Vines on Broadway, Jefferson City

“Here’s That Place I Was Talking About”

That’s a quote from one of the early social-media reviews for Vines, and the more I think about it, the more it seems perfectly apt for this friendly, cozy, relaxing piece of heaven on Jefferson City’s Southside. The place is a huge success without doing a speck of advertising; people just bring their friends, who bring more friends, and so on. “It’s a great place! Let’s meet there Thursday after work!”



There’s so much I want to write about Vines. I really could go on and on, singing praises and hallelujahs about it, but I kind of have a deadline: tomorrow (Friday, August 9, 2019) is its one-year anniversary of being in business, and I want to have this posted for it.

I remember its first night in business, because I was there, poking around, taking pictures, enjoying a glass of the Malbec. The appearance of a new business just steps away from our house was exciting, especially since Vines on Broadway is an establishment that sells wine and appetizers. And no joke about its nearness to our house. It’s exactly one hundred steps from our basement door. I counted. (This might mean that I’m “livin’ the dream,” folks!)

So I’ve been a regular customer for a year, now, so I can reflect on the development of this business. Sorry if you’re looking for a tough-minded critique—I decided long ago that I don’t have time to “review” places I don’t like. I do, however, have time for cheerleading sessions, so that’s what you’ll get from me: here is why you should check out this place.

Basic information: As of this post, Vines on Broadway is open Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, from 4 to 9 p.m. It’s at 510 Broadway Street, which is just south of the Highway 50/63 Expressway, about three blocks south of the Missouri capitol building. If you really want the “ins,” I suggest following Vines on Facebook, so you’ll know when they’re open for, say, Halloween night (which fell on a Wednesday), or New Year’s Eve (which was on a Monday). On social media, you’ll also be notified of any featured foods—because it changes—and other events, such as this summer’s new grilled goodies on the patio on Saturdays. Lorie, the owner, does not advertise . . . because she does not need to.

Vines, Like Real Vines, Likes to Grow and Develop

One thing that’s been a constant over the past year is growth and development—change—in an organic fashion. Think of how vines grow upward, into free spaces, toward light—that’s how this business has developed. Lorie Smith, the owner of Vines, has an artistic sensibility and approaches her business with a creative mindset. She tries new things. If something’s unpopular, she’s okay with letting it go. But if her customers like it, then she flies with the concept. Here are some of the things we’ve noticed in the past year:

• The furniture changes. Lorie’s always discovering nifty old chairs, sofas, tables, and more, and she’s open to rearranging it, always looking for ways to make her customers more comfortable, in open conversational groups.
• The decorations change with the seasons—she has collections of vintage holiday decorations, framed prints, colored lights, floral arrangements—and you can tell she has fun placing these around the parlors where customers sit. Even the decor in the bathroom is fun, even heartwarming (yeah, I know, in the john even!). Soon after Vines opened, she had a friend paint stylized grapevines all along the floor of her front porch. The decorations and furniture are eclectic. Most of it is vintage, which goes with the building. It’s like being in someone’s home. Lorie’s artistic tastes are apparent, with stained glass, chandeliers, nifty antique-mall and auction finds, and occasional quirky pieces, like a carved end table shaped like a hand. The table decorations change with the seasons. It’s all very attractive and creative.
• The patio in back is a new development as of this spring. It had been about four parking spaces, but Lorie and her compatriots transformed it, enclosed it with a fence (a city requirement for serving alcohol), adding a variety of chairs, tables, string lights, patio umbrellas, and potted plants ranging from tropical elephant ears to tomato vines. When the temperatures got hot, she installed a fine-mist system that drops the temperature by at least 10 degrees. And now, she’s found friends who do outdoor grilling each Saturday night.
• Special events happen; for a while, each Thursday was “Vegan, Vinyl, and Vino” night, featuring a bona fide record player and a bunch of LPs (think Bonnie Raitt, James Taylor, Jim Croce, Neil Diamond, and Rita Coolidge . . .). Now, Alexa typically churns out Van Morrison songs and similar. Then there was the Halloween Party, and the New Year’s Eve party, and the Fourth of July Party, and . . .
• And the food has changed. In addition to the new Saturday-night offerings from the grill, there has been a lot of change and creativity in the past year. But the food should be its own category.

Tasty Nibbles

Vines has been described as a wine and beer bar with tapas. But calling it a “bar” seems wrong, because it doesn’t have a bar. It’s more like . . . a laid-back cocktail party in someone’s home. You’re sitting on real furniture, this is an actual coffee table, and that’s a genuine smile. And to me, “tapas” implies a distinct emphasis on Spanish tapas cuisine. But if you’re expecting oiled sardines, fresh squid and oysters, Spanish chorizo and butifarro, manchego cheese, and tortilla de patatas, you’ll be let down.

