At Cyrus, the front-of-house and kitchen teams receive the same salary. Everyone earns a fair annual wage—around $75,000—which ensures dignity, continuity, and collective participation.
Cover photo: @danielle.kinney.imagery
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In the hushed silence of a Californian evening, among the neat rows of vines that stretch across the hills of Sonoma County, time bends gracefully, rules melt like hot chocolate, and the art of hospitality becomes storytelling. This is where you'll find Cyrus, which is more than a restaurant, it's a story in motion, a multi-act play that begins with a toast and ends with a wish thrown into the liquid heart of an eight-foot-tall chocolate fountain. Here, Nick Peyton is not just the maître d', he is the silent director of an experience that has changed the rules of fine dining – with grace, irony, and a clear goal: to eliminate awe and multiply pleasure.
Forget the dusty austerity of the maître d'hôtel of the 1970s, who, as Peyton himself recalls, treated guests like supplicants. “You had to prove you were worthy of the restaurant, and it was completely upside down,” he tells Michelin with a frankness that smacks of gentle revolution. Today, his approach is radically different: formal in his gestures, informal in spirit. Rigorous mechanics, certainly, but warm humanity, genuine smiles, and sincere dialogue with every guest. In a word: empathy. At Cyrus, you don't just dine, you travel. The meal is a “Dining Journey,” a gastronomic odyssey orchestrated with theatrical precision. It begins in the Bubbles Lounge, a panoramic lounge suspended above the vineyards of Alexander Valley. Here, the sunset colors the glasses and introduces guests to an atmosphere that feels like home, like a party among friends. A glass of sparkling wine, a light bite, and then—with grace and rhythm—an invitation to cross the threshold of the kitchen.
It is right there, in the heart of the entire project, that the most unexpected magic happens: twelve guests take their seats around a horseshoe-shaped table, immersed in the frenetic and fascinating action of the chefs at work. The chefs—and not just the waiters—serve the dishes directly, describe the ingredients and their inspiration, and answer questions. It is a genuine interaction that breaks down the boundaries between the dining room and the kitchen, between those who serve and those who are served. The experience continues in the glass box, the transparent dining room where nature enters without asking permission. The service becomes more classic, with seven courses served with meticulous attention to detail. But it is the setting, open to the light and air of California, that continues the story of lightness and freedom. And then comes the poetic and sweet epilogue: the Chocolate Room. A refuge for the sweet tooth where everything melts away—the palate, your defenses, the day. Hot chocolate, pralines to take away, the evening menu, and a small chocolate coin to throw into the continuous flow of the fountain: a final symbolic gesture, like a seal on an experience that tastes of the unforgettable.
For Peyton, who started out among the tables of the Fairmont Hotel and climbed the ranks of service to become a true icon of Californian hospitality, the revolution also involves economic language. At Cyrus, the front-of-house and kitchen teams receive the same salary. Everyone earns a fair annual wage—around $75,000—which guarantees dignity, continuity, and collective participation. “Even those who work in the kitchen know how to explain a dish, how to answer a question, how to engage with guests,” explains Peyton. It is this shared spirit that makes the experience unique: a restaurant where everyone feels involved and no one takes themselves too seriously. The collaboration with chef Douglas Keane has lasted for over twenty years, a symbiosis between front of house and kitchen that has spanned eras and gastronomic revolutions. “We started out as a small neighborhood restaurant, but we dreamed big,” recalls Peyton. With the first Cyrus, opened in 2005, they tested the waters. With the reopening in the new space, they rewrote the rules. And today, the MICHELIN Guide California 2025 Service Award is not just a medal, but confirmation of a profound and consistent approach that has changed the face of hospitality.
Fine dining can be spectacular without being cold, refined without being snobbish. It can, indeed, must respond to the guest's desires without imposing a preconceived narrative. "Everyone arrives with a different reason: an anniversary, a business deal, a gastronomic journey. Our job is not to leave a mark, but to make them feel elevated, recharged," says Peyton. And when someone asks for a hug at the end of the evening, then yes, that means we've achieved our goal. It's not just about bringing a plate to the table. Service, in Nick Peyton's world, is a relational art made up of intuition, empathy, and respect. The gesture is technical, of course, but the spirit is free. Cyrus is the perfect example of how the great restaurants of the future will be built on authentic encounters, on experiences that are immersive without becoming intrusive, precious but not pompous, warm without losing elegance. In an age when hospitality risks becoming an algorithm, Cyrus chooses to remain human. And it does so with disarming grace.
