Published December 2009
Orange County has four seasons, all distinct and dense with quirks that rally the senses. Those were my thoughts as I soaked in fall’s first gloaming over a glass of Chablis, gazing at an epic Pacific sunset from the bluff-top fire pit at Studio at Montage Laguna Beach.
As we watched rabbits nibble their twilight dinner, my compadres agreed: It doesn’t get any better than this. Our dreamy reverie would be disrupted soon enough, but this initial encounter felt divine.
The spectacular magic of Studio’s setting cannot be oversold—this is arguably one of California’s finest oceanfront dining scenes. Any lavish resort should be so lucky as to exploit this intrinsically gorgeous Laguna Beach promontory, pushing into the surf and backed by craggy coastline. Set alone on the outcrop, this “cottage” feels like a sanctuary, its tidy
Craftsman architecture abundant with windows and enchanting patios.
That said, Studio aims to be a temple of gastronomy. So when inaugural executive chef James Boyce departed last spring, he vacated a plum position, filled in June by Craig Strong, who won a Michelin star for The Dining Room at Pasadena’s stately Langham Huntington hotel. Strong’s appointment underscores the significance of elite cuisine at the Montage.
The new chef is confidently making the ultraseasonal, tightly edited menu (six-starter, six-entree, one-tasting lineup) his own. His kitchen palette is crowded with premium choices and his foragers obtain the finest harvests from local sources such as Chino and South Coast farms. Old ties and strong connections yield goods such as Jersey butter from Petaluma’s Spring Hill creamery, and scarce razor clams direct from the boat that supplies Santa Monica Seafood.
Strong applies French technique to dishes populated with California
ingredients, so his cooking straddles both worlds, but with modern twists.
Like the French onion soup starter that includes a salad of glistening
frisée, and haricots verts crowned with a raw quail egg, alongside a teensy
tureen steaming with a deep-amber potage spiked with Serrano ham. It’s
comfort food made chic. And pricey. If $28 seems high for the onion soup,
don’t even contemplate the $65 sunchoke lasagna, a blatantly extravagant
starter with house-made pasta, nutty brown butter, and ecru curls of whiffy
white truffles fresh from Alba, Italy. Steep pricing is a hallmark of luxury
resorts and Studio doesn’t break rank.
Nothing inflates expectations like extreme tariffs, and Strong is up to the
task. His nightly tasting menu is a convincing showcase, and at $125, a
relative value. One night it opens with sublime hamachi sashimi, minimally
adorned with lime, olive oil, and caviar. Next is foie gras, reverently
seared and played against ripe nectarines, candied pecans, and redolent
onion marmalade. The third act is velvety pumpkin soup with a single sizzled
shrimp atop the russet-hued infusion, dotted with sweet cockles, chorizo
bits, roasted raisins, and brioche croutons. It’s a brilliant symphony of
flavors and I insist both my tablemates have a taste, but there’s not a
spoon to spare. The server—and the bustling staff—misses our swiveling
heads. Just as the soup approaches room temperature, Strong appears on his
dining room rounds. I admire the soup and ask if he could send a waiter our
way. He cheerfully solves our problem by sending out two petite servings of
the same soup, facilitating the arrival of the two coveted spoons.
The meal continues, with the gustatory joys tainted by sluggish or impassive
service. Our initial wine steward flippantly replies to one request and
shows zero interest in dishing on the voluminous wine list of 1,800 labels.
Shortly after, the pan-seared Monterey calamari supplies a dazzling
performance. Sweet, nutty, and tender, the small squid is stuffed with a
toasted breadcrumb filling seasoned to mimic the plate’s side salad of fresh
arugula capped with a Parmesan crisp. As one tablemate declares the calamari
the “best of a lifetime,” another notes “plenty of staff buzzing about, but
no one ever lands at our table.” Both observations are correct. We aren’t
ignored, but we’re far from charmed. I do fall hard for dessert—a delicate
red-plum tart with amaretto ice cream and a drizzle of plum preserves with
warm notes of cardamom.
Another night brings an excellent lesson in umami, the Japanese term for that savory, glutamate-rich “fifth taste.” It comes by way of a roasted Maine lobster tail with fideo (noodles) in a buttery bath of green curry-lobster reduction flecked with scallions. It’s rich, dainty, and utterly refined. Loch Duart salmon is precisely medium-rare, and its toothy crust is a splendid contrast to its soft center. Heirloom beans supply heft, pea tendrils add delicacy, rhubarb brings brightness, and dots of beurre rouge sauce fuse the busy dish into a harmonious whole.
Lamb two ways is more of a mixed bag: The chop is somewhat overcooked and the loin roulade is oversalted. But the meat’s clean, expressive flavor shines through in the jus that marries the accompanying white beans, cabbage, and “melted” ratatouille. Grilled New York Brandt beef seems a ho-hum choice, but the slices of flawlessly cooked steak fanned over a ragout of short ribs steals the entrée show. Each bite is magically more enticing than the one before, and aided by braised Swiss chard, baby carrots, and silky pureed potatoes, it disappears quickly amid groans of pleasure.
Once again, the thrill is on the plate, not in the room. Service is plagued
by long waits and scant attention. The taciturn wine steward notes the
unusual nature of a bottle we’ve brought, but doesn’t linger long enough to
discuss or accept a taste of the wine. It’s becoming a theme— sommeliers who
don’t expound on wine. No matter, the chocolate trio dessert is a
crowd-pleaser that lifts the mood again.
Coffee and delectable mignardises close the meal, triggering another long
wait. Where is our waiter? One in our party decamps when coffee cups are
empty and fatigue sets in. Where is our tab? We look around and continue our
wait. Finally, we snag a staffer and request the bill.
I do like that Strong’s new menu is boldly concise. A carte this short demands trust from the diner, confidence from the chef, and frequent change-ups while stalking the season’s finest ingredients. But a lineup this expensive also demands precise service and “five-star” hospitality. I don’t worry at all about Strong’s vision, passion, and command of the Studio kitchen. But I do fear his dazzling cuisine is undercut by a dining room staff that underserves his customers. Landing Strong is a culinary coup. Heightening the hospitality should be a far easier feat.
Best Dishes
Hudson Valley foie gras, roasted Maine lobster tail, pan-seared Monterey
calamari, grilled New York Brandt natural beef, seasonal fruit tart.
Price Range
$23 to $53; nightly tasting menu $125 to $200 with paired wines.
Wine Values
Albariño, Condes de Albarei, Rías Baixas 2008, $29; Pinot Noir, Bearboat,
Russian River Valley 2006, $45; Barolo, Aldo Conterno, Bussia 2001, $138.
Corkage is $15, one bottle per table.
Top Spot
Any table near a window; the heated patio on cooler nights.
Tip
Ask for a “personalized” tasting menu. Strong will visit your table to
discuss your likes, then—for an upcharge—serve a six-course dinner
exclusively for you.
Ultimate Feast
Private dining for as many as 12 at the “chef’s table,” starting at $3,500.
30801 S. Coast Highway
Laguna Beach
949-715-6420
www.studiolagunabeach.com
Gretchen Kurzis an Orange Coast contributing editor and the local editor of
Orange County’s Zagat Survey.