Hell’s Backbone Grill and Farm

Note:

In the past couple of years, we’ve come across several articles talking about Hell’s Background Grill. We hadn’t expected a restaurant in such a remote part of Utah to make news headlines. Seeing it repeatedly appear in national publications piqued our interest. When we heard that it “is the only Utah restaurant ever selected as a national semifinalist for the prestigious James Beards Awards—the dining industry’s top honor—in the category of Outstanding Restaurant”¹, we decided to pay them a visit. Although Hell’s Backbone sits well outside our usual review area, we wanted to experience it for ourselves and share that experience with our readers.

He said:

Wow, Hell’s Backbone is remote. Re - mote. Far from freeways, theaters, shopping centers. Even Walmart—famous for spreading throughout rural America—hasn’t yet intruded into this area. The nearest is over 100 miles away, in Richfield, over two hours away on the winding roads of Scenic Byway 12 and State Route 24. The small town of Boulder has only a couple hundred residents. Its sole gas station has just a single pump. Still, the isolation is no accident. Indeed, it’s part of the charm.

Nestled among many interesting sandstone formations, the town of Boulder has nearby access to the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, Capitol Reef National Park, and Bryce Canyon National Park. It is also home to the Anasazi State Park Museum, featuring the ruins of an ancient Anasazi village. Somewhere nearby is a place actually called “Hell’s Backbone”. We set out to investigate, but we ultimately chose not to traverse more than a couple of the 38 miles of gravel road.

Though in a desert, the Hell’s Backbone Grill sits in the shade of tall trees, surrounded by grass and flowers, a small stream running through the yard. We arrived early enough to take one of the few parking spaces near the restaurant, and then we walked up a gravel lane to the entrance. The reception kiosk and a small display of wares for sale were outside the building. We waited a few minutes for the appointed opening hour.

The restaurant had a single indoor dining room and another on the patio. We sat indoors, but still had an ample view of the neighboring scenery through the window. Both the building and its décor seemed to fit the setting well. They reminded me of a meeting hall at summer camp. The walls of the dining room featured rustic Americana paintings in simple frames.

As we perused the menu, we quickly discovered that they didn’t have any diet colas. In fact, they had no diet drinks at all, a fact soon confirmed by the waiter. Although they had several pages of alcohol choices, their only soft drinks were three flavors of bottled craft soda.

Many years ago—some of you will remember—there was a series of TV commercials for Pace Picante salsa. When one of the cowboys runs out of Pace salsa, the camp cook—named Cookie—passes him a bottle labeled “Mexican Sauce”. The cowboy explains that Pace Picante sauce is made in San Antonio, where they know what Picante sauce should taste like. Another of the cowpokes, reading the bottle, discovers the other brand is made in New York City. “New York City!” the crowd exclaims, before Cookie is left to meet the wrath of an angry mob². In later episodes, the salsa is made in New Jersey, which caused us all to think that New York City must have been offended by the original portrayal.

Anyway, our bottled craft sodas were not locally made. They came from—you guessed it—New York City!

To get us started, Kathy ordered a wedge salad, and I ordered the Local Lamb Meatballs with jalapeño-mint jelly. Though small, the meatballs were good. Firm and hearty. The jelly pleasantly blended sweet and, well, just a tiny hint of spicy. However, the jelly had been cooked to a soft candy stage, which turned it into a soft, sticky shell over the meatballs.

Vegetables layered my main plate. A squash puree sat at the bottom, and atop it sat some beets, carrots, and cabbage. I enjoyed all of them. The beets a little less than the rest, but that’s me and not them. I would have enjoyed a more generous serving of the carrots, with their flavorful glaze. Instead, I had just four small slices. A small filet of Bison Tenderloin sat atop a pile of lemony mashed potatoes, a pairing I hadn’t encountered before. The potatoes still had lumps and a few of their jackets, which I like. The citrus was a bit startling, but I didn’t find it objectionable. The filet itself had only a mild flavor, typical of a tenderloin, which lacks much marbling. Along side it was pool of thick poblano crema. If I hadn’t read it in the menu, I would have guessed jalapeños, not poblanos. It had a bit of a bite to it, although the crema balanced it. Another example of interesting pairings.

I was excited to order the Dark Magic Pear Gingerbread, and while I enjoyed it, I must admit it didn’t live up to my anticipation. The vanilla ice cream was thick and sweet. While vanilla often seems to be a base for other flavors, I love vanilla for its own flavor. The gingerbread cake was nice, but rather mild. I didn’t discern any pears. It was sprinkled with pieces of crystallized ginger, which were a bit strong, but I liked them. Mostly, though, I wished it had more salted butterscotch sauce. In fairness, my sweet tooth might have wanted more salted butterscotch sauce no matter how much they might have included, but in this case, I don’t think there was much of it. The cake quickly soaked up what little there was. Its flavor went largely unnoticed.

