Latest / Best of: Features / Californios is 'the best Mexican restaurant in the world.' It only cost me $500.

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Californios is 'the best Mexican restaurant in the world.' It only cost me $500. · Best of: Features

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California's is the best Mexican restaurant in the world, It only cost
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me five hundred dollars. Written by Drew Mugeri. This article is
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being read by an automated voice generated by Everlet. There is exactly
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one three starred Michelin rated Mexican restaurant in the world, and somewhat
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rudely, it's not in Mexico. It's Californios, a four hundred and fifty
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dollar pre fixed gastronomic temple tucked away on eleventh Street in the
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Soma neighborhood of San Francisco. You already know this kind of restaurant
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simply from the price point, which rose fifty dollars since my visit,
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from three hundred and twenty five to three hundred and seventy five
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dollars before tax slash tip slash drinks, and from the fact that
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it got the notice of the fabled Michelin judges this year, who
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went so far as to declare it the best Mexican restaurant in
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the world. Is this the kind of place custom made for its
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patrons to boast about having dined there? Of course. Does the twelve
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course tasting menu include fantasy novel ingredients such as chickweed? You bet
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it does. Do certain dishes come with tweezers? Bitch, you know there
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are going to be some tweezers coming your way. As long as
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Epicureanism exists, there will always be establishments like this one, ones that
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are equal parts thrilling, exhausting, and ultra expensive. But, knowing what you
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and I know about the post COVID world, about the darker side
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of Michelin starred kitchens, and about America's ever worsening income gap, is
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then, kind of restaurant that dollops caviar onto multiple courses still necessary.
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That's where I come in. Because tonight I'll be dining at California's
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for the very first time, if I can find it. I'm not
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lying when I tell you this restaurant is tucked away. As with
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so many restaurants of its caliber Californios, open since twenty fifteen hangs
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no shingle by its entrance. You have to know it's there to
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know it's there, and even Then you can still miss it. I
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know because I just walked right by California's front door without realizing
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it, then had to double back as I stared at the pin
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on Google Maps, then double back again when I walked right by
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it a second time. This is fine dining as speakeasy. No walk
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ins allowed, and the only way in is by securing a reservation
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months in advance. Again, you and
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I know this kind of place Then I saunter through the main
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entrance and am instantly transported. I'm standing inside a stone courtyard dotted
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with luxe wicker patio furniture and potted palm trees. Every muscle in
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my body slackens. A few steps farther, and now I'm inside a
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flawlessly lit dining room with walls painted a deep, rich blue, and
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adorned with vibrant paintings that I'd probably pay a separate entrance fee
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just to stare at. I wish I lived here. The host escorts
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me to my table, and I feel a touch sad to be
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dining alone. This is the kind of place you take her after
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she's said yes, you know what I mean? Californios offers romantic ambience
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in endless abundance. Now I miss My wife. I better stuff myself
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with nine hundred pounds of quail mole and black cod tacos to
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help dull the heartache. Then I get the menu, and it looks
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exactly like a wedding programme. There's even a tasteful photograph of a
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flower affixed to the cover. I half expect to open it and
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see that my meal will begin with a procession to Vivaldi, followed
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by a reading from Corinthians. There's also an autographed welcome card on
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the table addressed to a Brody, which is not My name but
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the name of the person who booked my reservation. My server apologizes
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and promises to get me a new envelope with my actual name
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on it. I tell them it's okay. On this night I'd rather
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be Brody. Makes me feel stealthy. That's enough prelude. Let's get to
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the good stuff, shall we? My evening begins with a flight of
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aguas frescas, strawberry hibiscus soda, canary melon horchata and guava slash kiwi
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soda. I also order a separate a la carte mocktail, a coca
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noza, Mexican Coke with cherry. All of it is delicious. I love
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fancy sodas. My appetite has now been sufficiently wetted, I could eat
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a whole bowl right now. I'll have to settle for a series
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of arty small plates instead. As with many other high end Omakase
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restaurants, dinner at Californios is an overextended affair in which you, the
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diner, must endure an hours long procession of courses, each of which
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includes a little guest lecture from your server before you feel allowed
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to partake. That waiting can prove a bit torturous, but the tease
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is part of the burlesque. So I want help But
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groan with pleasure when I finally get to take my first bite,
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an Anasazi bean soap or beancake topped with caviar. I'm a sucker
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for caviar, and pairing it with this cake, which has been stuffed
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with a gigante bean mousse, is exactly the stroke of genius I'd
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expect from chef owner Val Cantu, who's originally from Texas, and mastered
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the craft of Mexican cooking during a stint working at Mexico City's
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Pooh Hall. I hear another diner say, This tastes like a memory,
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which was surely Cantu's goal. In this mission he is fabulously successful.
