Night sky

Chéri Bibi (Biarritz)

GETAWAYS • Biarritz

At Chéri Bibi, evening begins outside, in the queue for the counter — somehow, part of its pleasures. The front is one wide window, where you can peek at the coziness inside. Once you’re in, you can look out at the beautiful light descending from the sky. At the counter, the barstools are broad and welcoming, facing the open kitchen, a small theater of precision and fire.

There are no hooks under the counter, a small imperfection that feels almost charming in a place where everything else is so considered. The service is flawless — gentle, rather than polished. Everything here is organic, local; the team even rents a small plot of land to grow their own vegetables, herbs, and edible flowers.

The chefs decide the rhythm of the meal: what comes next, when, and how. You can sip through a few glasses as the night unfolds, or step into their glass cellar to choose a bottle together. We opened with anchovies set on a burnt black lime condiment (the kind that could convert an anchovy skeptic), paired with a glass of crémant from Kumpf & Meyer, a powerful start as we scan the menu.

The menu itself resists a clear structure. Confitted eggplant comes with a mind-blowing egg white custard and seaweed, a completely new texture, brightened by ponzu and kiwano. Just-seared tuna with potatoes and sauce au poivre evokes a surfing grandmother’s Sunday table, while the veal and oyster tartare with kimchi and chili feels like both a punch and a hug in a salty meadow. Dessert is rooted in more simple, homey pleasures: apple and pear burnt compote, fromage blanc, poached quince, and caramel, paired with my favorite vermouth (the Bianco by Chinati Vergano, a blend of Cortese and Moscato).

At first, the kitchen feels almost too serious, with chefs at the bar studying each plate like a thesis in texture and flavor. But as the evening finds its rhythm, the tension softens; laughter surfaces, the team relaxes into the flow. Every member of the staff moves with intent and respect, switching stations, watching over one another. It’s a choreography of care, both in front of you and behind the counter.

The big communal table hums with conversation, strangers trading bites and smiles. Next to me, a surfer muses: “Before going out on the waves, I can’t eat too much — we’ll grab a little matcha in Anglet after, as a reward.” His words drift between the clink of glasses and the hiss of the grill — a reminder that this is the Basque Country, where food isn’t just sustenance but rhythm, ritual, and connection.

Chéri Bibi feels like the kind of place that could only exist here in Biarritz, a blend of technical mastery and genuine warmth, of land and sea, of precision and pulse. –Candice Chemel

→ Chéri Bibi (Biarritz) • 50 Rue d’Espagne • Thu-Mon 19h-0h • Book.