From the remote mountains of Big Sur to Mundaka in Carmel, the blueprint remains the same.

You know it’s a party when getting there requires an hour of extreme driving over steep, deep-rutted dirt roads that bounce ice chests off the car ceiling and threaten to trap overwhelmed drivers in the dust – and even then it’s hard to find a cherry place to camp.

You know it’s a party when – to get in – you have to sign a waiver that reads, from the top, “On behalf of myself and my next of kin, heirs and representatives, I release from all liability and promise not to sue Gabriel Georis, Nico Georis… ”

You know it’s a party when crashing out at 4am feels early (because the dome’s still raging) and waking at 9am feels late (because the sun’s already scorching).

You know it’s a party when headliner Latyrx’s Oakland half, genius alternative rapper Lyrics Born, admits he has no idea where the hell he is (deep deep Big Sur, for those scoring at home), but knows precisely what to do when on stage, which is whip the crowd into a full-blown hip-hop freak-out frappé.

You know it’s a party when the likes of Wolfman BBQ, PigWizard and Ocean Sushi’s Shiho Fukushima do up tri-tip, manchego-artichoke sausage and poki-seaweed bowls two days straight.

And you know it’s a party when security appeals to you for a cold beer as you leave Sunday midday, and asks if you wouldn’t mind hiking up the dusty road to see if the last stranded vehicle has been cleared. Because he’s tired. And hot.

But all that is rather redundant, because you know the annual Nacarubi Music Fest will be a party long before you get there, camp out and tune in to artists like Dragondeer and Rushad Eggleston because of those names on the waiver. Young father and restaurateur Gabriel Georis knows parties – and how his brother Nico’s musical gifts can elevate a show’s lineup. (Assists from Sand City’s Freeway Productions help too.)

That ability to bring together festive ingredients makes each trip to his freshly 4-year-old Carmel restaurant Mundaka (624-7400), which Gabe opened at age 31, a similarly good time.

The cozy Carmel-by-the-Sea spot can feel like a party any time he breaks out one of those tasty and obscure small-plot wines he always seems to find at affordable prices – maybe the Castrillo de Duero Tempranilloout of Southern Spain he has now, a wine from a little castle garden that drinks like a big Napa Cab – or a thin slice of jamón serrano, a choice bite of the pig leg presented on the reclaimed redwood bar.

But it really gets going when Nico’s on the ivories (or a DJ’s on the ones and twos), Exec Chef Brandon Miller’s hand-pulled mozzarella, duck confit wings, paella fritters and housemade Catalan-style sausages are circulating and Georis pulls out the porrón spout that shoots wine into the throat from arm’s length.

“It totally serves its function,” he says. “People pass it from table to table – and order it more on their own once they know we have it.”

Each of those things – the tapas, the live music and yes, the porrón – was a Carmel breakthrough, which helped make it our readers’ Best New Restaurant at its start and Best Place for Small Plates now. Georis was also advocating for an open-air Carmel market with performing artists and food purveyors years before Mayor Jason Burnett made it a central tenet of his campaign. (The new Carmel Certified Farmers Market carries on in the Sunset Center parking lot 10am-2pm Thursdays, including this July Fourth.)

“Mundaka was proof of concept, and the market is too,” Georis says, “of how we can bring people who want to spend money to Carmel to do something besides play golf at Pebble Beach. My contention is the draw isn’t having another Tiffany’s Jewelers, but an vibrant sense of community that’s truly charming.”

His approach fits with a trailblazing tradition: His dad and uncle abandoned their native Europe to sell Birkenstocks and launch a dynasty that now includes Casanova, La Bicyclette and Corkscrew Bistro plus the Georis and Cowgirl wineries. But Georis’ vision was only possible once he rebelled against his uncle’s heavy direction at Casanova, abandoning a lucrative GM post to play his own way.

He’s recently opened an auxiliary space next to Mundaka called The Pintxos Room, which serves finger foods by night, hosts large tables on the weekend and dishes zesty Spanish-style, wine-friendly snacks by day. Fifteen small plates come in two or three sizes each and include a traditional Spanish tortilla with potato, onion and egg ($2, $5); queso fundido with chorizo jam and melted cheese ($2, $4); Spanish olives ($5, $11); Marcona almonds ($5, $11); shrimp bisque ($2, $4, $7); pâté ($2, $5) and empanini ($2, $4, $7).

He’s also cleared patio seating with the city to further draw people in.

“We got the patio [permitted] for the same reason I didn’t put bar stools at the bar,” he says. “Force people to interact, share space, reach over one another. No territorial interaction. Restaurants, coffee shops and parks belong to everybody.”

Fellow restaranteur Rich Pepe just added seats to his Little Napoli (626-6335) courtyard. I called him to get another progressive restaurateur’s take on Georis’ approach and how it fits with a greater vision for Carmel. As it happens, I caught him as he was leaving a Carmel City Council session that included a vote to approve a 10-year rule allowing live music and alcohol in the same place. Next up: Dancing and alcohol. Whoah.

“People like Gabe and myself want to have a town where you can live, work and play,” he says. “You can live and work here, but we don’t have many playgrounds in Carmel.”

Last Saturday, Georis stood to the side of the stage, awaiting the finals acts. He sounded grateful—after five years of huffing gear up the mountain and herding cool cats off the lake at the end of the weekend—to actually enjoy most of it with family and friends without all the work. Then he paused and considered the parallels between the restaurant and the wild wilderness music weekend.

“It’s the same [formula] in both places,” he said. “Throw a good party.”