Actually, the menu at Vines started out much more eclectic than its traditional Spanish forebears. Changing the dishes makes it interesting, and it lets Lorie try different ideas, and have some fun in the process. It was also a way for Lorie to explore what her customers wanted. Over time, the menu has stabilized into two items that are available every night, plus two or three additional items that always change.



The “Vines Platter” is one of the two choices that are available every night. It’s a basic cheese and summer sausage plate, with sliced baguette, oil-cured olives, grapes, nuts, plus olive oil and seasoned grated parmesan for dipping. Usually, there’s a few squares of nice, healthy dark chocolate as well. (I've been lobbying for the possibility of a “Vines Plus Platter,” which would include some tastier, fancier, more adventuresome cheeses, and I am hopeful this will eventually happen.)

The other dish that’s available every night is the “Slap Yo Mama shrimp”: plump, juicy, shrimp sautéed in butter and garlic, served on crostini and dressed with a blend of Cajun spices. A customer favorite!

As for the other foods available on any given night, the choices have included

• Sliders (like, roast beef and provolone with au jus, for example)
• Wings (all sorts of sauces and glazes; now, especially nice on Saturdays, when they’re grilled)
• Crostini (beef and herbed cheese; steak, caramelized onion, and gorgonzola; reuben—a favorite of mine; tomato, basil, and mozzarella . . . for example)
• Spreads and dips (smoked salmon; homemade hummus; pizza hummus; spinach and artichoke dip . . .)
• Soups (French country vegetable; Italian roasted sweet potato; Tuscan; creamy Italian sausage and tortellini . . . the soups were popular last fall and winter)
• Miscellaneous appetizers (prosciutto-wrapped asparagus; goat-cheese-stuffed, bacon-wrapped dates; stuffed mushrooms; sweet potato taquitos; BLT lettuce wraps; pot pies; mini quiches)
• Desserts (Oreo and cream cheese truffles; blackberry cobbler; pecan pie bread pudding; apple pie; salted caramel pecan cheesecake dip . . . and now, gelato and sorbetto from a locally owned food truck business)

When soups are served, Lorie and company are happy to divide the order into separate small bowls, which is an incredibly nice touch, so you and your friends don’t have to pass a bowl back and forth. They’re also fine with splitting orders on the bill, which is one reason Vines is popular with groups of friends: it’s a sharing menu, so they know that the food bill will be split between, say, four people.

Another wonderful thing is the kitchen’s flexibility and willingness to alter dishes for people with dietary restrictions, such as gluten-free foods. Indeed, Vines used to have weekly “gluten-free Fridays,” and although that idea got dropped for lack of enough interest, you can always request gluten-free options. If you have a special dietary need, you’ll find Lorie a sympathetic host. She’ll come out herself and ask about your preferences. She’ll work out something for you. Her hospitality is amazing.

And at some point, you’ll have to “ask about our balls.” One night last winter, Lorie and her friends were in the kitchen experimenting with making white-chocolate-dipped bonbons, and they produced a completely unique combination of creamy, tangy, sweet, rich, crunchy, chewy flavors and textures. She kept going around to her customers, asking them, “try one, and tell me what you think is in it.” Few people could guess, because the flavors blend so mysteriously and so well. I won’t tell you what’s in them, but it’s a very tasty, not-too-sweet, grown-up truffle—and “unique” does mean “there are absolutely no others like it.”



“Tonight’s Forecast: 99 Percent Chance of Wine”

Yes, Vines sells wine, by the bottle and by the glass. There’s a corkage fee if you bring your own, but why would you? Lorie and her distributor have curated for you a lovely selection that covers all the bases, and you can try samples, so you’re sure to find something you like.

The wines are subject to change, of course, but they are all great examples of their styles, including domestic and imported, dry, sweet, and everything in between. There is no “goof wine” (as Sue’s dad would call it) on the menu. Here’s a quick description of what you’ll find, from a recent list. (And hey, if you want to know the names of specific wineries/brands, then you’ll have to go there and find out.)

• Whites: a Sonoma Chardonnay (CA); a Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc (New Zealand); a Veneto Pinot Grigio (Italy), and a Mosel Riesling (Germany).
• Reds: a San Joaquin Valley Moscato (CA); a rich Spanish red blend called Berola (which is kind of the house favorite); a Sonoma Cabernet (CA), an Uco Valley Malbec (Argentina) (my favorite of the reds); and a Pinot Noir and Merlot, both organic from Mendocino (CA).

