Once in a Blue Moon

BY JAIME LEWIS PHOTOGRAPHY BY LILY WOLFE

Years ago, my husband and I spent a week on the coast of southern France in a town called Sanary-sur-Mer—an impossibly bright, sunny place to whose charms we found no end. We swam in the Mediterranean, worked on our tan lines, and treated ice cream like daily medicine. In the evenings, we dined on entrecôte steaks and crisp green salads served with bottles of Bandol rosé from a perch in the local bistro, overlooking the beach.

I recalled that week recently while visiting our own local seaside jewel, Avila Beach—another impossibly bright and sunny place with a beachside bistro. With its crisp blue-and-white interior, chic patio, and spellbinding view of the sand and sea, Blue Moon Over Avila Restaurant just might fool you into believing you’re in Nice, Antibes, or Cannes for a moment.

“We have the best location in California,” says Chef José Dahan, food and beverage manager at Blue Moon Over Avila—an energetic Frenchman with a kind face and an obvious appreciation for the good life. He gestures to the waves tumbling on the shoreline, and the promenade where people of all ages stroll past boutiques, souvenir shops, and street performers. “How can you beat that?”

Dahan’s cuisine is familiar to many longtime diners in San Luis Obispo. A native of Toulouse, France, he wound up here in 1996 after owning restaurants across Southern California. In SLO, Dahan’s acclaimed eatery Et Voila! served classical French fare for over a decade until its closure in 2014. Dahan says he shuttered the business because he wanted to travel the world rather than stand chained to an oven. So he retired. Mostly. >>

In 2017—near the beginning of that retirement— Dahan’s friend Nancy Bell (of Lindamood-Bell fame) reached out to say she was opening a French bistro on the Avila Beach promenade. Before she could ask him to forgo his retirement and take over as chef, Dahan beat her to it.

“I’ve been cooking for fifty-six years,” he told her. “The last thing I need is another restaurant.”

Despite his proclamation, Dahan loved the idea of a French restaurant on the beach. So he helped Bell bring the kitchen up to code, develop the menu, and train the staff, as he has (and still does) for many restaurants across the Central Coast. Over the years, though, Blue Moon became especially close to his heart.

“I really love this place,” he says. “Nancy’s been a really good friend—she’s like family.” As such, Dahan stays on as food and beverage director, stopping in to consult and help whenever he’s between trips to Taiwan, New Zealand, or Patagonia. He keeps the focus on relaxed French classics like coq au vin, steak au poivre, and salade niçoise—all prepared with vibrant ingredients and a slight California accent. He also oversees the wine list, which is ninety-five percent from small French wineries. “I work for a French importer,” he says. “We have Sancerre, Crozes-Hermitage, Vouvray—wines you can’t find in shops around here.” >>

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As Dahan tells me about his upcoming trip to North Africa, I sample Blue Moon’s sprawling charcuterie plate with camembert, paté, dried figs, and baguette. It summons the scene of a picnic in a heady lavender garden. When the French onion soup Lyonnaise arrives, my spoon breaks the burnished gruyere seal and the aroma of caramelized onions and sherry rises, reminiscent of a rustic French kitchen in winter. But it’s the salmon salad with golden beets, seaweed, and citrusginger vinaigrette that elicits memories of our lazy days spent on the sand in Sanary-sur-Mer.

With each bite, I’m reminded of the common misconception that French food is overly-grand, overlysauced, expensive, and inaccessible. The dishes I eat in this light-filled, seaside bistro are exactly the opposite; they comprise simple elements, brought together in ways that have stood the test of time—and they remain as evocative as ever.

As I bid Dahan farewell at Blue Moon’s front door, I can’t help but marvel at the many diners seated on the patio. The late afternoon sun directly faces them from its place above the Pacific horizon, blazing in the reflection of their sunglasses. At every table, they chat, sip, laugh, and watch the waves. If not for their American English, I’d almost swear they were French, enjoying a late afternoon lunch and watching the sun draw its daily arc over the ocean. SLO LIFE