Chef Eddie Moran brings his unique touch to Montrio.

“Montrio is a story.”

That’s how chef Eddie Moran speaks of the iconic downtown Monterey restaurant. He sees himself as a chapter, ushering the narrative along toward an unknown destination.

So let’s play along. Moran has always been able to script an understated menu with bold strokes rendered in a reserved tone. Yet the dilemmas and climatic moments he creates resonate.

Take the grilled Wagyu eye of ribeye as an example. Moran was on the team that opened Cantinetta Luca and he resurrected the Carmel kitchen before coming to Montrio. His ethic has always been one of allowing good ingredients and solid technique to tell the story—except that he likes to showcase a lot on one plate.

Instead of a quick sear and a little salt and pepper, he strikes the ribeye to a hot grill three times, resting it in between. This develops a crust that is intense—beyond bittersweet, beyond smoky, distant yet assertive—over delicate, ruddy beef. It sits on a sauce of black garlic that is equally profound.

Yet the bold strokes don’t clash. The earthy funk of the sauce underscores the natural savor of Wagyu, layering in a sweetness that pairs with the meat’s opulence. On the side this particular night were potatoes coddled in duck fat.

Over the top? Somehow no. Mushrooms first pickled and then grilled brought an unexpected unity to the plate—musty, sharp, sweet, elegant and rustic at once.

Were we to carry the literary metaphor further, Moran’s style sets the steadiness of Nick Carraway alongside the garish nature of Jay Gatsby.

Plush slivers of hiramasa crudo came with a radiant sauce of blood orange. At first bright and cheerful, it begins to sneer and three different chiles torment the fruit. Yet the temper subsides and you are left with a welcome sweet heat that both pampers and sparks the fish.

Moran brings a new style to Montrio. Some of the restaurant’s regulars from the previous iteration mourn favorites dashed from the old menu. Personally, I miss chef Tony Baker’s memorable poutine. Like the chef said, it’s a story.

When Montrio opened in 1995 as Montrio Bistro with chef Brian Whitmore at the helm, it earned Esquire’s nod for Restaurant of the Year. With Baker and then Justin Robarge heading the kitchen, the place regularly earned Best Restaurant in Monterey from Weekly readers.

Coastal Roots Hospitality took over the restaurant during the pandemic shutdown and paused for renovation, dropping Bistro from the name. That means more emphasis on elegance. Moran prepares a burrata salad that is a poetic vision; the steak tartare is studded with capers that have been rubbed with truffles and more of the prized fungi is shaved on top.

Still, the goal is to remain as local, seasonal and organic as possible. Moran was in the process of adapting the menu during our visit. A presentation of gnudi—not on the menu at the time—rested in a cream sauce that evoked decadence.

That’s Moran. A simple dumpling wrapped in sable. “I have to bring something from my time at Cantinetta Luca,” he explains.

Coastal Roots brought Moran to work with chef Sascha Lyon on the new menu before Lyon—introduced as the reopening chef with much fanfare—departed for a larger market.

The setting suits Moran. It’s a different place than the bistro—elevated, perhaps. But it remains a destination.

Great cocktails, too. Just watch out for the Cara Cara Collins. Dangerously good.