Jackson Hole's Old West Snow Country Gets Cosmopolitan
By Tom Kagy | 11 Jan, 2026

Jackson Hole serves up timeless Americana with luxe modern comforts and fusion foods.

Instead of our usual winter tropical getaway we switched up for a week in America's rugged snow country, of which the first half was three nights in Jackson Hole.  It was time travel to the Old West without giving up luxe comforts, fusion restaurants, or wifi strong enough to get in a few hours of daily work.

Jackson's Town Square, with its elk antler arches, was snowless on our first day in town.  (Tom Kagy Photo)

The first question that popped up as we boarded the United Airlines nonstop from LAX to JAC was, Why is it called Jackson Hole?  Turns out "hole" is old-timer slang for a valley and David E. Jackson is the fur trapper who first worked that expansive valley for a beaver pelt company.   That quaintly mysterious name probably accounts for a good part of the area's authentic Americana vibe.

Jackson pushes its Americana motif shamelessly and very successfully through its storefronts.  (Tom Kagy Photo)

Strictly speaking Jackson Hole refers to the vast valley with the actual town offering accommodations officially named Jackson.  

Flying low through the Grand Tetons for a mountain landing at Jackson Hole Airport reminded me a bit of the landing at Cuzco, Peru, albeit without the white-knuckle drama of  negotiating a series of turns at below ridge levels of narrow mountain valleys.  Jackson Hole is only at 6,200 feet, not 11,500 feet like Cuzco and the plane didn't dip below ridge level until the final minute before touching down. 

Skiing is never far from Jackson, with Snow King Mountain offering good runs at the town's edge even in a season that had the least snowfall in 30 years until the day after our arrival.  (Tom Kagy Photo)

The 15-minute drive south from the airport was awe-inspiring. The snow-covered Tetons don’t just sit there politely; they loom, command, reverberating with the question, “Can you handle real winter?”  We weren't sure the clothes we had brought could stand up to the legendary cold of Jackson Hole.

Inn on the Creek's cozy and rustic kitchen area was the scene of three mornings of delicious custom breakfasts cooked up by Sarah (not pictured).  (Tom Kagy Photo)

The snow was thin on the afternoon we arrived.  The area had been suffering the lowest December snowfall in 30 years, but a forecast was calling for heavy snow the next day, along with much colder temperatures and high gusts.  The air felt chilly enough at around 30° as we walked out to our rental compact 4-wheel-drive SUV but we knew it wasn't the kind of cold that seeps into your bones and settles in for winter like the kind suffered by the first waves of settlers who followed the railroad in the late 1860s and early 1870s into that vast tundra.

With zero intention of experiencing the hardships of those rugged souls we had booked our three-night stay at the cozy little Inn by the Creek at the north end of Jackson.  The hills on the other side of Flat Creek from the Inn's parking lot had no trace of snow.  The only snow visible from the town were the ski runs of Snow King Mountain on the town's southern edge.  

We quickly settled into our rooms on the upper level of the Inn, appreciating the spacious accommodations that thoughtfully combined modern amenities like a jacuzzi and blackout shades with quaint touches like a pair of big old leather armchairs and a writing desk.  

We were further comforted by the knowledge the Inn was priced for repeat visitors at about half the rates of some of the area's bigger hotels offering less authentic charm and, as we were to discover, less of the luxe homey touches like breakfasts cooked individually to order, freshly baked goodies for afternoon tea, and an early evening cocktail hour.

Our first order of business was to walk four short blocks east and two long blocks south to the Town Square with its arches of elk horns in search of an eatery.  It was Christmas Day, so most of the town's assortment of western and Asian restaurants were closed.  Fortunately, we found The Melvin Dojo directly across Broadway from the Square's southwest corner.  Its fusion menu offered Tokyo Ramen, Korean Fried Chicken Bao with kimchi and picked cucumber, and Cauliflower Tacos, among other very un-Americana treats.

When the food finally arrived — attesting to the region's severe labor shortage thanks to Trump's mass deportations — we were delighted to find it on par with what we might find in LA's Little Tokyo or Olivera Street, except with perhaps a touch more dash.

One of the pleasures of eating in Jackson is the way chefs combine local ingredients like bison, elk, and trout with flavors that feel smuggled in from Seoul, Osaka or Oaxaca.  Call it frontier food with a passport.  And because this is Wyoming, portions are generous enough for people who just skied 4,000 vertical feet a dozen times, or are about to venture out for an afternoon of elk-watching in 10° temperatures with 35 mph gusts.

The town itself is a study in contrasts. On one hand, you have wooden boardwalks, antler arches, and shops selling everything from handmade leather goods to cowboy hats that cost more than a month’s rent in some cities.  On the other hand, you have overpriced hotels with heated outdoor pools, spas offering high‑altitude oxygen treatments, and coffee shops where the baristas can discuss single‑origin beans with the seriousness of a philosophy professor.  The blend shouldn’t exist, but thrives in Jackson.

After an afternoon of eating and exploring we headed back to the Inn for a rest before walking 3 blocks south on Millward Street to Bin 22.  The place is a wine and cheese mart-cum-small-plates restaurant.  When we entered around 7:30 the three big rustic communal tables and a bar were filled with lively conversation.  

We were seated on the middle section of the table next to the busy kitchen and quickly found ourselves in conversation with a woman remotely working the back-office IT duties for a veterinary services firm with locations in a number of more populous cities.  Her companion was  an adventure guide for tourists seeking thrills in the Tetons, nearby Yellowstone or the Wind River Mountains to the east.