Driftwood, not charcoal
Wood the sea worked smooth and salt-cured burns hotter and throws a smoke you can't fake.
The Fire
Salt Meridian sits thirty seats deep above the harbor, and the menu is written every morning in chalk because we don't know what we're cooking until the boats come in. We grill over driftwood — wood the sea worked smooth and salt-cured, which burns hotter and throws a smoke you can't fake with charcoal. The whole turbot goes skin-down over the coals; the txuleta sears hard on the bars and rests to the bone. The cider gets poured from a meter up, splashed against the inside of the glass to wake it, the way it's done across this coast. Nothing here is plated to be photographed. It's cooked to be eaten while it's hot, with your hands if that's faster, before the harbor goes fully dark through the glass.
Why it tastes like this
Wood the sea worked smooth and salt-cured burns hotter and throws a smoke you can't fake.
Written in chalk every morning because the boats decide what's freshest, not us.
Poured tableside from a meter above the glass so it splashes against the side and opens.
Before you come
Yes, and you'll want one — thirty seats fill fast. Send a request with your date and party size and we'll call to confirm. Walk-ins get seated only if the fire's quiet, which it rarely is.
You don't, exactly, and neither do we until the boats come in. The board changes every morning with the catch. Whatever's freshest goes over the fire — check the Today's Catch banner for the latest.
Because we grill them whole and weigh them whole. A turbot or a txuleta is priced by weight and easily split between two or three. We'll talk you through portions when you sit down.
There's always a grilled vegetable plate and whatever the garden sent us that week, cooked over the same coals. Tell us in the booking note and we'll set it aside.
There's a public lot two minutes up the hill and metered street parking along the front. The walk down to the window is short and worth it for the view.
It's a coast tradition — the cider gets poured from a meter above the glass so it splashes against the side and opens up. We do it tableside. It's not a trick; it's how the cider's meant to be drunk here.
Thirty seats · one fire
Thirty seats. Book before the catch is spoken for.