Kiln – San Francisco, CA

"Everything on the plate should hit hard.”

Such is the manifesto of John Wesley, the mastermind behind one of the most electric restaurants on the west coast––Kiln. Wesley, an alumnus of storied Bay Area fine dining kitchens like Commis and Sons and Daughters, has been blowing people away with his ingredient-driven, meticulous tasting menus since 2023, and in just two years has earned as many Michelin stars, making Kiln one of just twelve restaurants in California to hold two stars in 2025.

The hype around Kiln cannot be overstated. Wesley and co-owner Julianna Yang took over a space from the 1910s that used to house a mechanic's garage, decorating it only sparingly, and quickly built one of the most exciting and bold new restaurants in California. For Wesley, "Kiln" was one of the first names he considered for the new venture, and he finds it fitting:

“When something gets fired into a kiln, it comes out different and transforms ... In a restaurant setting that’s applied to food and, hopefully, guests, but also front of house, staff, cooks — people that come in and spend time here should leave different than when they came in.”

Indeed, Wesley has described his cooking as "ingredient-driven" but also "technique-driven"––pristine, magnificent ingredients, particularly animal proteins, receive sometimes days or even weeks of work, with a particular emphasis on preservation techniques in the Scandinavian/New Nordic tradition, such as pickling, fermenting, and brining. Wesley's food has been described as a meeting point of New Nordic, Japanese, and French foodways, arguably the three most important currents in fine dining this century.

The lengthy tasting menu is deployed in a stark and industrial environment, almost forcing diners to focus solely on the food and the entanglements of bold, exciting flavors that Wesley's technique-driven approach yields. The soundtrack is as edgy as the space and cuisine, and in a given night might feature the likes of Mac Miller, Ella Fitzgerald, or N.W.A.

I'd had a hell of a few months––in September, I suffered a bad ankle injury, requiring surgery and rather unjustly costing me my job, since it was no longer possible for me to walk, let alone stand, for at least eight weeks, making me useless to the restaurant. After tearfully moving out of my beloved apartment in Carmel Valley, I embarked on a "self care" sort of trip while searching for my next chapter.

My first stop was an evening in San Francisco, capped off by a long-awaited table for one at Kiln.

Before Kiln, I met up with a beloved friend who I hadn't seen in some time, Lucienne––I mention this not just for the company, but for the venue, Angler, a favorite which I've written up previously, and which still has my favorite scallop in all the land. Martinis, oysters, fried smelts, and scallops at the Angler bar were a great way to start an evening of gustatory delights.

It was a short drive to the City Center area and I managed to find a parking spot right in front of Kiln, a blessing given my limp and cane. En route to my table, I passed right by the open kitchen, with Chef Wesley himself manning the pass at the most exposed counter. The space was as stark and vaulted as promised, lit almost exclusively by ambient lights over the tables and service stations and the glow ambient from the street and kitchen.

Everyone at Kiln is greeted with Champagne. While J. Lassalle is not the most glitzy offering, it's a perfectly acceptable bottle, and was a fine way to start the evening. The captain welcomed me and introduced me to the pairing options as well as a single supplement of caviar for the evening.

Before I embarked on my sommelier career, I did pairings at every tasting menu dinner––I have since cooled significantly on pairings, mostly because working as a somm has made me understand that restaurants can pad their margins significantly with pairings and will deploy offerings that may be perfectly okay, but don't come even close to carrying the value the guest pays for.

These days, I'll bring a bottle and buy a couple of glasses or cocktails, or another bottle if dining with someone else, and since I work in the biz and am (ahem) outrageously charming, the somms tend to style me out with some bonuses. But there's an exception––when I know a pairing slate to be fundamentally worth the money, after doing research, I'll spring for the pairings, and based on my perusal of some online reviews, the reserve pairing at Kiln very much hit that mark. Easy decision.

Each course is presented with very little downtime by a member of the kitchen staff. I was lucky enough to have my first bite brought forth by none other than Chef Wesley, and enjoyed chatting with him and expressed how excited I was to be there. The bite itself was an artfully presented fritter made with pilsner and "Minuet" goat cheese from Andante Dairy in Petaluma, an old friend from my Sonoma County days. A wafer of Périgord truffle topped with negi garnished the bite. Very good.

Seconds after the first bite was cleared, the next arrived, a significant step up from the first. This is one of Chef's signatures, a dish that takes days' worth of processes to assemble. A tangle of beef tendon was dressed with dollops of sweet potato and splashed with onion vinegar. A signature for a reason, and an excellent example of Chef's "Kiln."

