Rediscover a House of Joy

Forty-one years ago, in my last life (when I get around to writing a memoir, it will not be in chapters, but in "lives"), I dined at House of Joy in Jerome, Arizona.  It had opened in 1969 in a building that once housed a brothel (1912-1946) in this once-booming copper-mining town.  In 1969, Jerome was virtually a ghost town, nestled in the switchbacks of the hillside overlooking Camp Verde, and a two hour drive from Phoenix.  John did the cooking and Conde Nast named it one of the top 100 restaurants in the U.S.   So, after booking a reservation many weeks in advance for one of the four or five tables at House of Joy, I experienced the best cuisine of my life - ever! 

Last Sunday, I decided to take Marisa to Jerome to experience the magnificence of a meal at House of Joy. 

And there it was, exactly as I remembered it.  Except, it wasn't. 

It was no longer a restaurant.  It had been re-born as a rather campy gift shop.  If you're in the market for a corset, or fish-net stockings, or a belly dancer's bangled belt, here is where you'll find it. 

Disappointment turned into surprise as I learned that John and Mary still own the shop.  Misfortune befell about 14 years ago.  John, an avid bicyclist, had a life-threatening accident.  Doctors predicted that he would never walk again.  So the restaurant was closed and re-opened as a gift shop.

Mary runs the shop.  I purchased a trinket or two and she beamed as I told her that I had yet to experience an escargot any tastier than that which John had prepared in 1972.  

Marisa stepped outside while I chatted with Mary.  When I joined her, she was deep in conversation with ... none other than 91-year old John.

He is indescribable!  He clearly proved the doctors wrong.  He rides his bicycle down the mountain, 25 miles to Sedona, and 25 miles back.  Yes, he rides not walks, up the mountain.  Every day.

He revels in his new role as the town character.  He told us that Mary keeps him out of the shop and away from shoppers.  And no wonder!  To say that most of his conversation bordered on the politically incorrect would be an understatement.  He invited Marisa to call ahead next time she was planning a visit to Jerome and he'd bake her some muffins.   In spite of - or maybe because of - his colorful peersonality, she accepted. 

Jerome is no longer a ghost town.  Knit 1 Bead 2 inspired a knitted shawl.  I've started it already.  The artistry of the felted hats, scarves and wraps at Roberge & Day emboldened me to try my hand at felting raw fibers.  I'll need to take a class first.  The Mexican food at Quince was delicious.  The accommodations, the inn-keeper, and the view from our master suite at the Surgeon's House were excellent. 














Nothing, however, could compare to rediscovering House of Joy.