There are restaurants that serve food, and others that serve legend. Spago Beverly Hills, the crown jewel of Wolfgang Puck’s culinary empire, is unquestionably the latter—a dining destination where stardom, impeccable service, and gastronomic artistry converge within the 90210.
For more than four decades, Spago has defined the gold standard of California fine dining, first opening its doors on the Sunset Strip in 1982 before moving to its current perch on Canon Drive in 1997. Designed by Barbara Lazaroff, co-founder with Puck of the original Spago, the space strikes a balance between timeless elegance and laid-back Los Angeles cool. Celebrity photo-filled white walls, warm woods, and glass are accented by statement lighting. Two distinct but equally alluring dining environments include the sleek main dining room, and the covered patio. Bracketed by twin fireplaces that bookend the space with a warm glow, and illuminated by twinkle-lit trees, the patio feels like an enchanted, secret garden, hidden in plain sight. While I’m not certain how guests are assigned to one area or the other—perhaps it’s a matter of preference, or simply timing—both settings offer their own version of the Spago experience: stylish, cinematic, and steeped in quiet luxury.
The Austrian-born, California-adopted Puck was a celebrity chef before there were celebrity chefs, and despite his own stardom, he still oversees the kitchen alongside Executive Chef Ari Rosenson. Their seasonally-changing menu is as much a love letter to California as it is a display of global sophistication, woven with Japanese, French, and Italian influences. To begin my experience, I requested the Spago-insider rite-of-passage: Puck’s famous smoked salmon pizza topped with caviar. (I’m currently helping to write a coffee table book about caviar, and in my research, this item popped up time and again as an example of caviar creativity. I was thrilled to be able to sample it.) This legacy dish arrives crisp and golden, with a delicate layer of crème fraîche beneath folds of house-smoked salmon and a flourish of black caviar. It’s playful, decadent, and impossibly delicious. As are the off-menu Spicy Tuna Cones, a cherished item known to those familiar with the restaurant's offerings, featuring spicy Big Eye tuna tartare nestled in a sesame-miso tuile cone and garnished with daikon sprouts, bonito flakes, and masago roe. Yum.
It seemed impossible that tastes could escalate, but they did. The Earth Crafted Gardens Farm Gem Lettuces with Fiddle Head ferns and Haas avocado was crisped by coastal sunshine and plated with a painter’s eye; the Dutch White Asparagus in Creamy Yuzu Aioli was an elegant ode to the season, plated with minimalist precision; the Singaporean Style Black Pepper Branzino, fragrant with wok-charred depth, crackled with heat and spice; and the Jidori Chicken was a masterclass in simplicity, with crispy skin and impossibly juicy flesh.
Dining at Spago is, above all, an immersion into a world where excellence is expected—and delivered without pretense. The service is that rarest of combinations: warmly intuitive and invisibly precise. Water glasses are topped before you notice they’re low; napkins are folded the moment you leave the table. No detail is missed, and yet there’s nothing stuffy here. It’s high-end hospitality at its most gracious, the kind that makes every guest—celebrity or not—feel like the most important person in the room. There’s an undeniable glamour to it all—discreet, and “insider.” This is clearly where power lunches unfold, where studio heads and stars meet, where birthdays are toasted with the finest Champagne, and guests know not to post a thing.
Puck is now a global phenomenon, yet despite his fame, this Beverly Hills flagship retains a deeply personal magic. There’s a sense of heritage here. While the food is a draw, it’s the vibe that lingers. The way the evening unfolds in perfect rhythm. The way the room glows with a soft hum of possibility. The way a meal becomes a memory that stays with you. Spago is all you’ve imagined, and then some.
Photos courtesy of Spago
