nated by walls of windows, is warmed
both by an infusion of wood—the long
thick planks dangling along the windows
and the sleek wood tables and chairs—and
splashes of color found primarily in the
burgundy upholstery and the tint of green
in the glass.
I found the food to be just as cool and
modern, both in the eye-popping presenta-
tions on squares of lava or slate and in the
preparation, with clear infl uences not only
of the Mediterranean cuisine Plascencia
has long been taken with, but also Asian.
I’d heard buzz everywhere from The New
York Times to the Los Angeles Street Food
Fest (where Plascencia took top honors), so
my expectations were high.
The menu and wine list is extensive.
The wines focus on Baja wineries and the
dishes are based on ingredients sourced
locally—primarily in the Guadalupe Val-
ley just east of Ensenada. To get the most
from the menu try the Chef’s Menu—four,
six, or eight dishes are available.
My fi rst dish was a parfait of avocado
meringue, thick housemade yogurt, diced
Baja scallops, Persian cucumbers, soy jelly,
chiltipin (a local wild chili), and a sprig of
crunchy, salty sea bean surrounded by
corn sand. The layers, shades of cool green,
actually are meant to be stirred together
and the resulting bites are an amalgam of
sweetness with a tad of heat, umami from
the soy jelly, and salt from the sea bean.
A petite salad of salt-cured nopal (cactus)
strips followed. The nopal was mixed with
Meyer lemon and grapefruit juice, topped
with locally-farmed fried abalone chips,
micro arugula, and a chile de árbol salsa.
There’s heat. There’s crunch. All with
grapefruit undertones providing a nice
slightly sour acidity.
Then came surprises with the third
course. It looked like a simple salad. Nes-
tled between the lettuce leaves and slices
of heirloom tomatoes was a long, thin slice
of beef and scattered around the bowl were
olives. At first glance, it appeared pret-
ty basic. But the beef had been sous vide
for more than 48 hours, or, as the menu
charmingly says, “cooked to high empty
for 48 hours and sealed at the moment,”
rendering it silky, tender, and sweet.
Intriguingly, the waiter placed a spoon
in front of me and instructed me to use it
to pick up what I assumed were the olives.
But the grayish-brown ovals, reminiscent
of kalamatas, were, in fact, a molecular
gastronomic tease: the mere essence of
olive, petite olive juice balloons with all
the salty brine you get when you bite into
the real thing.❯❯ DINING | Review
118 SanDiegoMagazine.comNovember2011