Maligne wants to fit in, but it can't stop being one of the finest restaurants in the county.

Onion rings may not say everything about Maligne. In presentation and flavor, however, they tell a pretty close story.

They are beyond compare—what one always anticipates when ordering onion rings, but never quite receives. The shell cracks, mellow and malty. The onion snaps, with a sweep rasp. A remoulade deserving of a more evocative name plays along with a cunning, grassy nip.

Yet chef Klaus Georis insists there is no mystic alchemy involved, just beer batter and rounds of onion, along with a reverence for time-honored technique. The dish is as it should be. Anything more would be an empty flourish.

It’s the same with every dish we tried at the Seaside restaurant. There is a haute perfection to the preparation, as if Escoffier himself were at the helm.

Mention of the king of chefs in reference to a Seaside kitchen and onion rings—probably a first. There are restaurants of note in the community, including some of the top taquerias and arguably the two best pizza joints in the county. But Maligne is singular, putting it in a unique and challenging position.

“We’re trying to keep it accessible,” Georis says. “We don’t want to be an occasional restaurant.”

There are several guiding ethics at play here, and they both further the goal and throw obstacles in its way. Refined technique is one. Georis also sources the finest ingredients and changes the menu accordingly, which means often. 

Experience and quality combine for—well, the onion rings could represent, but classic vol au vent measured briny lobster with the opulent tang of Hollandaise, green beans served at a distinct al dente and tomatoes so delicate they dissolved on the palate, leaving a wisp of ruddy sweetness. It’s a simple puff pastry dish that becomes memorable—a good thing, because vol au vent has given way to new menu items.

Nothing appears imposing: grilled prawns, tuna steak, ribeye, a classic Nicoise salad. It’s all simple elegance, another guiding principle of the Maligne team. 

Once again, the onion rings can elaborate. Georis and his crew do not boast of a prosaic onion ring tower. Nor would they pile them on a platter with careless abandon. A vessel arrived at the table cradling five onion rings—crowns of burnished gold against pure white china, suiting a $13 appetizer.

This has been the rub. Sharing a street with The Oven, Ferdi’s and Mariscos Puerto Nuevo—as well as crowds with expectations along those levels—can lead to sticker shock. But as everyone should be aware, more than a year after “supply chain” became part of routine conversation, costs are up almost across the board.

“We knew we would be out of place,” Georis admits. “It’s been more of a fight than we thought it would be.”

Georis, along with opening sous chefs Greg Delgadillo and Austen Falls, conceived of the restaurant as a community gathering place. Yet they have Michelin stars in their backgrounds and share a commitment to seasonal products and ethical sourcing.

When they occasionally add a burger to the offerings, the meat comes from Knights Valley Wagyu, a Sonoma County ranch that is a kind of tranquil, free range preserve for the pricey cattle. Most of the meat is destined for Michelin star kitchens (“The ribeye always goes to Single Thread,” Georis reports with a note of resignation, referring to the three Michelin Star restaurant in Healdsburg).

Given the standard of ground beef, at $22 the burger is not outlandishly priced. “We’re just the fourth restaurant in the state using the meat,” Georis explains. “To have a product like that adds a different element.”

The ribeye and filet on Maligne’s menu are “vaca vieja”—”old cow” in Spanish. American diners are only beginning to realize the impressive flavor of meat from cattle not rushed to the market, in this case retired dairy cows. Chef Jonny Black at Chez Noir in Carmel also recognizes the character of such beef.

There’s a sense of virtue within the selections. Tuna collar, once a cut tossed to staff meals or to waste, is a featured dish at Maligne.

“A lot of times when people see one of those going out—‘Oh my god, what is that?’ It’s a show piece,” Georis points out. But there is also a lot of meat on the collar. And cooked for an hour over an open flame, it yields yellowfin that runs from dense and smoky to delicate sashimi. “You get so many layers of texture,” he adds.

While the tuna collar may turn heads, it is not a contrivance. Maligne is, rather, an experience—a destination. It draws diners from Monterey and Carmel to Seaside.

Achieving a neighborhood vibe is always going to be difficult, given all of the above. But the restaurant recently added Sunday brunch with bottomless mimosas (priced to keep the party crowd at bay). And they are considering adding a Friday and Saturday lunch to the schedule.

“We want to explore all avenues,” Georis explains. “As long as we’re not going backward we’re happy.”

In the quest to become accessible, the crew at Maligne have accomplished something remarkable. The restaurant is one of the county’s elite stops. Yet the menu is not over the top—fried calamari, strawberries and cream, lox for brunch. This is approachable stuff, done perfectly. That’s what the onion rings tell you.

“You can be perfect, but don’t be pretentious,” Georis says. “That’s the important part.”

Maligne is at 600 Broadway Ave., Seaside. Open Wednesday-Saturday 5:30-9:15pm, Sunday 11am-2:30pm. 601-1302.