Northern Hospitality
Before I even ordered my savory courses on my first visit to The Pines, the couple next to me insisted that I had to get the peach thyme dessert that was on special. The duo of women to my right agreed, “A must,” one said. Throughout the night, everyone from guests on their way out to servers told me that it was a must-order. Everyone wanted to make sure that everyone else got that peach and thyme tart. I did not need convincing. Peach? Thyme? Ice cream? I’m in.
I heard a chorus of this during my visits to The Pines. Local people encouraged other local people to try new-to-them dishes. Once, a man didn’t like the look of his cauliflower and tried to send it back. His server, Maddie, left that cauliflower on the table while getting him another main course. When he took his first bite of that cauliflower, he regretted almost sending it back. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” he said.
If what co-owners Kyle and Amanda Lussier wanted was to push people out of their comfort zones and encourage them to try new things up in the woods, they have succeeded.
Somehow, though, I assume that they have other, loftier aims.
Based on how the menu reads and based on the food that hit my table, I think the Lussiers want to put Grand Rapids on the map as destination dining in Minnesota.
And to know if they achieved that? For that, I had to eat.
The Bounty of Late Summer
The Pines is produce-centered and hyper-seasonal, so seasonal that my welcome dish of ricotta and vegetables switched produce from Thursday to Friday on my first two visits in late summer. On Thursday, it was beets. On Friday, it was tomatoes. That first bite of produce sets the frame for the rest of the meal where meat is abundant, yes, but produce is the star.
In late summer, the Bryndlewood Tomato lived under the section “for the table,” and arrived on a giant 15-inch plate. Bryndlewood refers to the farm that the Lussiers partner with for most of their produce. It’s meant to share, but you could order this at the bar to finish for just yourself. Well-salted, with toasted pine nuts, burrata, a generous portion of gremolata and olive oil, this dish was the highlight of my first two visits. Everything on this dish, including the bread, is made in- house. Days after I went home, the dish was gone, replaced with early fall crops.
Other vegetables were just as delightful. The peas in the ravioli stood up to heat and a butter sauce. Each one was toothsome, like they had just been kissed by fire.
Even the gem lettuce was memorable, with halves of romaine and frisée that were so exceptionally crisp, I still think about them months later.
My skirt steak, also listed under a small plates menu at 6-7 ounces, was also produce-centered. No leafy greens were found here. There were shaved radishes, pickled onions, long ribbons of cucumbers twirled before plating, jalapeños, and halves of tiny tomatoes. Topped with cotija cheese and dolloped with salsa verde, this turned the idea of rural Minnesota as steak and potatoes country on its head. While these vegetables had texture and bite, the steak itself was tender enough to cut with a butter knife. At $28, this was a bargain I wanted to order again upon my return in the fall. By then, the dish was gone.
The Sweetness of Early Fall
Six weeks later, I returned, exceptionally eager to eat here again. That amuse had changed over from fresh produce to candied peppers, cucumber and radish kimchi, and fish sauce. The Pines had made a full pivot into the depth of colder months.
Buzzy, seasonal dishes like tomatoes gave way to more humble ingredients like turnips.
I was delighted to see the turnips on the menu, because this is a hard dish to convince people to order. But these are worth ordering and if anyone can convince a crowd to do it, it’s this team. These turnips are poached in chicken stock and topped with a generous dusting of crispy chicken. The thing that takes this dish from good to spectacular isn’t the chicken; it’s the celery salad on top. This is how a farm-to-table Minnesota restaurant does green in the coming Persephone Period, with the often unused parts of winter vegetables like beets, turnips, and celery.
That crispppp chicken skin atop the turnips followed through to the chicken main I ordered. This dish was shades of beige, which might sound basic, but it’s not. This dish is bold, with a twice-cooked parsnip presented without any pomp and stewed mushrooms. The herbs in my summer dishes at The Pines were mint and basil. Here, they yielded to heartier flavors like thyme. The star of this dish, though, was the sunchoke puree. It was so immediately craveable, I wanted an entire bowl to drag bread through. In this dish, I am reminded of Myriel, which lets the ingredients do the talking. Here, at The Pines, the hand of the chef is light and the mark of the season is its guide.
Two dishes I had over the course of my visit had minor errors. The scallop dish with its leek ash against the smoked cream felt like it perfectly matched the vibe of my flannel outfit. It was dusted with housemade chips. The texture they promised was needed–and missing, as they were too soft. Similarly, the one small plate I’d skip is the wild rice fritter. It’s one of the few fried items on the menu and screams North Country. I wanted to love it. It needed far less oil, as it pooled on the bottom of my plate, and could have benefited from both lemon and salt.