Also available are a French Rosé and an Italian Prosecco, plus a selection of beer, and truly delicious water supplied by EcoWater.

By the way, I keep lobbying for Vines to offer at least one Missouri wine—for example, Stone Hill’s Hellbender Red (a dry, complex Norton blend, which is also a fundraiser for efforts to restore an endangered species) . . . but so far no traction. (I’ll keep pushing, my friends.)

“Home of the 7-Ounce Pour”

You want to know about the cost, don’t you. A glass of wine ranges from six to nine dollars, depending on the wine. Bottles start at eighteen (the Pinot Grigio); the most expensive is the Berola, at twenty-seven. In case you are interested, Lorie (who is also an accomplished stained-glass artist) etched a tiny little dash onto each of her wine glasses to mark the correct level for a perfect (and consistent) 7 oz. pour. (The industry standard, FYI, is 5 oz.) They won’t short you.

As for the other prices, unless you require large amounts of food (I’ve seen the enormous portions served at some restaurants), you will probably be impressed at how reasonable the food prices are. These are small plates—appetizers—tasty bites—prepared in a small kitchen, to order, just for you, and served on interesting little plates. Other, swankier places would charge you double for less. Which leads me to my last subject: The ambience, the feel, the vibe.

“What a Great Place . . . Warm, Inviting, and Unique!”

Okay, so they serve an interesting parade of fun, tasty little snacky-snacks, and there’s a reliably satisfying selection of good wine . . . but then there’s another, even better thing about Vines that I’d like to share with you: It’s just fun to go there.

First, it has to do with the layout and the decor. I’ve already told you about the changes Lorie’s made over the course of a year, but the basic framework—a charming historic brick home built by German immigrants about a hundred years ago—gives the restaurant a feeling of history and lots of charm. Lorie has learned about the family that owned it, the Schlehers, who had a hardware store uptown, back in the twenties. A recent renovation brought the building into the twenty-first century with flying colors, and Lorie’s using the first floor for the Vines business, while she actually lives upstairs.

So here’s the basic layout. You park on the street or in a small lot off the alley, walk up steps to the front porch, and enter the front door. There’s a host stand at the bottom of a staircase, and beyond the stand is a hallway leading to the small kitchen and to the restroom. Your greeter will lead you to the left, where there are three rooms for seating.

The first room is a front parlor, with a cozy gas fireplace, a sofa, coffee table, and antique stuffed chairs.



The next room is a second parlor, with another sofa and coffee table, plus a few other café tables with chairs. (I bet most people think of it as The Purple Room.)



Behind it, the third room has a big dining table. It can be used for small conferences or meetings. Nifty wooden pocket doors allow you to close off this room for privacy. I find myself thinking, Don’t I belong to some group that could have its meeting here—?



The patio is truly pleasant; I described its development above. The crowning achievement for the patio thus far was the Independence Day party. The place was packed with all Lorie’s regulars. She had some musicians on the back porch strumming guitars and singing. And the views of the Jefferson City fireworks display were excellent—while other people were a few blocks north, gathering chiggers on the capitol lawn and dreading the traffic to come, we were all sitting in patio chairs, sipping our beverages, enjoying the cooling effects of the misters.





I’ve been searching for the right way to say this: Vines is attractive, and beautiful, without seeming snooty or untouchable. There’s a casual feeling that tempers the elegance into something genuinely approachable, like the difference between some wealthy person’s mansion and your own beautiful, comfortable living room. Or Architectural Digest versus Shabby Style. Which leads me to my final subject: the mood itself.

“One Visit and You Feel Right at Home”

Lorie told me that when she opened Vines, her goal was to create a space where people could get together, socialize, and relax, and she’s achieved that goal. Her success, in large part, is due to the host herself; she is outgoing, kind, shrewd, and has an easy laugh. She is genuinely welcoming; she makes it personal. This is a chemistry that all the chain restaurants in the world cannot touch.

It really does start with Lorie; I don’t think anyone can long remain a stranger to her. She greets her customers, sits down with them if they seem agreeable, and chats. It’s not uncommon for her to bring out samples of something she’s cooking up or experimenting with. Like the time she brought around a plate of bonbons made by mixing crushed whole Oreos with cream cheese, rolling it into balls, and dipping them in chocolate. “Hey, wanna try one of these? Check it out. I just made them.”

