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.

The best way to prepare for a meal at the new Inner Sunset bistro Caché is by letting go of all expectations. Because though the buzz surrounding it has emphasized the backgrounds of owners Florent Thomas and Simon Mounier, both French expats with Michelin-level experience, you won’t find fussy takes on steak frites or escargots here. 

“That’s not what we want to do,” Thomas says in a flowy French accent. “Sometimes we have some complaints about that, because customers expect it. But the vision we have is very modern.” 

The duo chose the Inner Sunset for their first restaurant after falling in “love at first sight” with the “quintessentially San Francisco” neighborhood. Dense with bakeries, coffee shops, and family-friendly places to grab a weeknight dinner, the blocks around 9th Avenue and Irving are no restaurant desert. But it’s undeniable that Caché has raised the bar in the neighborhood.

The restaurant’s soft, modern design echoes the flavors on the menu, which mostly veer from the heaviness of butter and cream despite being rooted in French tradition. In fact, Caché’s most famous dish, sea bream sashimi for two, sees the mild white fish marinated simply in citrus and dressed with a splash more lemon and a few glugs of olive oil. But it’s with the showstopping presentation that Caché continues the pattern of breaking tradition: Nearly translucent slices of baby-pink raw sea bream arrive arrayed like scales across the body of the fish, head and tail included. “We wanted to keep the natural form of the fish,” Mounier says. “It’s been more popular than we expected.” 

Similarly, consider yourself warned that the vegetables with anchoïade — typically a dip of anchovies, garlic, olive oil, and vinegar — is not a crudite but a salad of thinly sliced radishes, carrots, and tender cauliflower florets under a drizzle of the punchy sauce. And while you wouldn’t expect a bistro to be a destination for Thai-inspired green curry, Caché does a respectable job with the coconut-milk-infused dish. It’s a nod to all the vegan and vegetarian diners out there, inspired by a trip the owners took to Thailand, where they fell in love with the cuisine’s vibrant flavors. Their French-ified curry is more restrained, with a backbone of fresh herbs and very little heat. Served over quinoa, it presents almost like a stew. 

Seafood is where the kitchen truly shines. A surf-and-turf crudo sees briny oysters layered over beef tartare with Tabasco, worcestershire and soy sauces, shallots, and capers showered on top for a blast of acid and salt. Even better is the skate wing, one of the most recognizably French dishes on the menu, starring two filets of flaky white fish in a pool of lemony grenobloise sauce. For dessert, the warm cookie is hard to resist, but mine arrived with overly crisped edges. 

Thomas handles the wine, pulling together a short list of options by the glass, almost all from France, with a little California mixed in. Everything is biodynamic and produced with minimal intervention, though he’s quick to point out that drinkers shouldn’t expect “fizzy” natural wines that have given the category a bad rap in some circles. Instead, look for bright, acidic whites that pair well with seafood and an aromatic orange number from Alsace. There are five low-ABV cocktails — mostly riffs on classics like spritzes, martinis, and sours. 

For those who knew the narrow storefront when it housed charming Korean superette Queens, the duo’s transformations may come as a shock. Gone are the old wooden shelves and refrigerated cases. Now, the warm, winding dining room stretches back to a small square kitchen set off by sliding wooden doors. Inspired by the neighborhood’s name, they washed the space in sunset tones of dusty rose, khaki, and peach, with chocolate brown spread across the ceiling. 

By day, skylights drench Caché in sunlight; at night, wall-mounted uplighting creates a sense of intimacy. When the room gets full — and it is often full — the din of conversation in the echoey space can make the volume level nearly too high to maintain a conversation. Then again, maybe a cool, almost-too-loud restaurant with a menu that defies expectations is just what the neighborhood needed.