Nowadays its claim to fame is the most famous bar in Montana most people have never visited, the Jersey Lilly, established in the former home of the failed First National Bank of Ingomar in 1933. Doug Ardary’s canonical (and apparently out of print) reference work, The Pub Crawler’s Guide to Montana’s Small Town Taverns calls the Jersey Lilly “one of Montana’s most famous and most loved taverns . . . worth going 100 miles out of your way to spend some time there.” For those of us taking U.S. 12 due East from Helena to Miles City, however, the Ingomar turnoff came up just in time for dinner.

We arrived at dusk during a break in a daylong rain storm, and as we pulled up we feared the darkened bar had already closed. But as our headlights shot past the hitching posts and over the boardwalk into the dining room, we spotted a dozen faces seated around several tables. So we walked in and heard from the hostess that the storm knocked out the power, but if we didn’t mind eating in the dark she would be happy to serve us dinner. (It turned out the faces belonged to some local ranchers who were on their way to ride in the Bucking Horse Sale parade.)

This would be an especially rustic Jersey Lilly experience, with an absence of electricity supplementing the usual shortage of indoor plumbing (outhouses stood off the boardwalk around the corner). The emergency exit floodlights shone on a table in the corner, so we pulled up some chairs and used the light to read the menus. One item we could order without a menu: Bill Seward’s renowned beans. An order of those and chicken fried steak would make the meal for most of us.

Our server brought out a knit potholder with our silverware and bowls, then set down a well-worn saucepan filled with a deep brown bean stew. After a day of roadtrip jerky and trail mix, we greedily ladled the stew into our bowls and supped. These were pot beans, a staple of chuckwagon cooking, in their own thick gravy flavored with chunks of smoky ham, a little salt, and a balance of secret spices for body. It was as simple and perfectly satisfying a dish as exists in high plains cooking, and for that reason a rare find in fancier kitchens.

Just as I was finishing my first bowl of beans and reaching for seconds, the chicken fried steak arrived. I didn’t bring a ruler to the table, but I’d guess the flour-and-pepper dredged chopped steak measured almost half a square foot. Four inches in, just as I was starting to fill up, I discovered the bean gravy made a good steak sauce. One bowl later I had cleaned my plate.

As we were paying up, the lights came on and we could see the beautiful and enormous back bar. We also got a closer look at the mounted moose head on the opposite wall–at first we thought it was just the bad lighting, but it actually had a cigarette in its mouth. It was time to hit the road before we could ask about the smoking moose, but we’ll be back to the Jersey Lilly. Even if it takes us 100 miles out of our way.

Jersey Lilly Saloon & Eatery
NW Corner of 1st Ave & Main St
Ingomar, MT
(406) 358-2278

The Rathskeller no longer serves members regularly, but anyone can rent it out for a special occasion.Â? I’d say the chance to enjoy a drink down there with a few friends and Helena’s ghosts qualifies.

BUTTE — The M&M Cigar Store, a landmark here for more than a century but closed 14 months ago in a bankruptcy case, may be reopening soon.

Bud Walker, a real estate agent and Butte-Silver Bow commissioner, said he hopes to reopen the bar by late summer.

He said the family partnership deal with owner Patty Lisac, including its liquor license, may close in July.

So raise a toast to Commissioner Walker for taking up the mantle of a Butte institution!

And if you missed the opportunity to buy the M&M (asking price $195,000, but some construction needed to bring it up to code), you have several other chances to own a piece of history, from the Irish Times (the M&M’s St. Patty’s day stand-in), to the Anaconda Company’s pay office, to the Dumas Brothel (”America’s Longest Running House of Prostitution”). Let’s hope they all end up in good hands.

Earlier, I had introduced them to growlers, though when we brought our two growlers in for a refill they only had one lighter beer (not “light beer”, just something other than a stout, porter, or scottish ale), a bitter. By the time we left they had run out of that beer, and could only offer us the dark stuff for our growlers–we took a jug of scottish ale, but passed on the rest and left with an empty jug. But as we stood there in the parking lot with the forlorn empty growler, Sarah from the Tap Room ran out to catch me, apologized for running out of the bitter, and offered me another growler filled earlier with a pale ale–perfect! She had a deal. The thing was, she wouldn’t let me pay for it.

That’s right, someone from a bar chased after me to offer us a jug of free beer.

The New Yorkers stood speechless for one rare moment, wondering again why they work eighty-hour weeks to live in apartments smaller than our kitchen.