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This is food that makes you think, and than makes you want
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to think. But all that thinking tends to make one hungry. Here
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comes more modestly sized appetizers, a blue fin tuna testada that's been
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topped with serrano coins and finishes hot on the palate. It's a
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slow burn that I hope lingers a good long while. Then comes
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a single Dungeness Crab Flauta. I'm a sucker for flautas too. This
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is Mexican food all right, instantly recognizable and yet new all at
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The same time. I want more. I get at it. While sucking
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down the rest of my coconosa, I'm greeted with a disc of
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lobster ceviche sitting in a pool of spicy water, the latter of
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which is far tastier than its name implies. The server tells me
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that I'm free to slurp this aquachile, and I happily take him
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up on the entreaty. Now here's abalone on the shell, which I
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take down in seconds. Every bite here only makes me hungry for
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more. I suspect that even after all of these bravura small bites,
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the Californios kitchen is holding back on the big flavours for the
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later courses. My patience, admittedly, is wearing a touch thin. The quail
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mole and ribeye tacos are still many courses away, and I'm wanting
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to go to there. When on my table what should appear But
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a grilled banana flan topped with serrano ham, date jus, translucently thin
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plantain chips, and, Natch, more caviar. I have never tasted anything like
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this, and likely never will again. In the pre COVID times, experiential
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dining like this was revered to the point of absurdity. It feels
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a bit more crass to enjoy it in a broken twenty twenty
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six America. But man, you eat that flan, and tell me if
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it's a moral abdication or not. I'm sorry that not everyone gets
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to try this, but I'm not sorry that I get to. After
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I lay waste to that savory flan, my server tells me, Now
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we're moving on to tacos, if yeah, we are. Another showstopper follows,
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a single fish taco. But this is no ordinary fish taco. Cantu
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and his staff have battered a rectangle of black cod, aka sable,
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aka butterfish, placed it atop a sourdough tortilla, and then topped the
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fish with a corn smut, crema, and multi pepper salsa. Frying black
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cod is a very evil and awesome thing to do. This is
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the best fish taco I've ever eaten, in part because of The
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aforementioned cod, but also thanks to the sourdough tortilla. I hope sourdough
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tortillas make it off the runway and down into the retail dining
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sector sooner rather that later. It has taken literal hours for me
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to get through these opening acts, and my back is a touch
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sore. I get back up to enjoy the courtyard, plus a bathroom
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that features a toilet with a seat that opens and closes automatically,
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makes me feel like a heavy hitter. Now the kitchen brings out
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the big guns. First up is the aforementioned quail mole, which is
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presented so artfully that I want to hang it on the dining
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room wall, a diamond shaped piece piece of quail breast covered in
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a mole that surle contains nine thirty six separate ingredients and required
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forty seven hours to make. The mole coats the breast entirely, leaving
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only a clean matte finish that reflects they light fixtures hanging overhead.
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To one side of that plate is the leg quarter of that
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same quail smoked, its lower portion wrapped in twine for easy gripping.
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To the other side a bowl of fresh tortillas, not sourdough, crusted
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in sesame seeds. At certain points during this meal, I kept expecting
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a burrito to arrive, because I am long conditioned for a specific
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kind of Mexican food, which, to be clear, kicks major ass. At
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other points, I've wondered if I'd be left so hungry by all
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these small plates that I would have to go purchase, said burrito,
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at another restaurant after this dinner was over. The mole makes all
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of those cravings and worries disappear. I am being both blown away
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and sated all in one go. Ah, but we're not done yet.
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Because after the mole comes a final taco, this one stuffed with
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ribbons of sliced ribeye that are so tender they never catch on
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my teeth. Even better, the kitchen has paired the steak taco with
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a glass of beet juice, as part of the NCA drink pairings
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I ordered to go with my tasting menu, at a supplemental cost
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of ninety five dollars, now one hundred twenty five dollars, that's so
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deep in colour and texture that it behaves like red wine. As
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someone who no longer drinks alcohol and has found all delocalized red
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wines to be rot gut, I'm downright grateful for this glass of
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beet juice to go with my final taco. I don't even normally
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like beets, man. Then again I am not me tonight. I am
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Brody. Brody will F up some beet juice. Now for dessert. Do
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the crumb your table before serving you dessert here? You needn't ask.
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The main dessert is a chocolate alegría, a kind of traditional Mexican
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candy, topped with strawberries, lightly toasted amaranth, and solidified honey bits. Its
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satellite desserts include a blueberry empanada and a scoop of almond ice
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cream, which, when eaten in tandem, is the kind of dessert I
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would like to eat every night until I'm dead. They spoil you
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with desserts at Califurstio's, right down to the candied mandarin segments that
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come with my check. It's late now, far too late, but I,
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the mysterious Brody, will be heading back to my hotel room more
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than satisfied. If not conflicted. Again, this is an extremely pricey restaurant,
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an exclusive one, so while I had myself a grand old time
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at Californios, even without a proper date sitting across from me, I'm
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still left to wonder if this sort of restaurant can exist in
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the twenty first century, and if It even should. Does the world
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still
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needs restaurants where the starting price is about the same as a
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fancy hotel room where every course comes with its own special set
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of utensils, and where any question you ask about your food will
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get you a crisp paragraph in reply. Isn't this all a bit
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ostentatious? Do we really want a place like this to still have
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cultural purchase? After thinking about it, my answer remains an unequivocal yes.
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Yes, sitting for an hour's long dinner is kind of an ordeal,
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and the money spent by customers here would be better spent on
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helping the destitute, and maybe not every restaurant should have a menu
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that literally includes pages worth of end credits. Would I have preferred
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to eat all of Californios dishes from an a la carte menu
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over successive and much more brief visits? Of course. But then Cantu's
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restaurant might not have gotten quite as much notice from Michelin, which
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still represents the vanguard of the fine dining establishment. It may not
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have been recognized as three star runway food. And runway food of
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the highest Michelin rating still needs to exist for the same reason
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that all high art needs to exist. The world, no matter what
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condition it's in, will always need people who feverishly labor to give
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others something they've never experienced before. People who act as credible tastemakers
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in the greater culture for the coming years, if not decades. That's
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especially true in the case of Californios, because it has given Mexican
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food long overdue representation in the highest stratosphere of culinary gatekeeping. It's
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the first three star Mexican restaurant in the world, but it will
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not be the last.