When she was thinking of opening Vines, she had friends tell her, “You have to be on High Street,” and she insisted: “No.” She found the place on Broadway and knew it was ideal for her. Okay, if you’re not from around here, you might not “get” this. Jefferson City’s High Street (which runs atop a high ridge parallel to the river) is the main business district of the town, frequented by bankers, lawyers, judges, legislators, and lobbyists. But when you cross south of the 50/63 Expressway (which occupies the low valley of a now-diverted creek), you ascend up more hills as you enter Old Munichburg, Jefferson City’s German-settled southside. Working-class people lived here; innumerable state workers—clerks, secretaries, and charwomen—lived here; and the funky ghosts of sauerkraut-odor linger in the woodwork of many of these sturdy brick homes. Lorie, a Tipton native, I think, picked up on this vibe immediately and recognized its cozyness.

And this is the real reason to celebrate the first year of Vines on Broadway: its society. Don’t go there if you want to be in a bad mood, or if you want to sit alone in dour silence. Vines is built for conversations and interconnections.

You’d think by now I’d get used to it, but it thrills me each time: As I’m sitting there, sipping and chatting with my companions, I almost always see two separate groups of people become one. It’ll start with someone overhearing some part of the conservation at a nearby table: “Sorry for butting in, but I couldn’t help hearing you mention _____, and . . .” And the response is usually an enthusiastic, “Oh, you’re not butting in at all, and that’s interesting what you said about _____.” Eventually, often, the parties end up repositioning their chairs in a big circle so they can all visit together.



A few weeks ago, one couple was staying at the nearby motel and kind of stumbled upon Vines; they were sitting on the patio; and another couple, nearby, were visiting Vines for the first time, too. The topic that linked them was “Isn’t this a great place? I wish we had something like this where we live!” Soon, the first couple just flat-out said to the other two, “Why don’t you just come over here and join us at our table?” So that’s what they did, and they spent the rest of the evening there, chatting and having a grand ol’ time.

“Because It’s Not Good to Keep Things Bottled Up”

Vines is a place for the Chardonnay moms to get together and deconstruct their week. It’s a perfect place for date night (or double-date night), where there are no TVs to distract you from the one person you want to focus on the most. It’s a place for the gals at the office to meet after work on a Thursday, to share a bottle of wine and snort about their jobs. It’s a place for certain Munichburgers (ahem) to meet and strategize about the organization. It’s a place for book clubs to meet. Middle-aged Harley bikers staying at the hotel have turned the patio into their own mini meet-and-greet party.

Then there was the night were some women showed up with a board game they’d just bought at Carrie’s Hallmark uptown, called “Chardonnay Go!” Everyone at Vines that night was drawn in to the game and had a great time.



And it has occurred to me, more than once, that Vines is on some level “feminine space”—in the same sense that a parlor with nice furniture is feminine. You are expected to use your manners here; this is not a sports bar with a concrete floor that can be bleached and hosed off. Keep your feet off the furniture; use your “indoors” voice. Buckets of beer are not available. There are no televisions, so there are no flickering images of sweating athletes, no corrupt politicians and “shouting guys,” and no shoot-em-up cop shows. No strobelike TV commercials to agitate your mind. No wonder it feels serene.

One of my favorite memories of last winter was the night of January 11, a Friday night, when we got an exceptionally heavy, wet snowfall starting in mid-afternoon. Lorie had mentioned that Fridays were her slowest night, and as the snow accumulated, and moving cars gone from the streets, I peered out my window to see if Vines was even open. Her light was on. So Sue and I walked our one hundred steps through the snow, opened the door, and stamped the snow off our boots: “Are you really open? We didn’t want you to not have any customers!” So the three of us sat together, enjoying wine and chatting . . . about the neighborhood, about art, about ideas; about people; telling our stories . . . as the snow accumulated and the blue sky turned to deep midnight snow-cloud gray. It was well after closing time when we walked back home. And we had had a terrific time.



Vines is a place to not take yourself too seriously. It’s a place to enjoy life, cherish your friends, and cultivate new ones.



Although some people seem to think wine is a beverage for snobs, and use it to pretend they are somehow upperclass, I’ve read recently that wine has a very long history of being viewed as a “civilizing” beverage, compared to beer and especially to hard liquor. Wine asks to be examined, swirled, tasted, contemplated . . . sipped again. It inspires conversation, creativity, ideas, and sociality. Indeed, apparently Thomas Jefferson himself—our city’s namesake—believed this was so. How appropriate for Vines on Broadway to offer its tasty, friendly, civilized, social atmosphere to our City of Jefferson.