PlumpJack Cafe and Bar — Restaurant in Tahoe City

Let’s get one thing straight, Squaw / Palisades Village isn’t where you go to find grit. It’s where dogs wear shoes and everyone’s name sounds like a skincare line. So when someone tells you there’s a place here with soul, you assume it’s just a well-branded kombucha pop-up. But then you find PlumpJack. A diamond in the organic, overpriced rough. A place that somehow escaped the Pinterestification of everything. The first thing you notice? Metal décor that wraps around the place like a hug from a cold but well dressed robot. There’s this suspended fireplace, just hovering there, Jetsons-style. It doesn’t warm you with flames as much as with hope. Hope that someone, somewhere, still cares about ambiance and the future at the same time. I sat at the bar, which felt less like a restaurant and more like a friend’s living room, if your friend was a retired rockstar who now only drinks mezcal and reads Murakami. I was handed a complimentary shot, not for any occasion, but just because the staff clearly looked at me and said, “Yeah, this guy’s been through something.” I had. Traffic mostly. But still. Then came the charcuterie board, which wasn’t just good, it was religious. Meats, cheeses, and accoutrements laid out like a spread at a Roman emperor’s hangover brunch. It whispered, “Forget your past. This is your life now.” And then that homemade sourdough. My god. It had trauma. The kind of chew that tells a story. You bite it and suddenly you're seven years old again, standing in a kitchen you’ve never been in, but somehow remember. Bread like that should be illegal in three states. The main dish? Some kind of sea bass, I think. But at this point, names didn’t matter. It was buttery, flaky, perfectly crisped on the outside, and spiritual on the inside. Like it had once been to therapy and came back better for it. It sat on a pile of couscous so buttery, I considered calling my ex just to say I’ve moved on. And then the Banan Moretto Sour. I don’t know who invented this drink, but I owe them money. I took one sip and my mouth went on vacation. It was like sipping dessert in a tropical country where shoes are optional and regrets are taxed. The outdoor patio? Gorgeous. Shaded, serene, and suspiciously free of leaf blowers. Inside looked like a Nordic design showroom decided to retire in wine country. Tasteful, soft light, and not a single Edison bulb in sight. Miracles happen. The staff? Angels. Not the fake-smile kind. The kind that genuinely care if you’re having a good time, but would also know how to hide a body if it came to that. PlumpJack doesn’t belong in Palisades and that’s why it’s perfect. It’s not just a restaurant. It’s a reminder that you can still be surprised. That somewhere in the algorithmic, influencer choked chaos of L.A., someone is still...

I was at Plumpjack on Saturday night around 7:30 and the restaurant was fairly full. Having been to Plumbjack many times over the years, I was generally a happy customer. However, I have now had these experience the last two times I have visited the restaurant and will not go back. The food was good as usual, however, the problem arose in that it took over an hour from ordering the food to it getting to our table from the kitchen and we were in the bar. Like most restaurants, one needs to stagger the seating if you don't the floor or kitchen staff to deliver a good experience. The floor manager apologized to the best of his ability and did all he could but helping out a bit on the bill but frankly this is the not the experience one would expect from this restaurant or any restaurant for that matter. Having been open for many years at this location and knowing the occupancy of the hotel and the events at Squaw Valley, the restaurant should have been better prepared. As a consumer just be prepared to be very patient if going to Plumbjack at a busy time for...

Probably the third time we've had dinner at PlumpJack - we eat in the bar all the time. Dinner is always expensive, but the food is generally pretty good, as it was this time (Cod Fritters were great, so was the Elk Rack). Surprisingly, the service was a mess on this visit. They attempted to serve our "main course" before we got our appetizers. They never cleared our pre-dinner drinks until after the meal. And they messed up the dessert order. They had a perfect opportunity to make some accommodations (e.g., comp the corkage fee or "appetizers on us tonight"), but no dice. Understood - its a business, and not a lot of competition in Squaw Village.

Update on the day after: I noticed a separate charge on my credit card for 2X the cost of my meal from PlumpJack Cafe. Apparently, it is being reversed, so no need to dispute. Another data point for really sub-par service...