It was a cold evening in late January when Marjorie Deal and I stepped into the Ruffed Grouse Tavern.
Instantly and blissfully, the mountain chill dissolved into distant memory. An overstuffed chair beckoned near a wood-burning fireplace, its flames casting a warm, amber glow across the room. The space enveloped us in a cocoon of comfort – soft conversations humming, firelight reflecting in glassware – promises of refuge from the winter’s bite.
Jeremy Carter, the wine director, approached our table, a glass of Paul Bara Grand Cru Rosé Champagne in hand.
Warm and engaging, with a career spanning California’s legendary wineries like Chappellet and Duckhorn, Carter has a flair for the meaningful detail and an effortless knowledge that makes you feel instantly at ease. The champagne, elegant, delicate, and subtle on both nose and palate was a harbinger of the evening to come.
The Tavern itself is a testament to owner Jason Reeves’ vision – part saloon, part salon, a space that nods to the past without being imprisoned by it.
Reeves, a designer, preservationist, and developer, is a maximalist with a curator’s eye. Nothing here is accidental. Every brass sconce, every leather banquette tells a story, carefully orchestrated to create an environment that feels both timeless and entirely of the moment.
This is Reeves’ canvas – the Highlander Mountain House ecosystem, of which Ruffed Grouse Tavern is the culinary heart. A maximalist in the best way, he leaves nothing to chance, treating each detail with the same intentionality a chef might approach a complex dish.
And Reeves, it must be said, seems to be having a very good time. He moves through the space with ease – engaging guests, exchanging a few words, checking in with his team. It’s hospitality with aplomb and pizzazz, adding a touch of theater to the evening without ever drawing the spotlight away from the experience itself.
In the kitchen, two executive chefs – Adam Bresnahan and Chris Herzog – mirror Reeves’ approach. Their partnership is rare: two high-level accomplished chefs sharing one kitchen, yet the collaboration feels seamless. Bresnahan, a Johnson & Wales alum, brings a refined, ingredient-forward sensibility shaped by years in Chicago, Wyoming, and the Virgin Islands. Herzog’s culinary foundation was forged under a French chef in Colorado and sharpened in kitchens across Western North Carolina.
Their menu is a conversation, not a monologue. A Green Hill Brûlée arrives – a perfect round of soft-ripened cheese torched to golden complexity, drizzled with Blue Ridge honey, punctuated by green apple’s sharp counterpoint.
With it comes Devils on Horseback—dates stuffed with blue cheese and wrapped in hickory-smoked bacon. A familiar idea, yes, but done here with the kind of balance that makes you pause. Salty, sweet, smoky—never too much of any one thing.
Paired with the appetizers, The 2020 Hermann J. Wiemer Riesling lean, mineral, and lively, cutting through the dishes with elegance and lift.
The butternut squash ravioli follows, dressed in brown butter and topped with fried sage and shaved parmesan, was among the night’s most quietly luxurious dishes. The pasta was delicate, the filling silky, and the sage added both texture and perfume. With it came a Joseph Drouhin Puligny-Montrachet, bright with citrus and mineral and the faintest whisper of fennel.
Our main courses offered contrasting pleasures. The Sunburst Farms Carolina Mountain Trout, almond-crusted and seared until golden, arrived over jasmine rice with sugar snap peas and a lemon beurre blanc that gave it lightness without losing depth.
The chargrilled New York Strip was the opposite kind of pleasure – deeply caramelized, perfectly medium-rare, and served with rosemary-smashed potatoes, duck-fat Brussels sprouts, and a sharp, red chimichurri that added brightness and bite.
With the mains, Carter poured two reds: a 2021 Pax Sonoma Hillside Syrah, all violets, blueberry, and a savory undercurrent of olive; and a Domaine Roger Perrin Châteauneuf-du-Pape, full of dried herbs, black pepper, and warm spice. Each wine stood beautifully on its own. Together, they framed the dishes with richness and restraint.
We concluded with bread pudding, and like everything else that evening, it avoided the expected. The custard was laced with dark and white chocolate, fragrant with cinnamon and vanilla, and finished with a slow pour of caramel. It was warm, supple, and nostalgic – but not too sweet, a final testament to the kitchen’s remarkable restraint.
There were things I didn’t try – the Lamb Wellington, the Wild Mushroom Ravioli, even the House Burger, rumored to be one of the best in town.
But that’s the beauty of a seasonal menu. It gives you a reason to return. Nobody needs to be talked into this kind of bliss.
Reservations are a must – call (828) 526-2590 or visit highlandermountainhouse.com/the-ruffed-grouse-tavern.
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