How Chef Matt Harris Turned a Southern Obsession and a Loaded Tacoma Into Utah's Most Soulful Restaurant

There's a moment, maybe two bites into the buttermilk biscuits at Tupelo, when you stop pretending you came for the elk bolognese and admit the truth: you came here because somewhere, someone told you about these biscuits, and you couldn't let it go.

They land on your table warm, impossibly flaky, with a ramekin of honey butter that looks simple enough — but the honey is local, the butter is real, and the recipe traces back to a Georgia kitchen and a chef's mother, which is the kind of detail that separates a restaurant from a dining experience. "Tupelo means something rare, something pure," Chef Matt Harris says. "Not commodity — it's what we aim for in every dish." One bite in and you believe him completely.

Tupelo Park City has been one of Utah's most celebrated farm-to-table restaurants since 2015. The current location sits just off Main Street on Kearns Boulevard — quieter, easier to park, more local in its bones — and it's exactly the kind of place you'd drive past on a crowded ski weekend and kick yourself for not knowing about sooner.

A Georgia Kid, a Loaded Truck, and Three Stops That Changed Everything

The story of Tupelo is the story of a man who keeps choosing Utah, which is not the obvious move for a kid who grew up in the South and came of age in some of the most prestigious restaurant kitchens in Atlanta and New York.

Before he was a chef, Matt learned to appreciate great food in his mother's kitchen — and a riff on her biscuit recipe is on Tupelo's menu to this day. But ambition has a way of pulling a person outward. At 21, Harris was working as a sous chef in Atlanta, running in the orbit of the city's most formidable culinary empires. His more formal training began with Kevin Rathbun and Pano Karatassos of the Buckhead Life Restaurant Group. He then trained at Jean-Georges Vongerichten's famed New York establishments and went on to open Atlanta's critically acclaimed Market by Jean-Georges, achieving four-star reviews.

At some point in his early twenties, he packed up a Toyota Tacoma and pointed it west. Utah was one of his first stops. He fell in love, moved on, and eventually landed back in Atlanta working under Vongerichten — until the day Jean-Georges asked him a question that would change everything. "What do you think about moving to Utah and opening a restaurant?" Harris remembers. His answer: "Hell yeah." 

In 2009, Chef Matt was selected to open J&G Grill at the St. Regis Deer Valley — his second Jean-Georges restaurant — and it was here that he met his wife and business partner, Maggie Alvarez. After a few more years of what he calls "floating around the country, finding myself culinarily," he returned to Park City a third time. That third return became Tupelo.

The name is a clue to everything. The Tupelo tree's blossoms produce a rare, sweet honey native to the southeastern United States — and its name also quietly nods to Utah's identity as the Beehive State. It's Southern roots, mountain home, and a philosophy about what food should be, all folded into one word.

What happened next is less glamorous than a single origin story, and more interesting for it. Harris embarked on a mission: visiting local producers across the country and around the globe — farmers to fisherfolk, ranchers to cheesemongers. He waded waters, tromped muddy fields, and wrestled with pigs like a true farmhand — all in pursuit of the very best the earth and oceans had to offer. Those experiences became the foundation for Tupelo's menu, and they inform every dish being served tonight at Kearns Boulevard.

What Farm-to-Table Actually Tastes Like on a Plate in Park City

Here's the thing about "farm to table" as a phrase: it has been used so broadly, by so many restaurants, that it stopped meaning anything somewhere around 2012. What separates Tupelo from the marketing is specificity. The producers are named. The sourcing decisions have logic and history behind them. When Harris puts Idaho trout on your plate, it's because he's met the people pulling it from the water.

The current menu reads like a cross-section of the American landscape. You've got fresh Idaho trout, natural Utah lamb, heirloom Sea Island beans, and housemade ricotta as highlights on a diverse menu with unexpected, delightful touches. The Niman Ranch beef — which Harris has used since 1999 — arrives with creamy barley risotto. The Rocky Mountain elk bolognese, served over rigatoni with local mushrooms and Pecorino Romano, has become something approaching a Tupelo legend.

The Infatuation puts it plainly: "it's always a good idea to order the buttermilk biscuits with honey butter, whatever salad they're doing, and the roasted trout entree." This is practical wisdom hard-earned from multiple visits.

As for that elk bolognese — it inspires a particular kind of loyalty. One TripAdvisor reviewer reported going back for a second visit purely because the elk bolognese was "screaming 'eat me again'" — and the dish delivered. Another diner on OpenTable put it more simply: "We had beef and barley, trout, and elk bolognese. All excellent."

The appetizers deserve their own paragraph. The deviled eggs show up in nearly every review, often described as some version of the best the reviewer has ever had. The ham croquettes with Gouda, caramelized onion jam, and hot honey have their devotees. And don't skip whatever small seasonal bites they're sending out as complimentary touches — previous visits have opened with a butternut squash soup shooter and a fruit tonic, which is the kind of welcome that recalibrates your whole evening.

