My first visit to Rebecca’s was, let’s say, interesting. I was in loser-at-the-bar mode (eating alone) since I was in town on architectural business. Usually when I eat at the bar, a bartender takes my order, but Rebecca’s (at least at the time) assigned bar losers to regular waitstaff. A middle-aged waiter, his hairline retreating like the French in World War II, gruffly asked me what I wanted to drink.
“I would like a glass of the viognier, please,” I replied. I was pleasantly surprised they had one, and it was my drink of obsession at that moment.
“Vee of what?” the waiter responded, scowling.
“Vee oh nyay.” I repeated.
“Huh?”
“VEE. OH. NYAY.”
“We don’t serve that,” he responded sharply.
“It’s on the menu.”
“No it’s not.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Where?” he said gruffly. I turned the menu around and pointed. He squinted.
“Oh!” he said, leaning back. “Vee-ogg-nee-urr! You are pronouncing it incorrectly!”
Normally I would let such things pass, but, since The Bride and I had recently spent an afternoon with Dr. Becker and his wife, Bunny, at Becker Vineyards barrel tasting a variety of wines including, indeed, a viognier, I was quite sure I had pronounced it correctly. Plus, this guy was pissing me off.
“I am pronouncing it correctly,” I retorted.
“You should not argue with a wine expert,” he said.
“I learned how to pronounce it from a winemaker, someone who makes viognier.”
“Then they do not know the proper pronunciation.” He tilted his head upwards and huffed into the dining room.
As someone who strives to be no more than 99 percent sure of anything, I surfed the proper pronunciation of viognier to confirm I was lipping it correctly. I was. Perhaps due to anger (or shame?), a young lady finally brought me my wine and took my order. Later, she asked, “Would you like another viognier?” pronouncing it correctly. We smiled.
Rebecca’s is Cloudcroft’s fancy-pants restaurant. Located in the historic Lodge, rebuilt after the original (designed by Henry Trost) burned down, Rebecca’s is named after the ghost of a chambermaid brutally axe-murdered by a lumberman after catching her with another man (I’m hopelessly disappointed that the bar’s Bloody Marys are not named Bloody Rebeccas…).
Quality (and service…) has been up and down at Rebecca’s over the years. One time we arrived on a weekday late afternoon and were told we could not be seated because we did not have a reservation. We gazed over the empty dining room, perplexed. Could we sit at the empty bar? No seating at the bar without a reservation. And, yes, we looked presentable (although The Bride’s brother looked like someone who could have killed Rebecca…). Because of these things (and our free-wheeling schedule in the mountains), we’ve generally avoided the place except for adult beverages at the bar (purportedly one of Al Capone’s whiskey tops from Chicago). However, when word escaped that Chef Lepree, who ran his own rather wonderful sandwich shop in Cloudcroft for a few years, would be the new head chef, we were back in!
Despite my blatherings above, we’ve had some good times at Rebecca’s pre-Lepree. One time we dropped in and scored a window seat where we watched a spectacular sunset settle over the basin. We’ve had some good meals, but nothing spectacular that grabs you by the intestines and says, “Get your esophagus back over there pronto!!!”
With Lepree at the burners, we stopped in last Thanksgiving weekend to see how things were going. We started off with a couple bevs, the Rosemary-Smoked Egg Nog ($15) and a Maple Whiskey ($15), both decent. For an appetizer, we shared a bowl of the day’s soup, mushroom ($7). Lepree’s soups and sandwiches were epically good, so our expectations were high (and we were not disappointed). For mains, The Bride tried the Roast Game Hen (with tagliatelle pasta, wild mushrooms, asparagus tips, and local tomato puree; $30) while I went with the Grilled Bone-In Pork Chop (with brown sugar, ancho chili, hominy, and cilantro; $31). Proportions for both dishes were healthy and thus good value for the price. My pork chop arrived asea on a shock of green posole, a pleasant surprise. All was good, although all the dishes were over-salted, at least for our taste (and I like a lot a salt). For dessert, we selected The Peach (peach panna cotta topped with spiced peach jam and served with a vanilla bourbon ice cream; $13). Beautifully presented and good.
One surprise perusing the menu is the apparent lack of New Mexican or local flavors. Where were the pinon nuts, the pistachios, the green (or red) chile grown just down the hill? One of our dishes had local tomatoes but (yawn) local tomatoes are available in every town from here to Muleshoe and back. I saw attempts with some dishes (but so much more could be done).
Just this past week, the hotel announced that Rebecca’s would be retired and replaced with a new concept led by Lepree. That’s great news (although I love the backstory of Rebecca)! I suspect this means that Chef Lepree will run rampant over the place. My recommendation would be to bring some chef’d up traditional New Mexico dishes to the menu along with the requisite steaks and French dishes (and inclusion of local ingredients). Getting a decent plate of Rio Grande basin New Mexican food requires a 35-minute drive to Tularosa for an 80% approximation and a 1.5 hour drive for the real deal in Las Cruces or Mesilla. And have a spicy version along with accommodating weak-kneed Texans with castrated chile.
The current owners of the Lodge, Lanna & Joe Duncan of Fort Davis, also own and operate Hotel Paisano in Marfa and The El Capitan in Van Horn, so they know about the joys of first-rate accommodations and world-class food in the middle of nowhere.
Stay tuned for a future review of the new concept! But in the meantime, get a damn reservation.
Rebecca’s at the Lodge; 601 Corona Place, Cloudcroft, New Mexico; (575) 682-2566
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