Eat Here Now is a first look at some of the newest, hottest restaurants around – the ones we think are worth visiting. We dine once, serve forth our thoughts, and let you take it from there.
Murugan Gunasekaran can tell you exactly which billionaire is to blame for Marina Beach going from an under-the-radar gem to one of the hardest-to-land reservations in San Francisco. Hint: He works at City Hall.
The turning point came just three weeks after Gunasekaran and chef Lucas Morris-Lopez opened the doors to their 18-seat, dinner-only South Asian bistro in June.
“I was like, ‘Oh, crap, the mayor’s here,’” Gunasekaran says, recalling how Daniel Lurie popped in unannounced to try the house-made bread with fresh paneer. Then, on July 13, the city’s influencer in chief posted a video (opens in new tab) hailing Marina Beach as “the coziest restaurant in the city.”
By the end of the month, all six tables were fully booked through the summer.
Though it spans two rooms, Marina Beach has just 18 seats. | Source: Chris Behroozian for The Standard
Bread with paneer, javvarisi vadai, and late summer kurma. | Source: Chris Behroozian for The Standard
“I believe in what we do,” Morris-Lopez says. “But I didn’t think that was going to be a thing.”
As San Francisco’s South Asian dining scene grows increasingly upscale, as seen at Copra, Tiya, and Bombay Brasserie, Marina Beach is pursuing a more down-to-earth strategy. “The whole conviction I had with Marina Beach was, how do we present South Asian food in a new format?” Gunasekaran says, noting that the restaurant focuses specifically on Tamil cuisine, from South India and Sri Lanka.
The duo envisioned Marina Beach as a chill, neighborhood wine bar — the kind of place where locals could catch up over a bottle of orange Marto Weiss (opens in new tab) or share a spread of South Asian small plates. Tucked into the ground floor of a residential building kitty-corner to the city’s most controversial supermarket, its location lends itself well to that aspiration.
“I don’t like being upscale,” says Morris-Lopez, who gives off the perpetually relaxed energy of someone unimpressed by fancy restaurants. “I always trip out on my homies, like, how can we disarm all this snobbery, pretension, complication? Let’s make it so anyone can enjoy this.”
Nearly three months in, that vision hasn’t changed — even if getting a table has become considerably harder.
On any given day, the menu offers just seven or eight plates — a manageable enough number that a party of two can enjoy the thrill of ordering one of everything. Morris-Lopez, who cooked at Mexico City’s Michelin-starred Masala y Maíz before returning to his native Golden State, says this is in part because of a commitment to approachability. Logistics also play a part; the kitchen is compact, and after running Marina Beach as a pop-up, he got in the habit of developing streamlined menus that he could execute alone in a pinch.
The bread is the only staple: a pillowy, slightly nutty sourdough. It’s served with house-made paneer; unlike the firm blocks of cheese you’ll find at grocery stores, it’s soft and spreadable, almost as rich as a mascarpone, with a burst of acid from Meyer lemons.
Source: Chris Behroozian for The Standard
It’s the only dish that disregards the calendar. Gunasekaran and Morris-Lopez say seasonality underpins everything at Marina Beach, a principle embodied by dishes such as a small plate of squash, pomegranate, and pumpkin seeds — perfectly balanced and easy to enjoy.
Similarly, a basket of savory vegetable fritters called javvarisi vadai brings together sweet tomato chutney and sharp cheddar, marrying the flavors of South Indian home cooking with a distinctly Californian sensibility. Even better is kurma, a cashew-based white curry served with chewy rounds of housemade chapathi. With a touch of coconut, the light-bodied curry is subtly sweet, and a burnt sienna-colored chile oil adds a pleasant kick. At the farmers market, Morris-Lopez gathers beans, squash, and poblano peppers to fill out the plate, adding a garnish of fried mustard seeds for a delicate crunch.
Morris-Lopez and Gunasekaran hope Marina Beach can become a casual, neighborhood spot. | Source: Chris Behroozian for The Standard
Gunasekaran’s wine list spans a single page of mostly natural, consistently affordable options by the glass and rotates just about as often as the food menu. “I approach it very much like a student,” he says of his overarching philosophy. “I don’t want to sit here and act like I’m an expert in wine. I’m just a lover and a drinker at the end of the day.”
This attitude — a confidence in their vision to put a Californian twist on Tamil cuisine and a dedication to making it available to as many people as possible — has the duo considering a drastic change: getting rid of reservations altogether. Customers already show up 30 minutes before the doors open at 5 p.m. in hopes of grabbing one of the four stools at the kitchen counter. And with walk-ins only, they’ll never have to deal with the kind of customers who have been grabbing multiple reservations on the same night with hopes of moving tables together in the crowded dining room.
“It’s getting out of hand,” Gunasekaran says, shaking his head. “It just goes against what we stand for. We want to be inclusive and not make this like an exclusive thing.”
Marina Beach Opening hours5 to 10 p.m. Thursday through Saturday