Bistro Amasa

Julian Martinez and Jesse Gaddy bring their fine-dining expertise to the historic Upham Hotel with Bistro Amasa, where classic American dishes are given a contemporary twist.

By Maddy Sims

Photography Erin Feinblatt

Julian Martinez and Jesse Gaddy, the duo behind Santa Barbara’s Michelin-starred Barbareño, thought their next act would be a tri-tip sandwich shop. That was the plan, at least, until a storied inn changed everything.

Opened in 1871, The Upham Hotel is one of the oldest hotels in Southern California, first run by Amasa Lincoln (Abraham Lincoln’s cousin) and his family. Standing proudly on the corner of De La Vina and Sola, it remains a Victorian structure with a wraparound porch, manicured gardens, and the lived-in charm of a place that has hosted generations. Chef Martinez says the building itself suggested a new direction for the restaurant: something nostalgic and refined. Tri-tip sandwiches wouldn’t do here.

Martinez and Gaddy partnered with Hearth Homes and Hearth Hospitality to create an entirely different concept, a modern bistro celebrating American classics reimagined with contemporary techniques and impeccable ingredients. Bistro Amasa took shape, opening its doors on November 14, 2025.

By 5 p.m., dusk has already settled over Santa Barbara. Outside it’s cloudy and cool, but inside, Bistro Amasa radiates warmth. Stepping through the door feels like stepping slightly back in time—not into a period piece, but into a space that feels familiar.

Soft light bathes a burgundy-and-cream palette. An ornate glass chandelier anchors the room, and marble tabletops gleam. Through an open window into the kitchen, Chef de Cuisine Rigo Tapia orchestrates the evening. A door opens to the wraparound porch, where heaters warm tables overlooking the gardens. Classic rock hums softly in the background. The blend of Victorian and modern touches feels eclectic yet intentional, an early hint at the food to come.

We settle into a cozy corner and order drinks. The service stands out immediately, unsurprising given that much of the team came from Barbareño. The staff is attentive and polished yet still laid-back and friendly. The bar, situated at the front of the room, feels like a speakeasy, with glossy countertops, gleaming gold shelves, and a lineup of thoughtfully updated classics. My Boring Negroni is anything but—strawberry adds a light, unexpected sweetness. My dining partner’s Margarita carries a delicious hint of ginger.

Our server insists we begin with the olives. I admit I’m not usually drawn to olives, but he’s confident I’ll enjoy these. He’s right. Warm Castelvetranos mingle with sun-dried black olives from the farmers market, all marinated in orange balsamic with confit garlic and feta. They vanish quickly.

The roasted baby carrots arrive next, a true standout. Caramelized from a brown-butter miso glaze yet tender within, they deliver layers: sweetness and umami from the miso, earthiness from a silky parsnip purée, richness from hazelnuts, a burst of tartness from cherry-vinegar-soaked raisins. It’s a bite-size masterclass in balance.

Next come the Caesar croquettes. They’re crispy, warm, and instantly familiar yet delightfully playful. Nestled on a romaine purée and topped with swirls of creamy dressing, they transform a classic into something unexpected. We pair them with another round of drinks—a local Pinot Noir from Fiddlestix Farm and a clarified Jungle Bird, which leans into tiki tradition but lands unusually smooth and refined.

Chef Julian Martinez emerges from the kitchen and moves through the dining room, greeting guests and offering recommendations. It’s rare to see a chef spend so much of the night in the dining room, but it’s what makes Bistro Amasa so special. It feels like being welcomed into a friend’s (very well-decorated) home. When he stops by our table, he speaks about the journey to opening Amasa. Despite his calm, reserved demeanor, his eyes brighten as he shares his favorite dishes: the steak tartare, the baby carrots, and the steak frites.

What the team has achieved is spectacular: taking old-school comfort foods and transforming them into exciting, eccentric dishes. The gnocchi ‘n’ cheese is a luxurious riff on mac and cheese—pillowy pasta coated in four cheeses, topped with garlic breadcrumbs and chives. The twice-baked potato is crisp outside, creamy within, finished with herb crème fraîche, pickled shallots, and lardons. We pace ourselves only out of necessity.

Then comes a surprise from the kitchen: the steak tartare. Instead of a traditional egg yolk, the dish features a mustard “yolk” that adds brightness and heat. The Snake River Farms wagyu is exceptionally fresh, paired with dry-aged tallow, pickled cabbage, and crisp crostini. 

It hasn’t even been an hour since the restaurant opened, and it’s already full. The room hums with conversation and laughter. Larger groups settle into wallpapered alcoves that feel like private dining rooms. Bistro Amasa is the kind of place where you could spend hours with loved ones, tucked away from the pace and noise of modern life. There’s a special sense of connection here, the kind only dining out can offer.

The roast chicken, a surprise hit, is exceptionally juicy, accompanied by warm vadouvan labneh and a refreshing cucumber–mint salad. The steak frites feature Snake River Farms beef dry-aged for 30 days, cooked perfectly and served with a black garlic chimichurri that’s bold yet slightly sweet. The spiced fries come with a citrusy yuzu aioli. It’s a revelatory take on a classic and worth the trip to Bistro Amasa on its own.

Dessert items range from an affogato to an “apple something-something.” We choose the s’mores, which is a perfectly toasted marshmallow dome topped with graham crackers. But inside is a cacao–avocado mousse—a sophisticated counterpoint to the sweet koji marshmallow. Nostalgic and inventive, it evokes a childlike sense of joy.

We linger long after the plates are cleared. Conversation drifts to our favorite bites, what we almost ordered, and what we’ll try next time. Thirty minutes pass unnoticed. In the soft glow of its vintage interior, Bistro Amasa invites you to be fully present. Dinner slows, phones stay tucked away, and for a moment, you can savor a simpler time, even amid the restaurant’s modern, inventive flavors. If Martinez and Gaddy ever open that tri-tip shop, I’ll be first in line. Until then, you’ll find me tucked into one of Bistro Amasa’s cozy booths.