The cocktail list features drinks concocted with syrups using local honey and garnishes picked from nearby farms. The wine list has won Wine Spectator's Award of Excellence six times, which is not an accident — Maggie Alvarez has a hand in curation, and her palate runs toward the kind of small-production, terroir-forward bottles that actually belong alongside the food Harris is cooking.

The room itself earns its description. The ambiance is cozy, upscale, and inviting without feeling stuffy — warm and attentive service rounds out an experience that works equally well for a casual dinner after skiing or a properly planned special occasion. Dark wood tables, leather chairs, exposed brick, open kitchen. You can sit at the chef's counter and watch the line work, which is worth requesting if you're the kind of person who finds a running kitchen as calming as most people find a campfire.

The Restaurant That Park City Locals Actually Come Back To

There's something meaningful about a restaurant with a strong local following in a resort town. Visitors make up the economic base of Park City's dining scene, but they're not always the most discerning regulars — they're hungry, sometimes exhausted from a day on the mountain, and often just need something reliably good. Locals, though, will come back only if a place gives them a reason.

Harris and his wife Maggie renovated the Kearns Boulevard space from the ground up after closing the original Main Street location in May 2020. The decision to relocate off Main was deliberate — Harris has spoken about wanting Tupelo to skew more toward Park City's resident community, toward a crowd who eats there for the food and not the proximity to the ski resort shuttle.

The sourcing story supports that identity. One of Tupelo's recurring suppliers is a farm in Midway, Utah — close enough that Harris has grown produce from his own backyard for cocktail garnishes and kitchen use. The restaurant prioritizes sustainability by sourcing fresh ingredients from local farms and implementing eco-friendly practices including composted food waste returned to local farms. This is the slow food movement enacted in daily operations, not described in a mission statement.

Harris is also deeply connected to Park City's broader culinary community. His dishes have been featured in Food & Wine, Bon Appétit, SKI, and Town & Country, and he was selected to cook at the James Beard House in New York alongside other notable Park City chefs. He has also, in the years since opening Tupelo, expanded into a small empire of other concepts — RIME Raw Bar at Deer Valley, Brasserie 7452 at the St. Regis, Wild Ember BBQ. None of those diluted Tupelo. If anything, they confirmed what the restaurant is: the flagship. The one that started it all.

Harris has said he doesn't want Tupelo to be set apart from the culinary community, but to be part of it — "with other people, with like-minded people, doing what we are doing culinarily." That's not humility as performance. That's a chef who has worked in enough great restaurants to know what makes a good one: it belongs to its place.

Planning Your Visit to Tupelo Park City

Address: 1500 Kearns Boulevard, Park City, Utah 84060 — about a five-minute drive from Main Street, with free off-street parking directly outside. If you've been circling the Main Street blocks on a powder Saturday, this alone will feel like a gift.

Hours: Wednesday through Sunday, 5:00 PM – 9:00 PM. Closed Monday and Tuesday.

Reservations: Make one. The restaurant fills up, particularly on weekends and during ski season. OpenTable and direct booking through the website are both easy.

What to order: Start with the buttermilk biscuits (non-negotiable) and deviled eggs. For mains, the elk bolognese is the dish that draws people back — but the Idaho trout is consistently praised, and the Niman Ranch beef with barley risotto is exactly what a cold mountain evening calls for. Ask your server what's seasonal — the menu shifts with what's available, and the staff knows the food.

Best time to go: Midweek during ski season for a calmer room. But honestly, whenever you can get a table is the right time.

Phone: (435) 292-0888 Instagram: @tupeloparkcity

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Why Tupelo Matters to Utah's Food Story

Park City has no shortage of restaurants that will charge you $45 for a steak and call it fine dining. Tupelo does something harder — it earns that category through actual conviction. Harris is constantly innovating rather than crystallizing, bringing a distinct flavor to his menu that keeps the restaurant alive in a way that purely commodity-driven fine dining never sustains. 

The farm-to-table movement in Utah has matured enough that the phrase alone no longer impresses anyone. What impresses people is when a chef has actually driven to Midway to see where his produce comes from, or maintained a relationship with a rancher since 1999. That specificity, that genuine curiosity about where food begins — that's what's on the plate at Tupelo. And that's why, ten years in, the elk bolognese is still screaming at people to come back.

Out of ten nights in Park City and nine different restaurants, one couple came back to Tupelo for a second time. That's the whole review. That's the whole story.

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Tupelo Park City | 1500 Kearns Blvd, Park City, UT 84060 | (435) 292-0888 | Wed–Sun 5–9 PM | tupeloparkcity.com