Special-Occasion Dining At Its Finest: Michelin Three-Starred Quince
San Francisco’s Quince definitely puts the “special” in special-occasion dining.
It’s been around for a remarkable 23 years (including 17 of those at its current Jackson Square location). It’s held three Michelin stars since 2017. And it came as no surprise when the San Francisco Chronicle gave it the nod for “best hospitality” in its “Top 100 Restaurants” list this year.
Quince certainly lived up to all of that when I dined there last week in an epic 5-hour dinner, where my husband and I practically closed the place down with only one other table still occupied. Granted, that’s probably a more extended time than the norm. Even though we paid our own tab, Chef Michael Tusk (who owns the restaurant with his wife Lindsay Tusk) sent out extra dishes on the house that made for a longer dining duration.
Even so, I have to say, it never felt like five hours. It never dragged, there were no lapses, and it actually seemed to go by quite swiftly.
A lot of that does owe to the fact that the staff are so personable and engaging — but not in an overly interruptive or intrusive way. When one server who was pushing the migardises cart saw me eyeing it at the start of dinner, he slyly winked, “Not just yet. For later.” When another staff member saw me fingering a beautiful wine stem, he made a point to come over periodically to explain that a certain glass came from Germany or a serving bowl from Japan.
This was my first time dining at Quince since its remodel in 2023. The dining room, which used to be more dimly lit and darker overall, has been moved to the front of the restaurant and lightened up with blond oak furniture and plenty of space between all of 10 tables. A wall of large windows lets in a lot of warm natural light, especially at this time of year.
The 8- to 10-course tasting menu is $390 per person. Beverage pairings include “Wines of California” ($325), “Rare & Unique” ($550), “Art of Wine” ($1,225), and seasonal non-alcoholic ($150). Cocktails and supplemental courses are also available.
As you settle in, placing your purse on the footstool provided, the amuses start to arrive. They are tiny and so precious looking, full of crunch and big flavors. It starts with what tastes like the most delicate chips & dip. Tusk explains at the table that the paper-thin, crisp tart shell is gluten-free, made with cooked down, reduced onion and cornstarch, then topped with creme fraiche and caviar. The onion taste is incredibly deep and lingers on the palate.
That’s followed by an equally tiny fava bean chip with fava bean cream that tastes like spring personified; a carrot and hibiscous tart that’s all at once sweet, earthy, and sharp; and a morel, porcini, and rosemary “macaron” that’s intensely earthy and nutty.
The first course arrives in a lovely stack of cloud-shaped bowls, which alludes to how light tasting it is. It holds a smoked almond panna cotta with citrusy, tart kumquats that gets its own royal treatment when a server rolls over a cart with a huge silver orb. He slides it open to reveal a large tin of Tsar Nicoulai osetra caviar on ice, from which he adds a dollop to your dish.
The next course is geoduck clam, which my husband receives. Owing to my allergy, mine instead comes with more of the quenching, crunchy carosello cucumber-melon shaped into little balls along with cucumber juice and a touch of wasabi. It’s as refreshing as an intermezzo.
A vivid emerald green snap pea custard is garnished with peas that have been peeled. Yes, peeled, leaving them more silky and slippery. The smooth custard embodies the purity of fresh-picked sweet sugar snap peas.
Many restaurants may have cut back on bread courses. Not Quince. Here, you’re presented with not one, not two, not three, but four different kinds. They are blue corn, green garlic, burnt powder, and seeded, and servers are only more than happy to give you one of each — and even seconds of any. They are set down at the table with creamy cultured butter.
White asparagus has a notoriously short season and is prized for its naturally sweet, nutty flavor. Tusk made the most of its waning days by featuring the stalks in a number of dishes he served to us. The first was a showstopper, and captured all eyes whenever it was brought to a table in the dining room. All night, we had seen what looked like a steamy fish bowl with handles being carried to table after table. What it held were big, thick, whole white asparagus spears. A server carefully plucked one out of the herbed bouillon to set on a plate in front of me, then spooned over a buttery sauce with morels (video). If you ever wondered what all the fuss was about white asparagus, this dish will answer that in spades. It’s classic and classy with silky stalks bathed in luxurious creaminess.
More white asparagus, the last of the season from California’s SweetHeart Farms, arrived dotted with petals and greens in another creamy sauce. So supple, these were especially nutty tasting.
Finally, there was white asparagus tortelloni with caviar. Quince has always soared with any house-made pasta. This was no different. The tortelloni wrappers were so thin and supple, and as silky as an Hermes scarf. There were only two on the plate, but how I wished there had been a dozen.
For the “Wines of California Pairing,” there was a pour of 2023 Two Wolves Estate San Vineyard Santa Barbara County Semillon from Alecia Moore, better known as Pink. Yes, she’s a serious winemaker in her own right, and this golden-colored wine was impressive with expressions of honeycomb, chamomile flowers, and pear along with nicely balanced acidity.
A supplemental risotto was served next, enfolded with squash blossoms and mushrooms. This was textbook risotto texture — creamy, properly tender yet slightly al dente just in the center of each grain, and languid enough to fall slowly off a spoon.
Wild salmon was presented at the table in all its glistening orange color before being whisked away, then presented in its plated form, barely cooked over cherry wood. Served with a sake sauce along with both a fava bean and cauliflower puree, its texture was like butter. You could really taste the cherry note, too, in its flesh.
For the final savory course, I actually ended up with two steak knives because a staff member wanted me to see the second one, which was definitely quite special. Each of these knives takes three months to hand-make in a custom collaboration between the Tusks and Northern California knife maker Everet Noel. The stainless steel blade has a loop-like brass handle with a subtle curve. Striking and downright gorgeous, it’s like fine jewelry. Would you believe that the restaurant sold out of them on its Quince at Home web store — even priced at $500 each.
It made digging into the hearth-cooked loin, belly, and sausage of Watson Farm lamb feel even more special. The sausage was encased in a pretty squash blossom, the loin so juicy, and the belly a real treat with its fatty, sticky, melt-in-your-mouth texture. If that wasn’t enough, a server came by seconds later to offer up two more cuts of the lamb: the coppa and saddle, both of which really showed off the sweetness of the meat.
A supplemental cheese cart will roll to your table next. With about a dozen cheeses offered, I limited myself to three: an aged, orange, crumbly cheddar; a creamy blue cheese; and a rich triple cream, which were served with crackers.
To reset the palate afterward, there was sakura granita, looking like newly fallen snow with a cardamom-cherry blossom infusion poured over at the table.
Dessert was a parfait of rhubarb, cherry blossom and matcha, presented as a pretty spiral with leaf and petal. Two teeny cherry blossom ice cream cones were presented with two airy, sugar-dusted rhubarb bomboloni.
The mignardises cart that had caught my eye earlier made its way to the table, filled with all manner of chocolates, caramels, nougats, madeleines, pates de fruit, and chocolate-mint cookies. If you are greedy enough to ask for one of each — as I, of course, was — you will not be given a side, but instead have your plate filled immediately.
There’s more. As you get ready to leave, you’re asked if you’d like hot chocolate or warm tisane to take with you in a lidded cup.
And still more. At the door, you’re bid farewell with a bag containing not only the evening’s menu, but a jar of house-made granola to enjoy at home the next morning.
They say that details matter. At Quince, they have that practice down to a science — along with everything in between.
