At SingleThread, everything happens at the right time. The season is the only recognized calendar; the earth is the only recipe book allowed. Kyle and Katina Connaughton have transformed Sonoma into a living laboratory of sustainability, a place where you learn not only to cook, but to observe, to wait, to let nature have the first word. And today that word rings out louder than ever, because their restaurant has won the Sustainable Restaurant Award, part of North America's 50 Best Restaurants 2025: an award that reflects not a menu, but a way of life.
Cover photo of the rooftop: @ERICWOLFINGER
Californian kaiseki reflects the present: each dish is created using ingredients harvested that morning from the 24-acre farm run by Katina. There is no preconceived idea that dictates the ingredients: the ingredients dictate the idea. “The restaurant is a reflection of the farm, not the other way around,” says the chef in an interview with 50 Best. It is a philosophy that demands absolute respect for the present. The service becomes an almost spiritual invitation: “ichi-go ichi-e,” a unique, unrepeatable opportunity—if you miss the moment, the flavor evaporates.
It is no surprise that the experience begins outside: before or after dinner, guests can walk through the fields, breathe in the moisture of the soil, touch the leaves still warm from the sun, and follow the bees as they paint the distant stamens yellow. Walking among the rows means already eating: it means creating a connection between your hands and your plate, between what grows and what will nourish you. “Food tastes different when you know its story,” Connaughton points out. “We harvest seven days a week and are open seven days a week, so guests really experience the authenticity of the place.” Not surprisingly, farm tours are scheduled daily at 11:00 a.m. and 6:00 p.m. for guests who can visit before or after their meal.
In this ecosystem, the soil plays a leading role. Here, fertility cannot be bought: it must be built. The fields are left to rest in rotation, at least a quarter of the land remains untouched, the grass is covered to preserve moisture, helpful plants are sown—peas, broad beans, mustard, oats—and nutrients are returned through composting. In the subsoil, thousands of earthworms work on a silent agronomic revolution: their action produces a rich, dark, almost fragrant soil conditioner. What remains in the kitchen becomes life again. There are no chemical fertilizers. Crops are protected by locally fermented sprays, mixtures of chili peppers and garlic that keep unwanted pests away with capsaicin. At the same time, plants are intercropped with others that attract pollinators: butterflies and bees become part of the brigade, playing the same role as a commis or sous-chef.
The water comes from wells and is treated like a precious relic. Despite the abundant aquifer, only drip irrigation is used, because true luxury is parsimony. Every agricultural gesture is calibrated according to tomorrow's logic, not immediate yield. In summer, when the land overflows, the ritual of preservation begins. SingleThread has a kitchen dedicated solely to fermentation and preserves: dried tomatoes, plums that will become winter dishes, creams, pickles, jams. In this case, time does not age the product: it matures it into another form. And this is where sustainability frees itself from a common misconception: it does not mean closing oneself off. Mushrooms, peaches, and fish come from other local producers: “If our mission is to promote biodiversity, we must also do so by supporting the economic biodiversity of the territory.” SingleThread does not want to be a self-sufficient planet, but a connective constellation, a network that grows if everything around it grows.
Even in the kitchen, there is no room for the sparkling perfection of fine restaurants. Vegetables are not carved until they become anonymous; their irregularities tell the story of their lives. The dish does not hide: it reveals. Social work is not an appendix, but the very root of the project. And while the land is cared for, the brigade is also treated as an ecosystem to be cultivated with patience. Top-level catering does not exist without discipline, but here discipline is trained with gratitude. Every month, the restaurant rewards a member of the team with an award inspired by kaizen – the Japanese concept of ‘good change’. It is not about selling, but learning; it is not about shining alone, but making the group shine. “We are responsible for training the next generation of conscious leaders,” says the chef. And you can tell he really means it. Behind every harvest, every fermentation, every dish that crosses the dining room, there is one word that cannot be ignored: consistency. When SingleThread wins an award, it is celebrated for one day only. Because that award is about yesterday. And here, religion is today.
Katina, with her greenhouses, orchards of heirloom varieties, buzzing beehives, foraging in nearby woods, and even the flower arrangements in the dining room, is the high priestess of an agricultural aesthetic that cannot be improvised. Kyle is the voice of that symphony, but the score comes from her, from the land she conducts like an invisible orchestra. So, as the last rays of afternoon light cast liquid shadows on the crops and the Sonoma breeze accompanies guests back to the dining room, one clear thought emerges: sustainable cuisine is neither a trend nor a luxury. It is a daily act of love, patient, technical, humble. A pact between the earth, man, and time. And SingleThread honors that pact every day. With a single unwritten rule: to tell the truth of the present.
