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Uncle Orson's Restaurant Guide
The Garden Wall
The Restaurant at Thanksgiving Point


Utah Restaurants
The Garden Wall
The Restaurant Roy
When I was at Brigham Young High School in Provo, Utah, the town of Lehi was seen as the ultimate hick town. Its major landmark was a grain elevator; its speech was the most extreme version of that hard-R rural Mormon accent that semi-sophisticated people like me delighted in scorning (unaware, of course, of our own less-than-elite accents). If you had to pick a town name to serve as the replacement for "Galilee" in an update of the aphorism "Nothing good can come out of Galilee," one's first thought would have been Lehi.

But years have passed, and when Mr. Ashton's WordPerfect money was searching for a place to be put to use, it lighted upon, of all places, Lehi. Where dry-looking fields had once greeted the traveler driving over Point-of-the-Mountain into Utah Valley, now a vast garden and golf course greet the eye. At Christmas, every tree is spun with lights, artfully chosen to make a forest of glittering stars. Garden and culinary classes bring visitors year-round, and the emporium actually has some items of delightful kitsch that aren't available in every Cracker Barrel restaurant.)

The crowning achievement of Thanksgiving Point, however, is the Garden Wall restaurant. From the spacious entryway to the delightful tromp-l'oeil art covering the walls, the decor promises that this is the one place in Utah where extravagant amounts of money, luxurious taste, and a humorous attitude toward pretentiousness have found a way to coexist. Yet the decor would bring me here no more than once.

I might come back for the service. In Utah, waiters seem to come in two styles: aloof-and- inattentive, or hyperfriendly-and-overworked. The Garden Wall has struck the perfect note, and it extends throughout the service staff: I never want a waiter without finding one ready to serve; I never make a request that is not promptly fulfilled, if it can be; and yet I never find myself wishing the waiter would leave us alone to enjoy our meal. The waiters have learned that a questioning glance is often better than a cheery, "Everything all right here?" that stops a vibrant conversation cold. (To be fair, at least one other Utah restaurant has service at the same level: The Restaurant Roy in Orem [q.v.])

Still, good service is meaningless if the food they bring is not good. And at The Garden Wall, the waiters can serve in confidence that what they set before you is extraordinary. From a round of brilliant appetizers to a dessert selection that cannot be skipped, the food here is world-class. I mean that literally: If this menu and kitchen were offered in a restaurant in Manhattan, we would regard it a worthy competitor for Chanterelle or Gotham Bar and Grill; if in Los Angeles, we would rank it with Obachine, Granita, Il Fornaio, Remi, I Cugini, Bambu, or Cafe Del Rey; if on the Riviera, we would choose it as readily as Moulins de Mougin or La Cagnard.

The menu changes regularly and inventively, but I have never missed old favorites, for the new dishes are always worthy successors. Last night (6 December 1997) my entree was a peppery venison stew in a flaky pastry with perfect carrots and asparagus; others had salmon that made them forget they were so far from the coast, and trout, and lamb shank, and other meats and fishes that left no one wishing they had chosen something else.

The appetizers, though, are so extraordinary that I simply cannot bear to choose just one. Therefore I prefer to dine with at least six people, so we can order six appetizers and share them around the table. The toasted ravioli and the shrimp quesadilla were perhaps the favorites, but all the appetizers were thoroughly approved: baked cod, turkey-and-gnocchi, and a complimentary appetizer of turkey-and-cranberry pate on toast. Only with appetizers like this could the perfect bread seem like an afterthought.

Last night, since it was cold, we sampled the flavored hot chocolates first instead of waiting until after dinner, and I think that's how I'll order my meal from now on. The basic hot chocolate is so rich and creamy that you would not think an additional flavor could improve it, but when the waiter brings out the tiny chocolate cups filled with flavored syrup, you can't resist dropping the entire cup into the hot chocolate, where it instantly dissolves. Macadamia, hazelnut, raspberry, and vanilla flavorings all gave pleasure, but the consensus was that I had made the luckiest choice, for banana flavoring, though it sounded the least likely, gave the best result.

The salads are perfect, as one would expect, but I have learned to skip the salad course and force myself to ignore the excellent soups, for even I cannot eat that much food, even in a leisurely meal. Particularly because I can't bear to miss dessert. As with the appetizers, it would be too much of a shame to miss any of the desserts, so we order them all and share them around the table. I have no taste for bread pudding or gingerbread, but those who do declared these among the best of the desserts; the chocolate mousse cake, topped with sharksteeth of chocolate, is unmissable (but I could never eat an entire one myself, it's so rich); the seasonal special, a pumpkin creme broulle, was stunning, from the crust to the flamed top over a chilled center. My favorite, though, is still and always the cheesecake, whose recipe is so closely guarded a secret of the dessert chef that she won't tell even her colleagues in the kitchen how she makes it.

The menu is deftly written, too — an underappreciated art. This is Utah, after all, so there is nothing to be gained by a pretentious menu larded with French and Italian words that few of the clientele will understand. Instead, the language is simple and direct. Meats and fishes are clearly identified, and the language does not attempt (because it could not succeed!) to do more than hint at how dazzling the food itself will be. You learn from experience, however, that when the menu promises a "salsa" you will be served a little salad of spiced vegetables and fruits that alone would be worth the price of the meal; that the word "vegetables" stands for carefully prepared and utterly fresh servings that even an old vegetable-scorner like me can't resist.

I can't quite say that The Garden Wall is worth the cost of flying to Utah from out of state — but let me just say that if your business or vacation plans allow room for a side trip or an extra night, you owe it to yourself to invest in an evening at Thanksgiving Point. I can't promise you that there will never be a mistake — I've now and then been served gnocchi that stood too long and got cold, for instance — but I'll pass along my secret for guaranteeing as close to perfection as you're likely to find: When you're making your reservation, insist on knowing which sous-chef is on duty the night of your visit. If it's Tyler, there will be no mistakes in the kitchen. There is no fan of my books more devoted than I am to Tyler's kitchen, and when (as must happen someday) Tyler leaves to become head chef at his own restaurant, I will make sure I know where he goes so I can find excuses to visit that city and eat at that restaurant. He is not the only one responsible for the success of The Garden Wall, but it would be hard to imagine a restaurant with him in the kitchen being anything other than marvelous.

The Garden Wall
(listed with directory assistance as "The Restaurant at Thanksgiving Point")
Thanksgiving Point
Lehi UT
Lehi-Highland exit from I-15 (the first southbound exit after Point-of-the-Mountain, or the last northbound exit before it); look for the lighted water tower from the freeway.
801-768-4990