The bites kept getting better, each arriving quicker than the last. Raw Norwegian langoustine was easily the best bite of the first set, with a sauce made from the heads of the langoustines and chamomile buds garnished with green plum and dusted with sansho pepper. Now we're talking.

Sacramento is a locus for sturgeon and hence caviar production, and the final of the first four snacks featured raw smoked sturgeon from the California capitol in a tart with a gelée of verjus (high-acid early wine picked before alcoholic fermentation is possible) and dusted with dill pollen. The first four bites took maybe ten minutes in total, a breakneck pace with unflappable attention from the kitchen, with each presented on a tray tableside.

The Lassalle was running low and I was ready for a more "reserve" offering, and the sommelier was kind enough to get a little creative and do a series of side-by-side pairings throughout the menu. Starting quite strong, he poured a splash of wine from two of the greatest producers of sauvignon blanc worldwide––from Napa Valley, Eisele, possibly the most exceptional permutation of the grape in California, and from the Loire, Daguenau's cuvée "XXI," a more intense and funky expression.

With the sauvignon blanc was a pristine cube of scallop from Hokkaido topped with cypress seed and a slice of matsutake mushroom. The sauce was the key––a creamy, foamy broth kissed with kombu and aromatic verbena. This was the next "wow" moment of the meal.

While I sprung for the caviar supplement, I declined the additional pairing, which was a glass of Krug's Grand Cuvée Edition 171, a wine I'd had literal cases of at Aubergine and didn't need to pay dozens of dollars to experience. The sommelier was kind enough, however, to pour me a glass of something else to pair––a bone-dry sparkling Riesling made in the traditional method from Emrich-Schönleber, one of the most electrifying producers in the Nahe in Germany.

Sadly, the caviar supplement course was my least favorite of the night. A healthy mound of imperial osetra caviar was overpowered by a sweet and sour bay laurel and caramelized onion vinegar. Caviar is an profound but delicate flavor that needs gentle accompaniments, and the sauce washed out much of the caviar's essence. A real shame, especially considering that it added nearly three figures to my tab.

This would prove to be the only miss of the night, however. A dramatic reversal from miss to wild success came in the form of a Maine lobster atop chrysanthemum greens, a first for me, dressed with a gelée made from a reduction of the lobster shells and the whimsical pop of a acid from finger limes. Paired with a vertical of two vintages, one older and one younger, of Graham Tatomer's expression of Riesling from Kick-On Ranch in Santa Barbara County––2008 and 2021––this was a course that prompted me to write in my notes, in all caps, "HOLY FUCK."

Aged sake regularly makes an appearance on the reserve pairing at Kiln, and this Yamahai Koshu, called "Ancient Treasure," is about as complex as they get. Yamahai sakes use a brewing method that lets ambient lactic acid bacteria develop over a longer period of time, producing sakes that are complex, funky, earthy, and notably high in acidity. Meanwhile, koshu sake refers aging in the brewery before bottling and release, in this case in wooden vats (perhaps cedar vats, if I remember correctly). Finally, this sake is a genshu, undiluted, resulting in more intense flavors. You might call this a wine- or whisky-drinker's sake, and it was spellbinding.

The course was equally complex and outstanding––Monterey Bay red abalone sat in a mind-blowing sauce made of vin jaune and abalone livers scented with fig leaf atop some crunchy California cabbage. I would dream of this sauce for nights to come.

The only other major miss of the night involved not a dish's construction, but a pairing. I love the wines of Pierre-Yves Colin-Morey––some of the most magnificent Burgundy, and white Burgundy in particular, you can buy––and I was thrilled to see an old vine bottling from PYCM's home turf, Chassagne-Montrachet, on the pairing slate.

The fantastic dish with which the chardonnay was paired, however, made from Dungeness crab, shinko pears marinated in horseradish, and an emulsion made with the crab heads, threw the otherwise magnificent wine way out of balance, presenting exclusively with nearly bitter acidity. Unclear what the disconnect was here, but very surprising for the wine program at a restaurant at this level to offer such a comprehensively disjunct selection.

But it would be smooth sailing from here. The somms would offer both a fantastic 1er Cru Vosne-Romanée from Clos de Réas, a monopole of Michel Gros, from a challenging vintage alongside a pilsner-style lager from Hanabi, the brewing project from Nick Gislason, the winemaker behind hyper-premium Napa wine brand Screaming Eagle. Never thought a beer would overshadow 1er Cru red Burgundy, but this lager, brewed from an ancient wheat varietal called Hourani recovered from the ruins of the Masada fortress in the desert flanking the Dead Sea, was obscenely delicious, aromatically generous, and slightly spicy.