Although I enjoyed my dinner, I am a bit puzzled by the national attention the restaurant has received. The restaurant offered some interesting ingredient pairings, but also had a few missteps. The food was good, but the portions meager and prices elevated. I would eat there again if I were in the area, but I wouldn’t drive so far out of my way for it again.

She said:

Admittedly, all of the hype about this place really built up my expectations. After all, I’d read accolades in O Magazine and positive internet reviews singing Hell’s Backbone Grill’s praises. Photos on a website I visited had me envisioning a lodge-style cabin in the woods, nestled in the mountains, surrounded by trees and boasting a stone fireplace.

The only thing that lived up to the picture I’d conjured in my imagination was the trees. The property did have some magnificent ponderosa pines and beautiful cottonwoods. There were also lilacs (I’m partial to them), purple irises, and heather on the premises. There might have also been some lavender. As someone who grows flowers, I really appreciated that there was a fellow gardener on site. The blooms were a nice touch. Added color and beauty are always great.

My admiration, though, sadly stopped there. Instead of a charming cabin in the woods, I more accurately encountered a small building that looked like a wooden yurt-style hut. It was small, cramped, and had eclectic décor comprised of candles, metal colanders used as light fixture covers, and some creepy-looking dolls with demonic smiles on their faces. I couldn’t tell if they were skeletons or clowns. Brian suggested I go take a closer look, but I said, “No thanks. I don’t want to have nightmares tonight.”

Joking aside, I did like some things about the interior of the restaurant. The heavy, roughly hewn wooden beams were nicely rustic. The wood tables were sturdy, and the surfaces were large enough to accommodate our dishes, glasses, and utensils. However, I accidentally discovered that my chair was constructed of plastic—and not sturdy black metal as I’d initially thought—when I tried to scoot closer to the table and nearly fell to the floor due to the chair’s wobbliness and my shifting weight. That was a bit unsettling, but I was able to right myself without knocking anything over, avoiding making an embarrassing scene. Whew!

Now, about the food. That was the main reason we went there to begin with. My iceberg lettuce wedge salad came topped with a blue cheese buttermilk dressing, beets, crumbled egg yolks, and bacon. Sadly, the dressing was thin and runny. However, the lettuce was crisp and fresh, and the egg and blue cheese added some flavor and texture to the salad. I was actually expecting a creamier, richer dressing. You know, something to make my tastebuds dance.

My entrée, from the night’s specials, was the Orange Blossom Leg of Lamb. When the waitress set it down in front of me, it looked appetizing. The sliced meat sat atop lemon-infused mashed potatoes with a side of vegetables that consisted of boiled cabbage, roasted carrot slices, and pickled beets, all sitting on top of a squash puree of sorts.

Let’s begin with the lamb. Despite looking delectable, it was overcooked and lacked any discernible flavor. The meat was dark and tough instead of slightly pink, tender, and succulent. Even with the sharp knife our waitress had given me, it was a task cutting through the lamb. To say I was disappointed is an understatement. The lamb was supposed to be the highlight of my meal, but my tastebuds were unmoved.

The lemon in the potatoes was a bit overpowering, although the texture was fine. The other vegetables on my plate were an interesting choice. Although the beets, carrots, and cabbage tasted good individually, the combination was not complementary. The squash puree was excellent, but I wish the chef had been a bit more generous with the serving because I actually liked it a lot.

Overall, my experience was less than stellar. A large part of that was the average quality of the food, but the next biggest factor that contributed to my deep disappointment was all of the hype surrounding this place. It’s, at best, an average dining establishment that does not live up to all of the gushing articles and reviews it’s received. I expected a first-class dining experience, but it was merely ordinary.

If you’re just passing through and need to eat, then grabbing a meal here is fine. However, driving out to Boulder for the sole purpose of dining at Hell's Backbone might not be worth the time and travel invested in that endeavor. I appreciate the foundation on which the owners based their farm-to-table philosophy regarding food and sustainability, but the execution fell a bit short.

P.S.: The premises don’t appear to be ADA accessible, so if you have mobility challenges, like me, or are in a wheelchair, you might have difficulty navigating the narrow hallway and bathroom doors, as well as the long, slightly sloped gravel driveway.

Conclusion:

At Hell’s Backbone Grill, we found some great touches, but the overall delivery failed to live up not only to the hype surrounding it, but also to their own vision that they had communicated to us.