Dining at Solstice is like being invited to a dinner party at a friend of a friend's house, where would-be strangers become friends from the moment you walk through the door.
Here, you'll find locals and industry (chefs, FOH staff) on their night off sitting shoulder to shoulder with out-of-towners, from first-timers to long-timers. Slurping oysters. Tearing into a loaf of sourdough so springy you're tempted to take one home to use as a pillow. Laughing and sharing the kind of "if you know, you know" tips about little-known trail heads and pop-up DJ sets that flow freely after a glass of wine in good company.
Everyone here is happy to see you, whether, like me, you've come to savor your meal into the late hours or you're simply passing through.
Like skilled dinner party hosts, the staff balance presence with absence so that all your needs are met, and you have the time, space, and privacy to be truly in the moment. They'll deftly guide you through the menu -- the value of the four-course tasting menu for $100 is unmatched anywhere on the peninsula, and agruably much, much farther away -- and the wine list, which emphasizes natural, sustainable, and bio-dynamic wines with stories as winsome as the wines themselves.
But the real reason you've come, whether you knew it already or not, is for the food.
Chef Tim, formerly of Post Ranch and the Big Sur Bakery, takes local ingredients at the height of their season, and from those he says, "now let me show you what Big Sur can REALLY do."
Unbridled by the strictures of any one cuisine, in a given dish you may find those ingredients prepared with French or Japanese techniques, and apotheosized with touches of huitlacoche or house-made XO sauce or urfa or markut lime or parsley oil or.... or... or...
Brokaw avocados are smoked over the open hearth and played off of with early-girl tomatoes, pickles, and a top-secret toasted seed mix I can only hope finds its way onto the shelves in the forthcoming Big Sur Bodega.
A humble dish of rice and beans is elevated with Koda Farms heirloom rice, served both tender and puffed, cranberry beans, tamari-cured egg yolk, nori, and trout roe. The best way to appreciate this dish, once admired, is to break into the yolk and stir everything around like it's your 1pm breakfast fried rice after a night on the town -- unceremoniously and with relish.
Whole lamb are broken down and served as tenderloins cooked to perfection, as sausage stuffed inside cabbage leaves that melt in your mouth, and shredded, pressed, and fried until they're dripping with fat to the point that you may want to think twice about posting that photo you took to Instagram. It could very well be flagged as pornographic.
For dessert, a whole nixtamalized stone fruit, a revelation with its crisp outermost shell-of-sorts and perfectly succulent insides, and a flavor I can only describe as, if you'll forgive the youthful aphorism, the MOST peach.
If it's not too late, close out your dinner tab and take an empty seat at the bar for a nightcap. The cocktails change with the seasons and to complement the menu. Favorites include: a vodka concoction with snap peas, a dirty martini with spruce and pickled ramps, a coconut-washed daiquiri, and a worthy rival of the Tall Southie (iykyk).
And when you are finally satisfied, cross the threshold once more, leaving that feeling of an endless summer day behind and stepping out into the night, already looking forward to your next trip to Big Sur and to Solstice.
And know that when you do come back, you'll see familiar faces, and it'll be as if no time has passed. read more