The Sea Chest: Treasure Found
There are some things in life that simply cannot be improved upon, timeless things like: little black dresses, wing tip shoes, anything by Mark Twain, french sailor stripes, perfect cheeseburgers, Missoni prints and red lipstick for example. My husband and I—while on a recent drive up the California coast—came to the conclusion that one of our favorite haunts for delicious seafood, The Sea Chest in Cambria deserves a place on that illustrious list.
This Sea Chest’s force is so strong that if I’m even near that part of the coast I NEED to go there. I’ve genuinely tried to eat at other restaurants, even making reservations I know I’ll never keep. I swear this place has it’s own gravitational pull! One that’s been known to draw me into it’s orbit three nights in a row without a shred of regret. Me, the one who’s always looking for the next culinary adventure around the corner, eating at the same place three nights in a row? Blasphemy!
The Sea Chest sits on a magical stretch of coastline called Moonstone Beach, an easily missed turn off of Highway One just before Hearst Castle. A quaint fog colored New England style cottage complete with nautical knots and token seagulls, it’s straight out of a turn of the century seafaring novel. You WILL have to wait, there’s no way around this unfortunately, but there is consolation in that you can drink lots of delicious local wine and play cards in their funky den-like waiting room while you do. Like the many before us who accidentally stumbled into this place on the way to someplace else, we had no idea the love affair we were about to embark upon.
The menu at the Sea Chest is to the point, on first glance one might even say unimaginative—but don’t be fooled. The catch of the day is always on a chalk board and prepared simply “A la Sea Chest” which just means broiled to perfection with lemon and butter. Of course they cover the greatest hits: clam chowder, cioppino, outrageously good calamari and let’s not forget the mighty local oysters from just a few miles down the road in Morro Bay.
Like any good seafood restaurant I ever loved as a child all entrees come with either salad or chowder, both of which are delicious and no matter what, ends up a difficult decision. The fresh house salad is topped with blue cheese vinaigrette. The chowder is hearty, comes with oyster crackers, and if you’re me, a shot of Tapatio for good measure. God I love California!
Did I mention that your table will never be without a basket of warm sourdough bread on it? (Scientists have discovered that sourdough bread eaten while inhaling sea air tastes better. No really, it’s a fact.) Our ritual usually has us devouring the first batch in minutes then eyeballing the poor server like starving puppies until she takes pity on us and trades our ransacked basket for a new one. That simple combination of sweet, sour, salty, soft and crunchy is like mini rock concert in your mouth.
Being perpetually homesick San Franciscan’s we always get the cioppino, we really can’t help ourselves, it’s in our blood.
Their version arrives at the table in a beautifully beaten up orange enamel cast iron pot, percolating an aroma into the air that has you instantly transported to some Italian nonna’s kitchen you never even had. The Sea Chest’s cioppino is one of the earthiest most unapologetic versions of the dish I’ve ever had—bold and herbaceous, overflowing with fresh crab, scallops, mussels, fish, tomatoes, peppers, mushrooms and of course copious amounts of oregano and garlic. I love how it doesn’t attempt to be anything but the honest hearty peasant dish it is. First created by San Francisco’s early Italian fisherman who would “chip in” whatever daily catch they could spare into a steaming hot pot of tomatoes, garlic and herbs would approve of this rustic beauty.
I’ve made this Bay Area classic often, and eaten it even more, so I consider myself a bit of a Cioppino Connoisseur. I don’t know what kind of magic happens in that little galley kitchen by the sea but I can seriously say that there is something more satisfying about the Sea Chest’s Cioppino to me than any other I’ve had. Maybe it’s the chef’s “if ain’t broke don’t fix it” approach, maybe it’s the sea air or maybe it’s sitting at the counter watching Chef Steve as he conducts his seafood symphony, regretting all the things you didn’t order as you watch the sun lower itself over the Pacific. I don’t have the answer, all I know is that bubbling cauldron has got some serious mojo.
Our last trip we arrived early (doors open at 5:30 pm) so we could sit at the counter, our favorite way to eat there. We watched as Steve started shucking, breading and frying oysters in butter then pouring beaten eggs into the pan over them. All us looky loos at the counter began wondering how we can have that?, and hmmm I never saw that on the menu? The woman next to me finally broke down and asked “What’s that you’re making there Steve?” He replied, “Nothing you can have unless you ate here in the ’70s.” Our eyes glanced down the counter to the lucky recipient of the golden oyster omlette as he finished it off in front of her with two pieces of crispy bacon. He told us that the dish he’d just so lovingly delivered was a Hangtown Fry and that the woman he’d just made it for happened to be his principal’s secretary in high school. He’d seen her car pulling up in the parking lot and began pulling out the ingredients before she even walked in the door.
Every time I’ve eaten at the Sea Chest I’ve witnessed a moment like this one, making dining there like being a member of some secret club you can’t believe you were lucky enough to get into. You may not be a local but you’ll always treated like one, and have no doubt that from the moment you enter the window filled rooms at sunset, surrounded by a ceiling covered with yellowing business cards, walls lined with employee photos, family trophies and odd gifts from devoted patrons you will be one too.
I love the fact that The Sea Chest hasn’t changed a bit since it opened over 30 years ago and especially that it draws in equal parts local and tourist, striking a balance seemingly impossible for other seaside establishments. Like all good things The Sea Chest never has to try to be good, it just is. Why mess with perfection?