A Four-Star Pastry Program in the Making
I was surprised to see the name of a pastry chef written on the menu when I arrived. Her name is Britta Letendre. She is 22 years old, from Grand Rapids, and went to culinary school in Colorado before doing a stage at Tobies. After that, she worked at the local co-op turning out cookies and birthday cakes. Many local restaurants have chosen to forego pastry chefs. Here, Britta is responsible for in-house popovers, bread, pasta, and dessert. “We weren’t expecting to hire a pastry chef,” Kyle told me in an interview. “When we posted job descriptions, we didn’t even post that.” Britta emailed him her resume. “I told her, ‘We need a pastry chef. You want to be a pastry chef. Let’s do this.’” This is her first restaurant job. Kyle took a risk on hiring her–it paid off.
The popovers are a must-order. Almost every table got them during my visits. These eggy delights are served with a rotating selection of butter, leek and garlic or roasted red pepper, as examples, and jam like plumberry or triple berry.
I found myself eating all three of the popovers I got at my table of one, unabashedly.
That peach dessert? It was as good as people said it was. Rustic, with Colorado Palisade peaches, brushed with thyme syrup, and topped with a big scoop of ice cream, it’s a late summer classic. For $10, it was larger than most $15+ desserts in the Twin Cities and also the most expensive pastry on the menu. The rest are under $10. My only quibble with this dessert? The thyme on my galette needed to be picked more intently (there were stems).
When I came back in the fall and saw an apple dessert with 12-year aged cheddar on it, I did a little dance in my seat. Yes! This is the kind of dessert I want to see in the North Country. When it came, the cheese was on the side, not melted on top like is standard in the Midwest. The dish was delicious when you grabbed a bite of all three of those elements together. In reality, most people probably don’t know how to craft that balanced bite on that fork. They might be too timid with the cheese, taking just the smallest sliver. In my hotel room at midnight, I deconstructed the dish and crumbled cheese on top of that apple cake. I melted it in the microwave. Just the warm gooey cheese on top took it from good to exceptionally special.
I understand it. It was a hard sell in the restaurant. When servers told people that the cheese came on the side it made them more likely to order it. But… what would take their pastry program from good to one of our best is the bravery to say, “Yes–the dessert has cheese. And you’re going to love it.” Because, hey, if cheese on dessert isn’t their style, there’s always chocolate cake.
“Talent Pool”
In the city, I hear chefs lament all the time that there “isn’t the talent pool” for them to hire line cooks who can execute their dishes.
But northern restaurants like The Pines prove that the only talent missing with that sentiment is teaching talent from the chef.
Kyle told me about his line cooks over the phone. “Some of them came from fast food,” he said. He taught them everything from knife skills to flavor profiles. The only “non-local” person on the back-of-house team is Sous Chef Chris Proctor, who is from McGregor, 45 minutes away. Kyle didn’t ship in talent from the city. He built up the talent here, which means that one day, his line cooks might have the skills to open their own restaurants.
Food runners and hosts are local high school students. Most of the servers are transplants from the suburbs who were already working in the area. Deputy of the Bar, Nathan Bergstedt, was born and raised here and is working on his sommelier certification. This is a team that’s local with experience at other restaurants. Each one of them has bigger ambitions. Each one wanted more. “They’re loyal and dedicated,” Kyle said. Teaching and training are at the center of his philosophy as a chef. You can tell.
In 2025, there’s no restaurant I want to see succeed more than a small town fine dining restaurant. This one, with its full dining room, affordable luxury, and sights set on greatness, seems destined to make it. It’s a destination restaurant in Minnesota, one that should be on your bucket list. Here, the Lussiers, Sous Chef Chris Proctor, and Pastry Chef Britta Letendre are showing that the heart of restaurants in Minnesota isn’t the city, but places like theirs, nestled in the pines.
★★★: The Pines is consistent and excellent, which is my standard for three-star reviews.
My three favorite bites: The menu here is seasonal and will change by the time you come here. I chose to list dishes that stayed on in both my summer and fall visits. My recommendations are getting the popovers, any chicken dish on the menu, and whatever dessert has a savory element.
Where to sit for the best service: You can sit anywhere, but I love the main floor tables because you can see into the kitchen.
Good for: Special occasion dinners for locals, pilgrimages to North Country restaurants for Twin Cities residents, and anyone who loves produce
My one big tip: Grab a drink at The Understory (the basement bar) before your reservation
Writer’s Note: Joy Estelle Summers and I were working on our pieces about The Pines at the same time. She wrote a great piece for the Star Tribune that details more about the vision and creation of the restaurant. You can read that here.
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What the stars mean:
★★★★: Best in Class
These are Minnesota’s best restaurants. Think category-defining and excellent all around in cookery, hospitality, and beverage.
★★★: Excellent and Consistent
These restaurants are excellent and consistent, meaning that the meals are similar across all my visits. Think meals worth writing home about where all parts of the menu are equally strong.
★★: Good or Inconsistent
These are either restaurants that are good but not excellent or excellent on some visits and not excellent on others. Think a restaurant with some stars and some flops, a restaurant that excels at pasta but not at dessert, or a restaurant that is excellent in cookery and not as strong in service.
★: Skip it
Self-explanatory!