We ate at Sierra Mar last night and walking into the restaurant really is something. Even without the famous sunset view — we went after dark — the space has an atmosphere that quietly announces you’re in for a good evening. Or at least, should be. The room was beautiful. It was also very quiet, in that way that makes you lower your voice out of politeness rather than anything else.
We chose the standard tasting menu, no extras. Things started nicely enough with “offerings from the garden”: a lentil cracker, a mushroom crisp, and a tart. Perfectly fine. Nothing to write home about, but nothing offensive either. What was less fine was the way the plate was dropped on the table, one tart immediately falling off the little stone it was perched on. Not a disaster, but at this level you want there to be some level of care.
The second set of snacks was essentially a bowl of various leaves — arugula, sweet pea tendrils, a citrus vinaigrette, cured egg yolk. It tasted like someone had walked through the garden and decided to plate what stuck to their trousers. Perfectly edible, just odd.
Then came the “gifts from the sea,” which actually showed potential. The oyster with kimchi dressing was lovely; the sea bass tartlet genuinely good; the abalone ssam confident and thoughtful. And then an unexpected extra: a crab congee-style dish that was warm, soothing, and easily one of the best bites all night. Ironically, it wasn’t even on the menu.
The brassicas with parmesan followed — leeks buried underneath, mustard dialled up to eleven. I enjoyed it. My wife, less so. Alongside came the Ad Astra sourdough with very good butter and olive oil.
But this is where the meal stopped climbing and started plateauing.
A consommé of roasted guinea hen arrived, except it wasn’t a consommé at all. It was a cloudy broth — perfectly serviceable but completely lacking the clarity, depth, or technique implied by the word “consommé.” At $700 for two (tip included), you’re entitled to expect that if they say consommé, they’ve actually clarified it.
The duck brought similar contradictions. The breast was well cooked, genuinely tasty. The confit leg, however, was somehow dry and overcooked — a remarkable achievement, though not in the way they intended.
Dessert redeemed things. The “moss” — matcha, dulce de leche, green apple — was balanced, clever, and genuinely enjoyable, especially with the Tokaji. Petit fours included a chocolate bonbon so salty I enjoyed it, though my wife thought they’d pushed that button too far.
Where the meal really faltered was service. Our main server was excellent — knowledgeable, warm — but stretched impossibly thin, covering more tables than any fine dining room should allow. Other dishes were dropped off by people who didn’t seem to be part of the regular team, as though they’d been drafted in because the evening caught them off guard. It left the whole flow feeling disjointed.
And that sense carried into the cooking. There were clear Asian influences — the abalone ssam, the congee, touches of Sichuan pepper — and these were the most interesting and flavourful moments of the night. They felt like dishes the chef actually wants to cook. The rest of the menu felt like a restaurant trying to meet expectations of what a high-end Big Sur tasting menu “should” be, rather than expressing a point of view. There’s technique, yes, but not enough conviction behind it.
The issue isn’t that the food was bad. It wasn’t. Much of it was good. But at this price, “good” isn’t enough, and inconsistency becomes very expensive very quickly. You feel the weight of the location and the reputation far more than the assurance of the kitchen.
In the end, it was a perfectly pleasant dinner in a beautiful room. It just wasn’t a $700 dinner. At $350 plus tip, somewhere without the pull of the Pacific outside the window, I’d have left feeling reasonably content. As it is, Sierra Mar feels like a restaurant with the ingredients to be far better, if it leaned into what it clearly enjoys cooking rather than what it thinks it’s supposed to cook.
A stunning setting. A few excellent dishes. And a team still trying to find its voice.
Also, the plate the petite fours were served on is probably one of the most hideous plates I’ve seen.
by O_Ksh