Sorrel

Sorrel runs an eight-course Californian-Italian tasting menu, and the kitchen's command of ingredients is the whole case. Pull-apart milk bread arrives with four separate butters on a wood plank before the meal even starts. A porcini course runs three preparations of the same mushroom side by side, playing umami against tartness against earthiness until the plate reads like an argument the kitchen already won. Halibut, cured and lightly cooked, sits in a shell pooled with clarified coconut broth that tastes like something worth bottling.

Service moves fast and cleanly, course after course landing on schedule. What's thinner is the sense of occasion beyond the plate itself — the kind of personal touch that makes a tasting menu feel like an event rather than a transaction. That's a real gap, but it's a small one next to cooking this precise and this consistently beautiful.

Sorrel holds a Michelin star as of the 2026 guide, and the record backs up what the plates argue: creative, controlled, reliably delicious. The food does the convincing here. It's enough.