Alongside was one of my favorites of the night––two cuts of squab from the Central Valley in a pool of squab bone reduction flavored with late season huckleberries. A small dollop of lovage added some herbaceous lift to the dish. Outstanding stuff.

My favorite wine of the night was a moderately aged expression of "La Crau" Châteauneuf-du-Pape from Vieux Télégraphe, one of the greats of the region. From 2015, a stellar vintage in the southern Rhône, the wine was in a fantastic place, and resonant with ripe strawberries, red cherries, and earthy roses. A spoonful of porcini and sunchoke emulsion accompanied the wine, as well as a fantastic loaf of rye sourdough with house-made cultured butter, which would serve as a welcome accompaniment to the last couple of savory courses.

Another side-by-side wine offering would accompany the main course, both expressions of cabernet from the 2014 vintage––one from Napa and one from Bordeaux. Altagracia is Eisele's "second" wine, made from some of the eastern parcels of the Eisele vineyard and supplemented with fruit from across the valley, and is routinely fantastic, if not quite as glorious as their Eisele estate cab. Meanwhile, from Margaux, 2014 is one of the most acclaimed vintages from second-growth Bordeaux house Rauzan-Segla, and provided an "old world" take on the varietal. Both were fantastic, but the Rauzan, with a bit more restraint and complexity, was a clear favorite.

Venison was the foundation of the main course, presented in multiple forms. First was a saucisson-style cured venison salami aged with rum and warming spices, which might have been my favorite element. Next, a fritter of blood sausage offered a beguiling richness, while a beautifully cooked venison saddle gained earthy generosity with a foam of Alba white truffles.

Iberico pork is a favorite of Chef's, and a meal at Kiln will routinely feature a take on the glorious acorn-fed delicacy. An impossibly delicate Iberico tart with truffle provided a bookend to the first course with another offering of cheese from Andante in Petaluma, this time cow's milk, and wisps of shaved truffle. After the tartlet was conquered, a mug of remarkably intense and comforting consommé of Iberico would be the last savory helping of the meal. Valpolicella from Quintarelli was a tasty but otherwise uninspired pairing, but I loved how this course helped segue from the "main" savory course into the sweeter courses.

To refresh the palate, a vibrant sorbet of olive oil was presented accompanied by bergamot as well as quince and bergamot rind. Palate cleansing, indeed.

In true reserve pairing form, one of the great vintages of one of the great dessert wines the world over would pair with the final course. Château d'Yquem stands alone at the pinnacle of sweet wine classifications in Bordeaux, and 2006, a particularly outstanding vintage for Sauternes due to the optimum conditions for the development of botrytis, is among the most legendary offerings from the house. Resplendent with acidity and bursting with aromatic characters of saffron, marmalade, and apricot, it was about as ideal an expression of botrytized wine as I could imagine.

Both loyal readers will recall the Maestro's penchant for sweet-and-savory combinations in desserts, and what could be more savory than white truffles from Alba? White truffle ice cream was the basis of the dessert, paired with various permutations of orchard fruits such as apples and quince. Savory, sweet, and acidic––a perfect dessert.

And while mignardises followed, I've stopped taking notes on mignardises, mostly because I'm in a slightly drunk state of bliss at the end of the meal and there are too many things to remember! Instead, I allowed myself to enjoy each bite with the last gulps of d'Yquem accompanied by the sultry vocal stylings of Etta James over the speakers.

Kiln lived up to and often exceeded nearly every expectation. The menu, at least for now, still kind of a steal for food and technique this precise and excellent, and the reserve pairing is one of the last truly premium beverage pairings offered at this price point in the world. The food, indeed, hits hard, and the only fault was a course where it hit too hard. Chef Wesley is crushing it with intensity, purposeful technique, creativity, and impeccable ingredient sourcing.

I'd be unsurprised to see Kiln eventually earn a third star––they certainly have the drive and inventiveness, and are making some of the most exciting food I've had in recent years on the west coast. Get a table now before they crank up the prices to match.

What a great way to start my little self-care romp! You'll see more about my sprawling November trip as it happens, but suffice it to say it's loaded with amazing food and wine. Stay tuned––this time, I promise I'll restore the blog to its former glory.