I wish I could frequent Chez Noir
but for all intents and purposes it’s a “special occasion spot” (lest I sound too much like a dad from the midwest–no shade to dads from the midwest, you guys are the meat and potatoes of this country and we need you to keep us humble). I also live five and a half hours away—a little far—and to add insult to injury I lack the funds, but that’s a me problem.
The one Michelin star jewel-box run by husband and wife team Chef Johnny and Monique Black is as romantic as it is surprising; touches of peach, cerulean, emerald green, and marigold find their way into the art and upholstery, only to be expertly balanced by gorgeous slabs of various marbles throughout. It feels like a true stand alone in Carmel-by-the-Sea, a breezy yet charmingly stuck-in-time town in California’s Central Coast. From the looks and tastes of things, while the Monterey Peninsula may have one foot in the past, it seems to have one very chic foot very far in the future.
My husband and I were greeted by Monique like we were friends of friends and seated, against our will, together on the inside bench of our table looking outward into the restaurant. We tried this once ourselves in the past but it felt bizarre–how else are we gonna Lady and the Tramp a piece of spaghetti?! But at Chez Noir it felt appropriately celebratory and sweet. We had an incredible view seated directly facing their lively yet locked in open kitchen. Dinner theater at its finest. Taking a look around I realized we weren’t alone. Couples here and there, each pair of them strategically seated together on the inside of their tables looking out into the dining room. It felt nice being gently guided into a new seating arrangement. It felt special.
The prefix 4 course menu felt familiar and nourishing in the way Californian cuisine should at its core, and a reminder of how really good ingredients prepared with a forward-thinking, focused palate can bring any storied cuisine into the now. Standouts from the menu included a tuna confit amuse bouche that was truly one of the most balanced bites I’ve ever had (hard to do when vanilla’s involved), Iacopi Farms butter bean & artichoke salad with smoked tuna belly (smoky, salty, chewy, creamy from the beans and what tasted like the best dilly ranch-like dressing coating the plate), and bone in halibut–tender over stewed squid, with fresh herbs, green olive, and lemon to cut the richness.
If you tied me to some train tracks and told me I had to pass on one dish or you’d run that train right over my fleshy, well-fed body, I would begrudgingly vote the expertly made eggplant filled agnolotti as tribute. As a second course it was pretty damn perfect, a well balanced amalgamation of summer produce and toothsome pasta dough, but it didn’t quite have the level of chutzpah that the dishes preceding and following it did; an easy fate when every dish felt like an immaculate balance of comfy, playful, and centered.
Chez Noir could have slipped into stuffiness extremely easily in Carmel (old money, Cali style), but it’s the new-meets-classic design of both the interiors and the menu, as well as that good ‘ol, laid back, coastal hospitality, that keeps it fresh. I wish I could eat Chef Johnny Black’s menu more often, but alas, I’ll happily settle for Chez Noir being the well placed exclamation at the end of any of life’s special occasions.
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