Worth the Reservation? The Polo Room Palm Beach
Palm Beach doesn’t just open restaurants. It reframes them.
One season, you’re walking into a space you’ve known forever, then suddenly it’s been scrubbed clean of its past life, dressed in mood lighting and mythology, and sent back into the world with a new name and a new story. The Polo Room Palm Beach is exactly that kind of reinvention: newly opened in December 2025 at 251 Sunrise Ave, in the former PB Catch space, now reborn as an après-polo dining room with Argentine swagger and Palm Beach polish.
And the ownership actually matters here, because the concept isn’t just décor, it’s identity. The restaurant is co-owned by Argentine polo star Nacho Figueras and restaurateur Thierry Beaud, which explains why this place feels both like an international polo fantasy and a tightly run, local hospitality machine.
The owners, and why the room feels like it does
Nacho Figueras is not just a polo player. He’s arguably the sport’s most famous export, a 6-goal handicap player, long-time Ralph Lauren face, and a guy who helped turn polo into a glossy cultural product that lives somewhere between sport and luxury lifestyle.
Then there’s Thierry Beaud, Bordeaux-born, deeply rooted in South Florida dining, and known in West Palm for opening Pistache French Bistro (2008) and for having a long history of bringing concepts to life around here. He even has history at this very address: coverage from years back ties Beaud to reviving 251 Sunrise with PB Catch.
So yes: Figueras supplies the glamour and the polo mythology; Beaud supplies the operational competence and the “this will still be here next season” discipline. And the restaurant’s atmosphere feels like the sum of both.
The space: a “polo museum” that still feels cozy
The room is cozy but vibrant, especially at early dinner with families, locals, and seasonal travelers alike. Drapery and layered décor make it feel like a carriage house that learned how to charge a credit card for steak. And throughout, the equestrian theme isn’t subtle: the interiors feature 80s and 90s polo photography curated with photographer Ricardo “Snoopy” Motran, giving the place a genuine “polo museum” feel rather than a theme-restaurant gimmick.
The concept, on paper
This is pitched as a chic après-polo restaurant and bar with Argentine-influenced, equestrian-themed cooking: asado-style steaks, grilled seafood, raw bar/crudos, and house-made pastas, along with menu touches like Mima’s Chocolate Mousse.
The meal: where it hits, where it hesitates, and where it rushes you
Service is sharp: very attentive, proud, fast, city-paced. Sometimes too fast. We put the whole order in (apps and mains), and the night started to feel a little like the restaurant was trying to land a plane on a short runway. Plates arrived quickly, cleared quickly, and were replaced quickly. Impressive, but occasionally it felt like it was rushing the experience.
And yet: the staff does the kind of small hospitality detail that signals training and care. Example: you’re wearing black, and they offer a black napkin instead of white. That’s classy. That’s “we noticed you” without making a speech about noticing you.
Wine: huge list, limited bubbly, and markup reality
The wine program is clearly meant to be a statement, an 18-page list that signals “we take this seriously,” with enough bottles to keep collectors (and celebrators) busy. In practice, though, a few things shape the experience. There wasn’t a rosé bubbly option, and the by-the-glass sparkling selection felt surprisingly narrow. It was more like a couple of safe choices than a deep bench. Add to that a noticeable push toward ordering full bottles, and you start to feel the economics of the room. Case in point: Billecart-Salmon Rosé was listed at $275 here versus roughly $90 retail elsewhere. None of this ruins the night, but it does influence how you order: the list is impressive, yet the pricing makes it clear you’re paying for more than just what’s in the glass but the setting, too.
Tuna tartare + potato chips: excellent chips, wrong pairing
The tuna tartare is delicate, clean, properly cold, but barely seasoned, which can be confidence when the fish is good.
Then come the chips. And the chips are fantastic on their own: thin, cooked perfectly, and beautifully crisp. Except they’re also big, aggressively seasoned, and salty in a way that overpowers the tartare. The tuna was delicate and lightly seasoned, the chips were loud, salty, and dominant, and together they became “too much chip,” not enough fish. It’s not a bad dish; it’s a dish with the volumes set wrong.
Empanadas: the undeniable win
Then the kitchen delivers the night’s best bite(s): prime steak and cheese-and-onion empanadas, served with a chipotle mayo that is absolutely craveable.
They’re small, two bites each - and not doughy. We even noted the dough feels almost gluten-free-adjacent in lightness (not bready, not heavy). The filling and the sauce do the work.
Cheese & onion > prime steak, by a clear margin.
The Chipotle mayo is creamy, spicy, and “why is this so good” addictive.
The order consists of a minimum of four, but they vanish instantly anyway.
This is the dish that best represents the concept: Argentine influence, snackable luxury, and a room that wants you to order another round.
Branzino + charred broccoli: Provence vibes, but underseasoned
The branzino was cooked to perfection. It was beautifully grilled, tender, and flaky, with that clean Mediterranean profile you want from this fish. The broccoli has that charred, grilled taste: smoky, satisfying, very “Provence by way of Palm Beach.” The branzino, though, landed as bland, and the sauce and grilled lemon didn’t help. The fish didn’t need to be masked, just woken up with a touch more salt, acid, or a little heat. Great technique, great ingredients… it just needed that final layer of flavor to make it memorable. (And we weren’t wrong to benchmark: we felt La Goulue Palm Beach does branzino better.)
Lobster mix-up, fries glory, and the recovery
This part plays like a little Palm Beach comedy:
Boyfriend ordered one lobster dish, received the wrong one (lobster + fries), and while the lobster itself was cooked perfectly with a nice char, it wasn’t what he wanted. The sauces, however, were strong, one reading like a tartar-ish / sour-cream-and-onion / buttery situation that strangely works. There was also a Chipotle-style sauce that tasted like the empanada dip’s cousin.
And the fries? Amazing. Well salted, well-cooked, exactly what fries should be in a place like this.
Then the moment of irony: as soon as my boyfriend mentioned I’m the reviewer, the restaurant went into “fix it now” mode:
They brought the originally intended lobster pasta,
And they comped the lobster.
Great recovery! Fast, professional, and it shows a team that wants to earn loyalty. The only downside was an absurd amount of food, and the lobster pasta that became a “side dish,” which is its own kind of Palm Beach luxury problem.
Final verdict
The Polo Room Palm Beach is Palm Beach’s newest cozy, vibrant home base: an après-polo clubhouse with a confident identity, strong hospitality instincts, and a room that feels like a stylish “polo museum” thanks to its 80s/90s photography curated with Ricardo Motran.
When it’s on, it’s really on, especially in the empanadas, sauces, fries, and the overall vibe. Where it needs work is the kitchen’s tendency to play it safe on seasoning in certain seafood mains, and the service pacing that sometimes feels like it’s trying to move you through your evening instead of letting you live inside it.
Go for:
the room (warm, clubby, classic PB energy),
the empanadas (cheese & onion, don’t argue),
the fries and the asado-meets-seafood ambition.
Just be ready to:
slow the pacing down if you want to linger,
ask for that extra “kick” on fish,
and approach the wine list with eyes wide open.
