The main topic of conversation in Montecito these days is restaurants, and understandably so. In the past, you could realistically hope for one new restaurant per year—and then four debuted in the space of two months.
Two of the newcomers, RH Firehouse Grill and Clark’s Oyster Bar, are chains that have almost certainly been inspired by the success of the Hillstone Restaurant Group, the company behind Honor Bar and other brands. Hillstone, which focuses on affluent areas, is famous for consistency, efficiency, hospitality, and comfort food. I know several hands-on restaurateurs who love Hillstone establishments because they can’t abide a poorly run operation. “We know we can relax there,” said one recently.
Sure enough, the RH in Montecito has nailed the service. Management brought in staff from outposts in Palo Alto, Palm Beach, and elsewhere to open the restaurant, and while many of them have probably returned whence they came, the service is on point. RH does nice things that are uncommon around here—refreshing silverware between courses, proactively splitting dishes in the kitchen rather than leaving it to patrons, providing bread for free upon request. There’s even complimentary valet parking, which is handy, since the owner of the two main parking lots in the Upper Village is threatening to tow RH customers who park there.
Beyond the service, RH is less captivating. Once you’re inside the terrific Old Firehouse building, and past the furniture blocking the entrance, you could be anywhere. (The Hilton Tulum?) The interiors are relentlessly generic; beyond the flattering lighting, I can’t remember one detail about the monochrome decor. It’s comfortable, to a point—I’ve been cold whenever I’ve dined there, inside or out.
My personal bias is so far away from RH’s menu that I have difficulty choosing. Every dish is what I think of as a defensive order—something I might risk getting at an airport. Some of it is fine, or even good, but none of it is interesting. And I don’t believe any ingredients are seasonal or local. (Exhibit A: the wan tomato accompanying the burger.)
Other people don’t seem to mind these issues, because the restaurant is clearly doing well. Its Upper Village location can’t hurt: much of Montecito would rather not have to brave Coast Village Road, particularly after a glass of wine or two.
The local outpost of Clark’s Oyster Bar has oodles more personality. I’m not sure what the very Jeff Shelton building has to do with the seafood-shack decor inside, but at least it’s trying—and you wouldn’t see it anywhere but Santa Barbara. Enthusiasm for the concept shines through in the anchor insignia on the plates, the semaphore coasters, the servers’ needlepoint belts with “Clark’s” written on them, and so on. But there are also moments, such as the garish blue aquarium light behind the host’s desk and the B-for-busboy emblazoned on sleeves, that suggest a moodboard run amok.
The menu is more ambitious than RH’s, but while I’ve enjoyed some dishes—the salads are a standout—others have been forgettable. To the restaurant’s credit, it has an on-site bakery (with free bread service) and a legitimate dessert menu, versus RH, which only offers ice cream.
The cheery, capable service at Clark’s can come off as too well-oiled of a machine. Ordering snacks is suggested as soon as you sit down; plates get whisked away the second you finish. One dinner took all of 50 minutes (and we had even started with a cocktail); at a recent lunch, our food arrived five minutes after ordering. Efficiency is crucial to hospitality… until it becomes detrimental. Even though I’ve never been to the Clark’s in Austin, Houston, or Aspen, the Montecito one feels like a chain restaurant to me. A high-end one, but still. Perhaps time is the magic ingredient.
I’m willing to forgive a bit more in an original concept. The Good Lion folks set expectations awfully high for Lion’s Tale, their bar-with-food inside the Montecito Inn, declaring that they were inspired by the great hotel bars they’ve visited around the world. Maybe I’ve simply been to fancier bars, but if you go in hoping for Bemelman’s or the King Cole Bar, you will be disappointed. The Montecito Inn will never be mistaken for the Carlyle or the St. Regis.
What Lion’s Tale has in spades is conviviality. It’s definitely more of a bar, with an emphasis on cocktails, than a restaurant, although the food (by Ryan Simorangkir and Tyler Peek of Sama Sama) transcends mere bar snacks. I’ve enjoyed the steak frites—in a luscious Café de Paris sauce—both times I’ve had it; at $36, it’s among the better deals in town. I do wish there was a vegetable on the menu besides the salad. Potato pavé, “layers of thin potatoes cooked in butter, cream, and thyme [and] served with crème fraîche,” does not count.
Also in Lion’s Tale’s favor is the sense of spontaneity. The establishment is not afraid to try things—there’s jazz on Wednesday evenings, and on another recent night, Brazilian Carnival dancers performed—and no one has to check with upper management first. (Related: what a treat to have someplace you can walk into.) That said, I will always prefer a time-tested classic cocktail over a new interpretation; apple brandy has no place in my idea of a Manhattan.
Bar Lou also earns substantial points for originality—it’s not easily describable as any particular type of restaurant. I find that exciting, but I’ve heard complaints that the menu, with its myriad influences and mysterious portion sizes, is hard to get a grasp on. It works better if you’re sharing, since the kitchen wants to send out food when it’s ready as opposed to when you might like it. Either way, I’d recommend the smoked black cod smørrebrød and the chicory salad with Manchego, dates, and pecans. And while the steak au poivre with frites is delicious, its $68 price is harder to digest.
I’m on record that the atmosphere, outside and especially inside, is a major improvement over Oliver’s—aside from the Costco-style furniture around the fire pit, the deck above street level is the loveliest place to dine in the Lower Village. (I can’t wait to have lunch there.) Like Lion’s Tale, Bar Lou has a lively atmosphere, aided by the dedicated bar area; unlike Clark’s, you’re at no risk of being rushed out, because the service has a tendency to come and go.
And I hold out hope that Bar Lou might evolve. Too many restaurants around here get stuck in a rut, refusing to update their menus very often or even throw in a couple of specials. I’m sympathetic about the challenges of running a restaurant, but I do believe it’s better for everyone if you can keep things fresh.
These four restaurants are merely the start. At least seven more are expected to open in Montecito in the next year or so: Little Mountain where the Montecito Wine Bistro was, Thomas Keller’s revamp of the former Tyde’s at the Coral Casino, Ospi and Bogavante at The Post, Nobu and Bouchon Bakery at the Biltmore, and the S.Y. Kitchen–ish establishment at the Via Vai space. I can’t wait to see how each of them turns out. No matter what, one thing is certain: you will have to pay for the privilege of dining in Montecito. I’ve seen the future, and it ain’t cheap.
P.S. As always, go check the restaurants out for yourself!
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