I’ve scaled the Redwood-side road to dining spots before, but walking into The Mountain House is something else. Tucked into a 100-year-old vermilion cabin atop Kings Mountain, the setting is timeless: redwood forest views through glass walls, candlelit tables, and a sense of history you can almost taste.
Now, two Michelin-starred chefs have taken the reins, and quietly turned this redwood roadhouse into one of the Peninsula’s most captivating escapes.
A Dream, Finally Owned
Every time I meet someone willing to bet on a dream, I lean in. William Roberts and Dmitry Elperin did just that, but with the kind of commitment that makes you pause. Instead of simply signing on as managers, they took a leap and bought The Mountain House outright.
This wasn’t a turnkey transaction. The pair inherited not just the glowing glass walls and century-old beams, but also the persistent headaches, mountain storms, power hiccups, and a building that’s seen better days. Their move was more than business; it was about grounding themselves in a place with roots as deep as the surrounding redwoods.
In a region where restaurants often come and go in leased spaces, their ownership stands out. It’s a signal to locals and regulars alike that this spot isn’t a fleeting trend. Roberts and Elperin are in it for the long haul, determined to safeguard the spirit of the roadhouse while guiding it into its next century. That kind of stewardship is rare, and it’s palpable the moment you walk in.
Heritage Meets Coastal-Country Cuisine
My favorite menus tell a story, and here, history is written in every dish. The Mountain House has always been shaped by its surroundings, but now it truly celebrates them. Roberts and Elperin coined the term “coastal countryside cuisine,” and it’s more than just a catchphrase.
Game like venison and quail pair up with seafood and produce from nearby fields and waters. One night, I tried roasted venison with creamy parsnip and tart lingonberries, each bite seemed to bridge California’s wild hills with Scandinavian comfort. The next, it was Mt. Lassen trout crisped to perfection, nestled on olive oil potatoes with pickled mustard seeds.
No dish ever feels out of place. Even classics like southern fried quail, plated with a flaky biscuit and mushroom-sausage gravy, tell their own tales. The menu feels timeless but fresh, bringing together past and present in every forkful. It’s a rare feat to make something old feel new without losing its soul.
A Personal Touch Among the Cedars
Some restaurants feel like set pieces, but here, every object has a memory attached. Step inside and you’re greeted by the glow of wood, the hush of redwoods, and details that feel lovingly curated. Taxidermy from William Roberts’s family collection lines the walls, each one a nod to past adventures and respect for the land.
There’s a quiet honesty in how these personal tokens are displayed. They’re not there to impress but to invite you in, sparking curiosity and conversation. I once overheard a guest asking about a mounted pheasant, Roberts himself stopped by to share its story, connecting table to kitchen in a heartbeat.
The effect isn’t stuffy or forced. Instead, it’s as if you’re dining in someone’s cherished family lodge, where every meal carries a sense of gratitude. These small, heartfelt details deepen the experience, making you feel part of something much bigger than just dinner. It’s hard not to linger a little longer than planned.
A Menu That Still Impresses
Some restaurants rest on nostalgia, but here, the food constantly gives you a reason to return. Take the much-talked-about flourless chocolate cake. The first time I tried it, I was floored by its depth and richness, especially paired with salted caramel ice cream.
The Mountain House doesn’t just rely on signature dishes, though. Their $88 three-course dinner feels generous yet considered, blending old-school comfort with contemporary polish. Everything from starters to dessert is thoughtfully prepared, reflecting the chefs’ skill without leaning on trends.
I’ve seen locals and out-of-towners both light up at the table when dessert arrives. The Chronicle’s praise isn’t misplaced; there’s a balance between tradition and innovation in each course. If you’re searching for a spot that honors its roots while still surprising your palate, this menu is proof that reinvention doesn’t mean leaving the past behind.
Why It’s Such a Refreshing Revival
Few places manage to recapture their old magic while forging a new path, but The Mountain House pulls it off. The sense of continuity is clear, Roberts and Elperin didn’t just preserve the building, they kept the spirit alive. This isn’t just about nostalgia; it’s about making something lasting in a world that often feels transient.
What really stands out is the way the restaurant brings people together. Between the soft candlelight, the scent of the woods outside, and the lively chatter inside, it feels like a genuine gathering spot again. The chefs’ hands-on approach ensures regulars and newcomers alike feel welcome.
This revival is more than a facelift or menu update. It’s a thoughtful response to what the community craved: familiarity, warmth, and a taste of something special. In every corner, you find a blend of legacy and fresh purpose, proving that history and innovation can thrive side by side, with a little care and a lot of heart.
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