are sprouting up if not on every corner, at least in places one might not expect.

Take Hola Flatbreads and Tapas in Marshfield and Loco Tapas & Wine Bar in South Easton. Each brings an exceedingly welcome alternative to the suburbs, where a night out often means a beer and a burger at the Ninety Nine or Chili's. That's a fun way to spend an evening, but it's nice to have more sophisticated options.

Hola opened last year in a former ice cream parlor. From the parking lot at dusk, the entrance looks like an exit: The outside lights are still off, and the writing on the glass door faces into the restaurant. Should you go in?

You should. Hola is run by Maryann Saporito Boothroyd and Andrew Boothroyd, former owners of Saporito's in Hull; she's also the chef, sharing the kitchen with sous chef Tara Murphy. Despite the restaurant's mixed mission - flatbreads and tapas and, unadvertised in the name, a selection of Mexican-inspired dishes - its food is straight-ahead tasty. Once you're inside, the parking lot vibe disappears immediately. The space is warm, cozy, and festive. It's painted in shades of rust, with sun-themed decorations; there's a bar up front, and a long table for communal dining in addition to the usual smaller tables.

The tapas portion of Hola's menu is the strongest. Charred rare beef with sherried figs and blue cheese is a knockout. The meat is indeed rare but not bloody, sliced thin and lined up on the plate beside a pile of deep brown figs stewed in sherry and balsamic. The cheese is Stilton when you might expect to see Cabrales, but Spanish authenticity doesn't seem to be the aim here. The flavors of the fruit, cheese, and meat play off one another perfectly.

Grilled shrimp are something you would find at a tapas bar in Spain. They are simple - just perfectly grilled, tender shrimp dusted with smoked paprika. Squeeze some lemon on, and that's all you need.

Ceviche-style tuna is more like sashimi-style tuna. It's good, just not particularly pickled. It goes very well with the pile of spicy cabbage slaw it's served with, however. The fried tortilla strips on top are an unnecessary encumbrance - a few for texture would be nice, but the dish positively bristles with them.

Fish tacos are an untraditional take on this dish. The fish is grilled rather than fried; the tortillas are fried rather than soft. My world's gone topsy-turvy! But even Bizarro fish tacos are still fish tacos, and thus a pleasure to eat. These are made with large hunks of tuna, nicely rare at the center.

The grilled flatbreads that constitute the other half of Hola's name are less compelling; one with artichokes, potato, and queso fresco is fine, but I'd rather have another plate of the charred rare beef or grilled shrimp instead. The flatbreads feel like a nod to those who might be leery of an all-small-plates diet, as well as picky eaters who need to know that if all else fails, there's always pizza.

For dessert, churros are nicely fried and dusted with just the right amount of cinnamon sugar. (Churros, by the way, are the new tiramisu.) The chocolate is a drizzle on the plate rather than a bowlful on the side, and it would be nice to have a bit more for dipping.

Hola has a short but sweet wine list, with a bottle selection that tops out at $45 for an Argentine malbec but mostly hews to the $20s, with many Spanish selections. There's also a selection of cleverly constructed wine and beer cocktails. The Fashionista, hard iced tea mixed with sherry, orange juice, and bitters, is eminently drinkable, as is a white sangria that's a special one night. A liquor license looks to be in hand by the time you read this.

At Loco, the food has a few more ups and downs, but the atmosphere is just as nice as Hola's. And the name is just as reductive - surely our public schools are teaching the español well enough that customers can conclude "this is a Spanish-style restaurant" on the basis of slightly more advanced vocabulary words.

Loco has an excuse. It's named after owners James and Mikaela Messinger's catering business, the Crazy Chefs. And it is a tiny bit loco to open a swank wine bar/lounge/restaurant in a big building that used to be a bakery/diner/drive-through with a marquee touting rye bread and blueberry muffins. (It was nothing fancy, but Dorothy Lou Pastry Shop flipped a decent pancake.) Loco got its start in late 2006 in a smaller space nearby; the new iteration opened in January. The Messingers - he's the chef, with Melissa Batty as executive chef and general manager - have created a dark red lair that always seems to be busy.

One side is a lounge area, the other a dining room, with arched openings in the wall between them creating an open feeling. The lounge features a bar with good bartending, plus plenty of comfortable couches and low tables. Spanish posters hang on the walls. In the dining room, a chandelier sheds warm pink light on the diners.

Loco, too, veers from the tapas mandate, with entrees such as paella and Catalonian seafood stew (served over mashed potatoes?). There's also a section of grilled items. At one end it features a single diver scallop, at the other an entire rack of lamb, and in between steaks that are large and larger, with a choice of rubs and sauces. (Another nod to the leery and the picky.) A 10-ounce marinated skirt steak ordered medium rare arrives far undercooked, and the Loco signature spice rub proves to be on the sweet side, with notes of cumin and anise. This steak is also available tapas size, and cooked just right. The sauces are excellent complements - the Loco steak sauce sweet, tangy, and tomato-based, the chimichurri a zippy green vehicle for garlic.

Much of the food here is garlic-laden. The paella - rice with a good bite, brimming with chunks of chicken, chorizo, and vegetables - features large slices of the cloves. The rice has a bouillon-esque flavor that somehow works. The exact same flavor appears in a small plate of sizzling gambas. We expected shrimp prepared similarly to those at Hola and the tapas bars of Spain, but these swim in broth, flanked by a flotilla of garlic slices. The shrimp are nicely cooked, but there's no sizzle, and the bouillon-esque taste overwhelms here.

Likewise, we expect patatas bravas, fried potatoes, to resemble tapas we've had in Spain. The potatoes aren't crisp but soft, however, and less spicy than expected. They wear a mantle of lemony allioli that adds a nice brightness, as does the tomato sauce hiding beneath the potatoes.

Mozzarella sticks meet Spanish food in a dish of fried manchego cheese, served with an aggressively smoky tomato sauce. The little nuggets might be just the thing to soak up a pitcher of sangria. Manchego takes on American comfort food again with Loco's rendition of mac 'n' cheese: macaroni, the Spanish cheese, and chorizo topped with nicely crunchy, buttery bread crumbs.

There are a few problematic dishes on the menu - gazpacho so thick it could stand on its own, salt cod accompanied by a warmed orange and mint salad that turns out to be two hot orange pieces, a sprig of mint, and a sprig of watercress. Chop the ingredients, don't heat the oranges, add some red onion slivers, a snappy sherry vinaigrette, and salt and pepper, and the salad would taste as lovely as it sounds. Churros are far too crunchy and barely visible beneath a blizzard of powdered sugar.

But overall Loco's food is satisfying, with a nice range for different palates and appetites. The wine list is similar in spirit and price to Hola's, and mojitos and sangria are well made. The area desperately needed a grown-up hangout, and now it has one. Both Loco and Hola have proved that the suburbs are ready for small plates, albeit with a few entrees on the side.